#or to suggest ways in which new things could be made

[boyfhee]

ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again. 

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it. 

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister. 

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait. 

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you. 

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks. 

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away. 

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,” 

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night. 

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two. 

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts. 

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips. 

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension. 

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer. 

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms. 

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee. 

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips. 

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you. 

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing. 

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while. 

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out. 

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it. 

noh chaeun  4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke. 

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys. 

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh. 

sunghoon  4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful  for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out. 

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything. 

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock. 

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?” 

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. ) 

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice. 

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay. 

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones. 

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you. 

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep. 

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain. 

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked. 

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,” 

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,” 

“are you high?” 

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course. 

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed. 

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck. 

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck. 

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down. 

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot. 

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up. 

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief. 

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT 

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,” 

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries. 

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat. 

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?” 

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room. 

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered. 

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light. 

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow. 

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his. 

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips. 

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently. 

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin. 

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire. 

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again. 

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,” 

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness. 

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room. 

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—” 

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response. 

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch. 

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out. 

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question. 

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply. 

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands. 

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it. 

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips. 

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of. 

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you. 

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed. 

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it. 

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him. 

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things

[offtorivendell]

The possible significance of Azriel and Elain Archeron, the Embrace of Solas and Cthona, the paired blades Gwydion and Truth-Teller, and thin places; a theory

Disclaimer: this is a theory that came to me while reading HOFAS, and as usual it makes absolutely no claim of being canon. It builds on past theories that my friends and I have written about Elain, Azriel, the revival of certain lands, the blades Truth-Teller and Gwydion, and brings in some new info from the latest CC book. It also won't be my best effort, as time is currently lacking. I meant to get this out for @elriel-month but yeah, that didn't happen lol. As usual, rambles and overly long sentences ahead. Sorry!

Thanks as always go out to @wingedblooms and @silverlinedeyes for listening to me rant, and believing me when I say I'll actually get around to writing out my thoughts, even though it takes me ages. I love that so many of our theories tie in well together - please check out their theories, too!

Spoilers: Maasverse spoilers ahead, please proceed with caution if you haven't finished reading.

Gwydion (aka the Starsword) and Truth-Teller; the Made blades

In CC 1 we got a brief description of the stylised version of the Embrace of Solas and Cthona as a necklace, worn by Bryce's mother, Ember:

Five minutes after Bryce got there, Jesiba’s client—a raging asshole of a leopard shifter who believed he was entitled to put his paws all over her ass—prowled in and purchased a small statue of Solas and Cthona, portrayed as a sun with male features burying his face in a pair of mountain-shaped breasts. The holy image was known simply as the Embrace. Her mother even wore its simplified symbol—a circle nestled atop two triangles—as a silver pendant. But Bryce had always found the Embrace cheesy and cliché in every incarnation. - CC HOEAB, chapter 22

Firstly, could this be the (hypothetical) wyrdmark on the left shoulder of the figure on the HOFAS cover? The two mountains are there, but the mark between them isn't exactly a circle, so it's not blatantly obvious, but it's possible (I'd love it if the marks on her arms represented the different gods, or Urd in all of her forms). Perhaps light and dark light cancel each other out in some way? And how relevant will the spiral mark be? Does it represent a vortex/portal opening? Or is it the Cauldron's swirling eddies?

Secondly, I also think the two mountains/triangles and the circle/dot in between them look a little like a basic depiction of Gwydion/the Starsword and Truth-Teller (ie. the points of two blades) with a black dot/black hole/portal to nowhere. It's not exact, because the triangles aren't meeting at the tips, so I'm not super confident in it, but I don't think it's impossible, and it could tie back into the six pointed star, and three pairs of powers gathering in the space where they meet. I promise I'm not trying to claim every little thing for Elriel, and given Nesta has her own trio of Made blades, I suspect they could also be relevant here (if Narben is also found, then there would be six blades for the six siblings and six star points), but as Azriel and Elain were the first two to use Truth-Teller (in recent history), I think it's fair to consider their specific importance here.

Elain, Azriel and the Made blades

I've previously suggested that Elain may have powered Truth-Teller with her light, in order to pierce the fabric of the universe before shadow walking to save Nesta and Cassian in ACOWAR (here and here); this is a theory which is not unique to me, as quite a few of my friends think at least some version of it may be true. However, I believe that what we learnt in HOFAS about “thin places,” and the paired blades Gwydion (the Starsword) and Truth-Teller, could take this a step or three further.

To recap as briefly as possible, Elain previously used Truth-Teller to shadow walk in ACOWAR, and we have since had hints that she may use it again in the future. There are many questions left unanswered about Elain's successful use of what we now know is a Made blade, so we'll have to wait and see.

“You honestly think he’d ever give up Truth-Teller?” “He gave it to Elain,” Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case. “She gave it back,” I amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the King of Hybern’s throat. But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back. Mor hummed to herself. - ACOFAS, chapter 4

As a brief aside, there are also moments tying Elain to the shadows (whether or not it ends up being Azriel's shadows specifically, her own, or the Void in general remains to be seen), and I think we could find out that the middle Archeron sister, who is canonically observant and wise, may have learnt by watching.

Behind me, Mor took Nesta and Cassian by the hand, readying to winnow them to the camp, while shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display. - ACOWAR, chapter 50

Does Elain hear Azriel's shadows singing, and can she and Azriel privately communicate this way?

Did she also hear his siphon singing beautifully in ACOWAR? Perhaps as kin?

The Truth-Teller scene in ACOWAR, below, was also important enough to be included in the ACOTAR Colouring Book.

She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. Went white as death at the sight of it. Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” His wings had healed—though long, thin scars now raked down them. Still not strong enough, Madja had warned him, to fly today. The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly—fight with the legions, as they’d planned. Rhys refused. Cassian refused. Azriel threatened to slip into shadow and fight anyway. Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain Azriel to a tree. And Azriel … It was only when Mor had entered the tent and begged him—begged him with tears in her eyes—that he relented. Agreed to be eyes and ears and nothing else. And now, standing amongst the sighing meadow grasses in his Illyrian armor, all seven Siphons gleaming … Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. Paint that when we get home. Busybody. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

Firstly, @silverlinedeyes has a post that details how similar this passage is to the six pointed star scene from HOSAB, and the potential significance of it with regards to magical balance and the gathering of power(s). It's outlandish, but I think it could be important for any travels to Hel or beyond that the IC may undertake.

Secondly, I find it really interesting that Elain said to Feyre she didn't know how to "use" Truth-Teller; what if she meant she didn't know how to use it magically? I suspect it's possible that Elain didn't open a portal to nowhere (which appears to require both of the paired blades - perhaps their singing wavelengths cancel each other out?), but rather she created a portal to somewhere, and that's how she shadow walked across the battlefield in ACOWAR (aka she "slipped into shadow" and fought anyway). However, as we all heard her say that she didn't know how to use Truth-Teller, but then did, she obviously figured at least some of it out.

Alternatively, as @wingedblooms, @mrspettyferr, @cassianfanclub and myself have all wondered, did she possibly have some help?!

Was it Azriel, who told us in his ACOSF bonus chapter that he didn't need his shadows to read Elain?

Perhaps is was Nuala or Cerridwen, or maybe even Rhys?

Was it Koschei, the Mother, or a prince of Hel who gave Elain a helping hand?

Even then, how did Elain (hypothetically, of course) activate Truth-Teller? Just like Ruhn found Gwydion and Bryce accessed its magic, so I suspect Azriel found Truth-Teller, but it was Elain who first truly used its power (whereas Nesta, who was at the time full of the Cauldron's death magic, appeared to use it as a simple blade, hastening the king's death after Elain struck a fatal blow). Was it because her light stood in for Gwydion’s own magic and charged it? Is that why Azriel - who I have long thought may have Starborn heritage hidden underneath his shadows - has dark light, or shadows, instead of light? Is Truth-Teller actually devouring his light? Or - less likely - could the obsidian (wyrdstone?) blade be possessed by a Valg, or similar being? Though I'm less certain about that last point, as I wouldn't be surprised if the king of Hybern was possessed by a Valg (or similar) type creature, maybe a Daglan, and if that was the case then why would Truth-Teller decide to behave for Elain, unless the Valg* and Asteri/Daglan are enemies… anyway!

*What we learnt in HOFAS, about the blackest salt/obsidian drawing in the princes of Hel (while simultaneously repelling the Asteri/Daglan) makes me wonder about their possible ties to the Valg from TOG, who used obsidian wyrdstone rings and collars as a way to possess host bodies.

I'm not sure. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because I think Truth-Teller and Gwydion could be stand ins for Elain and Azriel (not necessarily in that order, though I do think a dagger suits Elain better than a sword does in terms of function); a bond needing to be reforged between them has always screamed “renewed shall be blade that was broken” to me (the Ballad of Strider), and the Truth-Teller scene could be suggesting that the grey - as in the blend of light and dark - could be a thin place between them. It would follow that this imagery, albeit very loosely, could be evoking The Embrace of Solas and Cthona, which Ember wears as a necklace, and that could possibly be a wyrdmark on the cover of HOFAS.

“Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two..." Just seems so relevant here.

Cthona and Solas represent dark and light.

Gwydion/the Starsword and Truth-Teller are (bright) light and dark light.

Azriel and Elain are dark and light... or perhaps light and dark?

Are Void and Chaos (the Mother?) involved?

Is the statue of the primal goddess that Nesta notices in ACOSF another hint here?

If being carranam ties into this, would it include Feysand and Nessian?

Light and dark have grey in between them, and the thin places are described as “gray.” Elain was even engaged to a man named "Graysen" for crying out loud; his family’s colour was even cobalt. I would be so surprised if all of this ends up meaning absolutely nothing in terms of her story.

How could Elain and Azriel stand in for Cthona and Solas when Elain is light and Azriel is darkness?

I could definitely be wrong, but instead of purely life, I (and @wingedblooms) prefer to think of Elain as rebirth, which inherently straddles the murky realm between life and death - the grey between light and dark (and grey) - and beautifully fits with her role as a gardener (relevant theories are here, here, here and here), the Book of Breathings rambling about "rot and bloom and bone," her position as the middle Archeron sister, her ability to blend quietly into the background, and definitely the grey of dawn and dusk. Azriel, though? The one Feyre described as the knife in the dark? Well, he has shadows that can brighten into sunlight, and I suspect that may have been what Elain was referring to in ACOWAR, when she said she needed sunshine.

So...

Azriel's shadows lightening into sunshine: Solas.

Elain and her many ties to the earth: Cthona.

I'm unsure if this is trying to tell us that Azriel will be the stand-in for Truth-Teller, because he is "dark light"/has shadowsinging abilities, while Elain is represented by Gwydion due to her prominent (so far) association with hope or brighter light, or whether it's the other way around, and we're actually being told that, while Elain appears to be light and warmth personified, in the future she will carry Truth-Teller, the blade that is her apparent opposite, as Azriel will wield Gwydion* (if they both end up having surprise powers, being able to swap between light and dark). It's all very murky, one might say a grey area. But I do think it likely that Elain and Azriel will each end up carrying either a blade that represents themself or their partner in some way.

* Yes, I know that Bryce gave Gwydion to Nesta, but she already has her own trio of Made blades. If I'm putting money on who will wield it, I think it will be Azriel, Elain or Feyre.

Thin places and Made blades

Before HOFAS was published @cassianfanclub and I had discussed the - we thought - insane possibility of the differently coloured mountain rock in Prythian being significant in terms of their possible salt content, and that it could be no coincidence that the black and grey rock of the Hewn City was in proximity to a known appearance of one “Lord Thanatos.”

Black salts were used for summoning demons directly—bypassing the Northern Rift entirely—or for various dark spellwork. A salt that went beyond black, a salt like the obsidian … It could summon something big. - CC HOEAB, chapter 18

Bryce stiffened at the moldy, rotten earth scent that crept from the bundle as he unfolded the fabric to reveal a handful of rust-colored salt. “What the fuck is that?” Ithan asked. “Bloodsalt,” Bryce breathed. Tharion looked to her in question, but she didn’t bother to explain more. Blood for life, blood for death—it was summoning salt infused with the blood from a laboring mother’s sex and blood from a dying male’s throat. The two great transitions of a soul in and out of this world. But to use it here … “You can’t mean to add that to their water,” Bryce said to the Astronomer. The old male hobbled back down the ramp. “Their tanks already contain white salts. The bloodsalt will merely pinpoint their search.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 38

Mor went right up to the obsidian dais, and I halted at the foot of the steps as she took up a place beside the throne and said to the crowd in a voice that was clear and cruel and cunning, “Your High Lord approaches. He is in a foul mood, so I suggest being on your best behavior—unless you wish to be the evening entertainment.” - ACOMAF, chapter 42

The mountain underneath the House of Wind - the one that houses the library in which I think a certain cat-like darkness could be a prince of Hel - contains both red stone and obsidian doors, with veins of silver running throughout (which reads like hope in the void, like the Velaris Weaver's tapestry, and I suspect may be important for Elain's journey, given she is frequently associated with hope).

Rhys stepped into a hall at the foot of the stairs, revealing a wide passageway of carved red stone and a sealed set of obsidian doors, veins of silver running throughout. Beautiful—terrifying. Like some great beast was kept behind them. - ACOWAR, chapter 20

If @silverlinedeyes, @wingedblooms, @ladynightcourt, @cassianfanclub, @psychologynerd and I are right that Clotho and some of her priestesses are involved in something massive, and have been contacting at least one of the princes of Hel, this would make sense! Black salt to summon something big, and red salt to pinpoint their search. And obsidian doors?!

We then learnt the following in CC HOFAS:

“The black salt, in such high quantity, keeps them away. They never realized that its presence drew us as much as it repelled them,” Apollion said with satisfaction. “It has the same properties that made us immune to the thrall of their black crowns.” - CC HOFAS, chapter

“The black salt only repels the Asteri; the mists repel everyone else. But certain people, with certain gifts, can access the power of thin places—on any world. World-walkers.” Aidas gestured gracefully to Bryce. “You are one of them. So were Helena and Theia. Their natural abilities lent themselves to moving through the mists.” - CC HOFAS, chapter

Elain is almost certainly a world walker - doe eyes searching across the world! - and Azriel may be one as well, but what if it is everyone who can winnow? Or just those like them, with a deeper affinity to the Void? And are they walking thin places themselves/as a partnership (remember the charged glance they shared last winter solstice), or do they just have a natural ability to make use of those which exist in the wild? Or is it some combination of the above?

Additionally, the obsidian hilts of Truth-Teller and Gwydion appear to be incredibly important here. In addition to the possibility that the Illyrian runes Truth-Teller carries on its scabbard may in reality be wyrdmarks, what if the obsidian hilts both summon the bearer in a way that allows them to access the void/murky realm and provides protection from any prying Asteri/Daglan eyes? Are the hilts made from wyrdstone? What about Koschei? Is Truth-Teller the reason his magic captured Cassian instead of Azriel in ACOSF?

There are so many possibilities beyond shipping, though given this is romantasy we know the relationships are more important to the story than your average romantic side plot, so we really can't separate the two while theorising. But either way, I'm so excited to see where this leads, and if we'll finally get detailed information about the gods in each or SJM's worlds, and how they may function throughout her extensive literary universe.

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading!

[ichatake]

Yandere Obito and Yandere Kakashi with the same girl 👀👀👀 I loved it. Can we get a part 2 when they are older?

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1 Here!

Pairing: Yandere! Obito x reader x Yandere! Kakashi

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, slight manipulation, mature content and slightly suggestive content.

A/N: thank you for requesting a part. 2, I love it when people like my works so much they ask for a second part! I hope you enjoy it!

As Teenagers:

✧ Obito was a very charming boy around you after he had warmed up to the idea of you staying on his team for the rest of your lives. You had now become the light of his day, completely replacing Rin. It was ironic how the last thing he wanted to happen was actually the first thing he’d come to love. Sure, he missed Rin, but you were there now. He surrounds you with his presence and surrounds himself around you at all times. That means that his pictures of Rin he had so dearly kept up in his room were suddenly taken down and replaced by your lovely face. If you compared the amount of pictures he had of Rin with the ones he has of you now, you definitely win. Apart from completely revolving his life around you, he makes sure to always be there for you; asking how you are, if you need anything, if you ate, etc. He wants you to enjoy his presence as much as he loves yours, and he wants you to feel loved by him. He doesn’t hide his growing crush, and it makes a certain silver haired boy boil inside. 

✧ Kakashi gets fed up with Obito easily, as always, but when it comes to you, he can’t help but let his mouth move on his own. He always tries to embarrass Obito in front of you, and make himself seem better than his friend. Although you quickly shut Kakashi off and tell him that what he had just said wasn’t nice, he rolls his eyes and mutters a small apology just so you’re not mad at him. Thankfully, you never stay mad at him for too long, which he deeply appreciates. Like how he appreciates how naïve you are sometimes, because he loves to lie. He had never lied before, but once his feelings for you began to blossom, it became a habit of his. It started off as a small, harmless lie. When you asked him if he had seen your lovely bracelet that Obito had gifted you, he said no, while stuffing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. Your disappointed frown made him slightly smile as he clutched that stupid bracelet of yours. He could always give you a new one. From then on, he began to lie more constantly, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He lied to keep you interested in him, or to make you look for him. He liked when you needed his help, and he wasn’t shy to sabotage a few things just so you asked him for help. 

✧ Both Kakashi and Obito knew that they were in love with you. They hadn't mentioned it to each other, but it was pretty obvious for the both of them. At first, they didn’t mention anything about it, but as they fought for your attention, it became obvious they needed to get this sorted out. At least, that’s what Kakashi thought. The boy knew Obito wouldn't be very flexible with you, considering how possessive he was, but once he caught said boy pressing his lips onto a framed picture of you while he passed by his house, he found that as the perfect opportunity to either blackmail him or make a pact. “If you don’t want (Y/N) to think you’re a total freak, then you’ll listen to what I have to say,” Kakashi’s threat made Obito sit still and quiet. There was no way he could live with himself if you ever thought he was a weirdo! So, with much irritation, he hesitantly listened to what his rival had to say. Kakashi explained that he knew Obito had feelings for you, and unfortunately, he did too. Of course, Obito wanted to speak and argue, but Kakashi shut him off immediately. “Let’s make a deal. We don’t have to fight over her. On the contrary, let’s work together. It’s obvious you want to keep her safe just as much as I do, and I don’t want her to end up like Rin,” The mention of Rin made Obito tense. At the end of their talk, they decided to put their rivalry aside when it came to you. They trusted each other enough to ‘share’, and they were very selfish kids, so that was surprising. 

✧ The boys spend all their time with you. They are there at your beck and call, and you’re glad they’re there for you! You don’t really notice how they’re unnaturally obsessed with you, so you allow weird things to happen from time to time. Like how you let them pick you up and take you home everyday. How you take food or drinks from them, never questioning if they had anything in them, because they couldn’t possibly ever put anything in your food, right? They don’t really show their weird tendencies flat out, since they’re still in denial that they’re actually doing anything wrong. They simply liked you. That’s all. This was a simple crush they developed, nothing else. It wasn’t weird that the only thing they could think about at night was you. How you would take care of them, heal them, help them, feed them. How you were so nice and gentle when it came to them. How they would try to think of different ways to make you smile, because it was the only thing they were looking forward to in the day. Your smile was contagious to them, intoxicating even. To young boys like them, this was completely normal. The most in denial was Kakashi, but to be honest, he was the one who’d act out on his impulses. As stated before, Kakashi would be willing to lie just to get you on his side. If he didn’t like someone, he’d start telling you how bad of a friend that person was because “I heard them making fun of you”. Of all people you would expect to lie, you never thought Kakashi would be one of them. So, you believed Kakashi, and cut ties with a lot of kids because of him. This was a big victory for him, because now you would look for him even more. You invited him to eat, walk, and train. Sure, you would ask Kakashi if Obito would like to go too, but his answer was always “I don’t know, I think he’s out training again with one of his clan members. Let’s just go, just the two of us,” Apart from slowly becoming a pathological liar, he also made sure to go with you everywhere, whenever he could, of course. That includes when you’re not looking. You would complain about feeling watched sometimes, and he’d try to brush your concerns off by saying “Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe you’re used to Obito and I walking you home that it feels weird when you don’t,” 

✧ Speaking of acting on impulses, Obito had become a little self aware that his love for you was becoming dangerously weird. Despite Kakashi being in denial, Obito knew that it wasn’t normal to think about you as if he had to. He needed to know what you were doing as much as he needed to eat, sleep, and breathe. He even felt a little guilty, in contrast to Kakashi. He felt so guilty the first time he stole from you. It was a simple hair tie you always kept around your wrist even if you never wore it. You had used it as some sort of bracelet. As he got home and pulled it out of his pocket, his heart dropped to his stomach as his eyes scanned the tie. Shame ran through his body as blood rushed to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. He just stole from you! He was such a freak! He considered giving it back and apologizing, but he couldn’t do that! Then you would totally think he’s sick! So he decided to keep it. He promised himself he would never steal from you ever again. He doesn’t steal. He was a good kid! But, you never know where you might end up in life, and he found himself taking other things from you. Everytime he stole, he felt like a total thief, and he was. The guilt would consume him, but his desires were satisfied. So, he stole and stole and stole until stealing small things from you wasn’t enough. He was left unsatisfied, even if he had a drawer dedicated to placing all of the things he had stolen from you.

As Young Adults:

✧ Now the three of you were older, and had matured! Both Kakashi and Obito grew taller and bulkier, making them attractive young men. Meanwhile, you had also grown and developed in every way. Your personality, your face, your body. Everything changed in ways that satisfied them. To them, you were even more gorgeous than before, and they hoped you thought they were attractive as well. You see, despite them obviously crushing on you, nothing really happened throughout the years. You still considered them friends, and showed no sign of romantic interest in them, much to their dismay. However, that doesn’t mean they stopped obsessing over you. On the contrary, it only fueled their desires. Kakashi had grown an interest in very… detailed literature. The ones you wouldn’t really let children read. His desires developed and changed as he grew, and as he entered adulthood, he found himself thinking of perverted fantasies involving you. He didn’t mean to, but his mind couldn’t help wonder off on how your breast grew a little more, or how your hips became wider. He didn’t really feel guilty about it either. He told himself these fantasies and thoughts were normal for hormonal men like him. His eyes would wander on your body a little longer than usual, and when you noticed him looking at you, he would simply smile and tell you how you haven’t changed a bit. But you had. And he loved it. Now that you weren’t kids, you didn’t need them walking you home anymore. You didn’t need him to watch over you, and you were now getting missions that didn’t involve them. Although it disappointed both of them, they tried to keep their calm. Obito would think about following you while you were out on a mission, but he never did it. He considered it an insult to your skill. You were strong enough to protect yourself, right? Kakashi, on the other hand, didn’t care. He followed you on your mission to keep a close eye on you. You were weaker than him, therefore, you needed his protection. The best part was that you never noticed him. He found it to be a win-win for all parties involved, that being you and him. 

✧ Kakashi wasn’t the only one with perverted fantasies, because Obito found himself waking up with a red face and sweat on his forehead while thinking back on the dream he just had about you. He’d be blushing the whole day while being with you, and when you’d ask him what was up, he’d brush it off saying it was just hot outside. What a big lie. Thanks to those dreams, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, hand clutching onto a piece of clothing he had slipped into his pocket the day you invited him and Kakashi to your house for your birthday. He felt disgusted at the fact he felt so aroused with you. That the simple faint scent of your perfume intoxicated him. The thought of owning your clothes without your consent drove him insane, much more than he already was. And the fact that he was holding the fabric close to his nose as his pants felt tight and uncomfortable had him questioning what he was doing. He asked himself why he acted this way, but made no effort into putting a stop to it as his hands fumbled with his belt to find peace from the heat and tension building up in his body. His thoughts would wonder what it would be like if it wasn’t your clothes he was holding, but it was you yourself. What would it feel like to have you sitting on his lap, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while you enjoyed how he made you feel? He had no idea how he could look at you in the eyes the next morning after a night full of dirty fantasies.

✧ Obito and Kakashi had also developed jealous tendencies that would annoy you at times. It was hard to deny that they liked you, at least a little more than just friends. And you didn’t mind it. You had also developed strong feelings for them, but that didn’t mean they could act as if they were your boyfriends when they weren’t. You hated the way you couldn’t talk to a guy because Kakashi would suddenly pop out of nowhere to try and slip you away from the guy. It annoyed you even more when he would start trying to insult the guy—not directly, but he would throw sarcastic and degrading comments just to see the guy’s confidence crumble. God forbid Obito ever sees you flirt with a dude either. He was even worse than Kakashi. When you mention how they should stop treating you as their girlfriend, they simply told you you were taking things out of proportions and how “The guy had been with half the village girls already,” They could stop if you wanted, but they were just being good ‘friends’. They were guys and they knew what their intentions were. You needed to believe them, but if you didn’t, that’s fine. If you wouldn’t stop talking to the guy, then the guy would just need to stop talking to you. Kakashi would make sure of it. And when you did come crying to them, saying how the guy was just a total joke and that they were right, they wasted no time in being by your side, “See? You needed to trust us. We told you,”, “At this point, the only guys you need in your life are us,” Maybe they were right. 

✧ Kakashi was the one that took care of all your personal connections. He decided who you kept in your life, and who would need to leave immediately. Obito, on the other hand, took care of your emotional state. Whatever Kakashi did, it would leave you in shambles, and Obito would be there to pick up the pieces. He was well aware of what Kakashi was doing behind the scenes, I mean they both agreed on it. Obito wasn’t innocent, and you didn’t know that the two men you trusted with your whole life, were actually the ones ruining it. Speaking of ruining, you seemed to be stuck in the same rank rank ever since you became a chunin. Both Kakashi and Obito had ranked up and were currently Jonin, but you were still a chunin. You wondered why, because you were doing everything right. All your missions were completed and well executed, yet you still made no progress. You even asked the Hokage, your former teacher, why you hadn’t ranked up yet. “I’m sorry (Y/N), you're just not ready yet,” he’d tell you, making you storm off angrily out of his office. To you, your missions were perfectly executed, but the anonymous reports that would reach Minato were completely different to what actually happened. They would absolutely botch your hard work and explain how you made many rookie mistakes that belonged to a genin more than a chunin. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this. Maybe you were better working at the hospital than the field. This was highly supported by Kakashi and Obito as well “You’re one of the best medical nin I’ve seen! You should put your skills to work,” Obito would say, trying to motivate you to drop trying to complete missions outside. 

✧ Let it be known that if you ever choose one of them, no you won’t. If it’s one of them, it’s both of them. They agreed on this. They both had a ‘right’ to you, so you couldn’t just choose one of them and leave the other. They had always shared you as teenagers, there was no way that would change now. They were insufferable, and they weren’t even in a relationship with you, imagine what it would be like if you actually dated them. Time was running out, and their patience was running thin. They had waited so many years for you to make up your mind, they couldn’t wait more. The more they fantasized about you, the more they craved you. Kakashi needed you to hold him, Obito needed to hold you. They needed you in every way of the word. They needed you in mind, body, and soul. They need you, and they would do anything to have you. 

[ananxiousgenz]

in honor of my birthday: have a malevolent fic!! it's shitty, but it's complete!! and because you wanted to be tagged: @lighthouseshepard <3

John's time as Arthur's arm and eyes had prepared him for a lot of things that came with being human. The sensation of touch, for one. How to use muscles and nerves to move limbs and interact with the surrounding world. How to determine direction. How to use force. How to describe things effectively and how to apologize for wrong-doing (sort of).

He’d figured out a lot more after the successful completion of the ritual that granted him his own body. Walking. Running. Jumping. Handwriting. Hugs and handshakes and nearly all of the other casual and not-so-casual ways humans made physical contact with each other, kissing included (with Arthur, no less, but that was a story for another time). Smells and sensations and which ones he liked and which ones he didn’t (the smell of clean laundry was a yes, but the feeling of sand on his feet was a big NO). He was still getting the hang of etiquette and social cues, although secretly he felt like he was never going to fully understand them. But on the whole, John felt like he had figured out a lot of what it took to be human.

But never this. Never hair.

John stood in the tiny bathroom of the apartment they shared, examining his dripping hair in the mirror. It was….. nice, he supposed. In appearance, at least. The color suited him, a deep coal black  that suited his warm brown skin perfectly, and when it wanted to cooperate with his efforts to style it, it looked positively regal. Only when it wanted to, of course. It was the styling part that had been causing him problems. Actually, it was the whole taking-care-of-it-in-addition-to-styling thing that had been causing him problems for the past few months.

Arthur had always kept his own hair short and neat, and even when he had been without a barber for several months between the Dreamlands and Addison, his hair never grew farther than slightly past his jaw, shaggy and uneven. His hair was easy to take care of. A little soap, some water, perhaps a comb and pomade when they could get it, and he looked just fine. 

John’s hair, on the other hand, was long and thick, falling in neat waves past his shoulders with a slight curl at the ends. He and Arthur had both been surprised when his new body had hair like that. According to Arthur, men typically kept their hair short all their lives and offered to take John to a barber, but he refused. John had never had to take care of long hair before, but decided to give it a try. Arthur offered what little advice he had picked up from his time with Bella and what he knew from taking care of Faroe, but he wasn’t much help, so John was left to figure things out on his own.

Unfortunately, he quickly discovered that long hair was a nuisance. It frizzed at the slightest provocation, leaving John looking like he had just touched a live electrical wire. It tangled in the breeze and got caught in his shirts and his mouth, which he found utterly disgusting. When he woke from a nightmare (which was more often than he cared to admit), it would be knotted and tangled beyond belief like a bramble patch had decided to grow on his head. Washing and brushing it all out took longer than he had patience for. He supposed he could chop it short like Arthur had suggested, but the thought of anyone taking scissors to his hair made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Not to mention, Arthur had decided that they were going out to dinner tonight, and while John did enjoy being able to talk to people outside of Arthur, he did not particularly enjoy being the center of attention. People staring at him and whispering to each other always set his teeth on edge. He should be used to it by now. He was a big man, taller than most people, and his eyes were a peculiar shade of brown that turned yellow in the sunlight. It was a bit hard for him to blend in. But unwanted attention, whispers and points and stares, made him feel like the King again, and that made him feel powerful and powerful made him feel…nauseous. And messy hair, as he had already figured out, would only exacerbate that attention.

So, he was stuck here, in their tiny, shitty bathroom, his hair more wet and knotted than rope on a sailboat, trying to figure out how to get it to lay nicely on his head after a wash.

He supposed the best place to start was trying to detangle the knots. John took a deep breath in, picked up the comb that had been lying on the counter next to the sink, and began to try to pick some of the larger knots apart.

You eat the elephant one bite at a time. Just start with this side. The ends of this section of hair. Put the teeth of the comb in, and……

John hissed and dropped the comb. That fucking hurt. Felt like he was trying to tear his damn scalp off. He could even hear strands of hair snapping as he tried to ease the knot out. He stood for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to will the pain to disappear.

Okay. While that did hurt like hell, he wasn't about to give up so quickly. Deep breath. Comb in hand again. Same knot. Try it again.

“Fucking- ow, ow, ow, ow, OW.” The comb was stuck. On reflex, John yanked at it, sending a wave of pain across his scalp. This time, hot, stinging tears began to prickle across his vision, mingling with the water dripping from his hair.

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered, looking at the pained expression fluttering across his face in the mirror. There was some desperate emotion beginning to bubble up inside him that he tried to press down. He had to calm down. He couldn't overreact. It was just hair, after all. Nothing worth getting truly upset over. But just beneath the surface, that feeling continued to roil and churn, like a covered pot a few degrees away from boiling over no matter how John tried to turn down the heat.

Okay. He could do this. It was gonna be fine. Ignoring the dull roar of his emotions and ache in his lip from where he was nibbling on it, he grabbed the comb again, still stuck in his hair. It didn't budge. He tugged at it again, but still nothing happened. John let out a deeply frustrated huff and tugged at the comb one final time. 

Between the sweat building on his palms and the water from his hair, his grip on the comb slipped. John's hand shot out and slammed into the mirror, and oh Jesus fucking Christ. 

The mirror, in response to the impact, shattered, sending spiderweb cracks skittering across its surface in every direction.

John inhaled and froze. He stared for a moment at his fractured reflection. A dozen slices of himself stared back, looking wide-eyed, wet, and disheveled, a comb still hanging from the ends of his hair. A monster in a funhouse mirror. A part of his brain dimly wondered if this was how Arthur saw him sometimes, when he couldn't see beyond the bits of the King that still lived within him, terrifying and awful and incomprehensible.

The emotion in John's chest finally bubbled over and began scalding its way up his throat.

He yanked the comb out of his hair, taking the whole knot with it but he couldn't give a fuck about the pain anymore, and threw it against the floor as hard as he could. It snapped as it hit the tile. The emotion had made it past his throat and was now burning behind his eyes as John leaned back against the wall and slumped to the floor. Hot tears began racing their way down his cheeks. John buried his face in his hands and let them come.

He felt nauseous. He felt like a fucking failure. He felt like he should turn around and leave, and never let Arthur see his sickening, monstrous face again.

He was on the verge of getting up and doing just that when the bathroom door creaked open.

“John? Are you alright? I heard some noises and I just wanted to check-” Through his fingers, John could see that Arthur had poked his head into the bathroom. There was a second of silence as he took in the broken comb and mirror and John, curled up with his back against the wall.

“Jesus Christ, John, what happened?” 

John didn't answer. His chest was still too thick with hot emotions and his eyes still burning with tears.

“John, are you alright? Please talk to me.”

John let out a shaky breath, but still said nothing. There was a pause before Arthur said anything else.

“Oh- John, your hand, it's bleeding a bit. Here, I'll patch it up.”

His hand was bleeding? John's brow furrowed from behind his hands. The pain hadn't even registered over his panic and frustration. Suddenly, there were cool fingers on his wrist, moving the injured hand away from his face and out into the light. John saw that Arthur was now crouched on the floor in front of him, examining his hand for a moment. He used his free hand to wipe some of the tears from his face. He didn't want Arthur to think he'd been crying, especially not over something as stupid as his hair.

Then those cool fingers were moving a lock of still-mostly-wet hair out of John's face and  tracing along his jaw before coming to rest just beneath his chin, gently but firmly forcing him to tilt his gaze up to meet Arthur’s.

There was no judgment in Arthur’s bright eyes. Just faint curiosity and gentle concern. “Come on now, John. What happened?”

“I- I tried to- I couldn't…. Nothing. It was nothing,” John said quietly, averting his gaze back to the floor.

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he stood. “I don't call a broken mirror, a snapped comb, and a bloodied hand ‘nothing’.”

“It was nothing you need to worry about. I'll pay for a new comb and mirror.”

“John, you and I both know that's not what I'm getting at,” Arthur huffed, grabbing antiseptic and a bandage from the medicine cabinet. “What happened? Was it an accident or purposeful? That's all I'd like to know.”

“I told you it was nothing. It's fine. I can handle it myself,” John rumbled, trying to inject as much warning as he could into his tone.

Arthur paused his rummaging in the cabinet and looked at John over his shoulder. “There's a difference between independence and forcing yourself to suffer because you think you don't deserve or need help, you know. I learned that difference the hard way.”

John was silent for a minute. 

“It's just… it's stupid. It’s so fucking stupid,”  he muttered. Just saying those words renewed the burning in his chest, throat, and eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” 

“I…. You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

“I solemnly swear, I will not think you’re an idiot. No matter what you tell me.”

“I… I was trying to make my hair look nice for dinner tonight, okay? I washed it and was going to brush it out, but the fucking comb got stuck in my hair. And when I tried to pull it out, my hand slipped and hit the mirror and-” John's throat began to close with the frustration still boiling over on that stove in his chest. He realized there were more tears slipping down his face and desperately tried to wipe them away.

“Hey. John. Look at me. It's just a mirror and a comb, alright? They're both easily replaced, and-”

“No, I don’t care about the broken shit, okay? That's not it! It’s me I’m upset about. I feel so fucking stupid and clumsy and helpless,” John burst out. “It's just brushing my hair! I should be able to do it on my own! But I'm like a fucking toddler who can't do anything! I can’t take care of this body, I can’t interact with people well, and I can barely control my own fucking emotions! It's just complete bullshit!”

The words hung heavily in the air, and John was on the verge of tears again, his breathing sticky and shallow. Arthur was quiet for a minute, biting his lip in thought as he began to clean the myriad of small cuts on John's hand. 

“I don’t want to make you feel worse about being able to accomplish things on your own, but can I help you with your hair? Only if you want, of course. But I might be able to help get some of the knots out more easily. I could show you how to do it so it won't hurt as much,” Arthur asked carefully as he wrapped a bandage around John's knuckle.

“I guess,” John muttered.

“Okay then,” Arthur said, picking up the two halves of the comb up off the floor and placing them in the garbage. “I have a spare comb in the cabinet somewhere… ah, here it is. I have a hairbrush here, too…”

As Arthur searched, John silently moved away from the wall, making space for Arthur. After a moment, Arthur was standing behind him, using his hands to gently pull apart some of the knots towards the ends of John’s hair before raking the comb through. Somehow, in Arthur’s hands, it felt like a feather being swept through his hair. John had used too much force. He always used too much force.

John closed his eyes and gently leaned into the sensation. It felt lovely, a gentle push and pull, like waves lapping gently at the shore of a lake, or like a slow dance, the kind he and Arthur did sometimes on a lazy Sunday morning. He could stay here forever, he thought, sitting on the tile floor, Arthur brushing out his hair. But the longer he sat, the brighter the question brewing in John’s mind that he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Not that it was a question he himself could answer. 

The question went along these lines: he knew he must be horrible to live with. His temper was thin, and liable to be set off at the slightest upset. He lashed out when he got scared or nervous instead of talking. He said horrible things and rarely apologized for them. He was working on it, just like he was working on everything else that came with being human, but he still knew he was not an easy person to be around. And yet, despite all of it, the broken mirrors and sharp words, Arthur still stayed. Arthur still helped him, still loved him, still treated him gently despite all the hurt he undoubtedly caused. 

What John wanted to know was this: why? 

Arthur was talking, John realized, and had been for a minute or two.

“Next time, try it like this, alright? Pull some of the more difficult knots apart with your fingers before using the comb or hairbrush. It seems as though it’ll keep your hair a bit more intact than-”

“Why?” John blurted.

Arthur sounded confused. “Well, because you don’t want to actually rip the tangles out of your hair. I think that would be pretty painful-”

“No, no, not about the hair. Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?”

John finally opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at Arthur’s face. He looked nearly as confused as he sounded. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned slightly down as he crouched down to eye level with John.

“Why do I care?” he repeated.

John nodded. “I’ve caused you so much trouble. Even from the beginning, I… I killed Parker. I got you involved in all of this supernatural mess. I’ve yelled at you. Said horrible things to you. Done horrible things to you. But you haven’t left me. You still care for me. Why?”

“John.” Arthur’s face had softened completely. “I would never leave you.”

“Huh. I would leave me,” John muttered.

“Well then, thank your lucky stars you’re not me,” Arthur replied, standing back up and returning to John’s hair.

“Believe me, I thank them every day. I do not miss that frail, twig-like body of yours. You could break a bone if the wind hit you the wrong way.” 

“May I remind you I’m still the one helping you brush out your hair, and I can leave at any time.” 

“Ugh. Alright, fine, I’ll play nice.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Ignoring the wave of heat the final comment brought up his neck and over his ears, John tried to return to the point. “You didn’t answer my question, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped brushing John’s hair and let out a small sigh. “You said you want to know why, right?”

John nodded again.

Arthur was silent for a long moment, his brown eyes growing warm and thoughtful. “I stay with you because of something I learned a lot about over the course of our time together: ‘Life is about survival. Love is about life with others.’ I’ve spent so long surviving on my own that it’s nice having someone else to survive with, and I don’t want to lose that. Even if you think you’re not worthy of it, even if you have caused me problems or hurt me in the past, I stay because I… I love you. I love you a terribly great deal. I stay because I want to see you survive, too, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

“Oh. Okay.” John’s heart felt like it might explode in his chest from all the tenderness he felt for Arthur. “I love you, too.”

Arthur smiled softly. “Let’s finish your hair, shall we? We’ve got a dinner we’re going to be late for.”

John smiled back and nodded. 

The world was difficult and complicated, and John still didn’t understand a lot of it. He knew there was still a lot for him to learn. But there was one thing he knew for certain: love gave life its color and purpose. And if love meant survival with others, then he could survive with Arthur. All of the tangled hair and shitty combs and frustration in the world wouldn’t be able to stop him from surviving with the man he loved who also loved him. He would do it with pleasure for the rest of his days. 

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.4 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, abuse, suggestive themes but no smut yet

See masterlist

She was 13.

He came home furious. Shaking his wings from the ice and snow stuck to them. Today was the Winter Solstice. Y/n always liked to imagine how normal families, normal faelings celebrated this magical day. Presents, delicious food, games, dancing, laughing and singing all night long. How warm, loved and happy they are. Then she turned her head from the window and came back to reality as she saw his angry face staring right at her.

But, as if the Mother took pity on her for just this special day, he walked past her to his room. Maybe, she could ask him then. Maybe, this time he will listen.

"Today is Winter solstice."

He froze midway, turned around and looked at her, his scarred and bearded face forming a scowl as he said, "And?"

She took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Maybe...maybe we could celebrate it. Like a normal family."

"Like a normal family."

"Y-yes. You could buy me a present and if you give me money, I could buy you one too. Maybe you could help me coo-"

A harsh slap right across her left cheek.

He grabbed her jaw and squeezed it harshly as he spat at her face, "You idiot! Why should I waste my money on a useless whore? And how dare you suggest that I, a respected Illyrian warrior, a captain for fuck's sake, stoop so low as to help you cook?"

She simply stared at him with emotionless, dead eyes. Begging, cring and pleading would do her no good. She learnt it the hard way.

He smirked, "On second thought, if you love this foolish day so much, why shouln't I give you your gift."

The next thing she knew, he was stripping her bare and throwing her out into the freezing, unforgiving cold of the Illyrian mountains. He laughed as he said, "Happy Winter Solstice you pig." and with that, he shut the door to her face, leaving her to freeze to death.

Two hours and fifteen minutes. She knew it because as she knelt with her knees to her naked chest, she counted every second, every minute that passed by. Not once did she cry. She only prayed for the Mother to make her death as painless as possible. By the time her feet and fingers were getting blue, she had already collapsed and got covered in snow.

When she awoke, he was in the room, standing next to her bed, acting concerned, "Sweetness, forgive me, I did not know what came over me. But you had to somehow understand that Winter Solstice is only celebrated by fools and although you ARE an idiot, I can not allow you to still be manipulated by all that high fae bullshit."

She could not breathe. Everything became too tight. She was drowning. She could no-

A hand. A hand was stroking her head. There was a voice...so distant now. A male voice but...who? The hand was rubbing calming circles all over her back. Everything was foggy, so blurry. The comforting touch made her feel so light...like a feather and so free. She felt like she was lying in a field of flowers now. She felt the storms within her quiet.

Calm. Tranquilent.

Then, the soft touch was gone and y/n awoke immediately. But there was no one in the room. Only the light coming from the moon, illuminating the room through the curtains and the absolute silence of the place were there to keep her company.

By the early signs of sunrise, y/n was already awake and ready to fight some of this stress and pressure out. She found some training gear in the wardrobe which consisted of black, tight pants and a long sleeved tight shirt that was custom made to accomodate her wings. How Aelin managed to get such a shirt for her in a matter of hours, was a question to which she had no answer. With a final touch to her hair, y/n exited her room in search of a tarining area.

This palace was enormous. The walls were covered in white and gold. She passed room after room, went down stairs after stairs. How rich are they? For a queen that fought in a war 3 years ago, Aelin has done very well in improving her courts living standards. Y/n only hoped that the same applied to the rest of Terrasen. To the common people living within villages.

After reaching the ground floor and taking a couple of turns after asking some servants and taking a 3 minute walk outside the West wing, y/n managed to find the the training area. It was an open, medium sized, circular ring, surrounded by grassy mainlands and small hills. In the distance, you could see the forest. On the left side, there were rows and rows stacked with weapons and other training equipment while on the left side, there was a table with a pitcher, probably with water inside, on it and some chairs and lying mats. Opposite to her on the other side of the ring, was a dummy strapped to a wooden holder.

With a quick stretching out, y/n took some binds for her hands and then walked towards the dummy. She hoped that starting out with punches and kicks would somehow sedate her growing anger. Besides, it has been 3 whole days since she last trained. As she began punching, her anger seemed to only increase. Anger at Azriel? At the rest of her family? At the Book of Breathings? At Aelin and her court? No, she was angry at herself. How weak could she be? She was pathetic really. First she let that monster dictate her life for 20 years, then she was stupid enough to fall in love with a male who played her, and now she is weak enough for letting those horrible past days come to her as nightmares.

She killed him. He was gone. She was trained to be better than this. Stronger. But...he was still winning. Even in death, he was haunting her. And Azriel...how foolish could she be to open up to him about everything, show him her raw and vulnerable side, trust him, only to be betrayed by him. What a joke she was for thinking that she got a happy end. Never again. Never again will she ever be foolish enough to be with a male, let alone trust him. Such a coward, so-

"What are you doing here?"

She knows that voice. How could she not after it has been the most aggravating thing that she has ever heard. So infuriating and yet...so hypnotizing. As much as she hated him and his voice, she would also find herself yearning to hear i- No. Stop. He is rude and unapologetic and thinks only of himself. Now her anger shifted again. This time to the male standing behind her, waiting for a reply.

Y/n turned around with a glare but felt herself foam at the mouth as she took in the sight in front of her.

Fenrys was standing in the center of the ring, half naked. His soft, shining hair was put up in a half bun, his broad, extremely muscled and scarred chest and arms were put on display as she devoured the view starting from his throat going down to his v line and then...he was wearing loose black pants and some combat boots.

She must have been staring at him for who knows how long because he said, "Did you enjoy slithering your way into my queens embrace?"

All the growing lust she felt suddenly got washed away as she felt like a cold water was dumped over her. Does he truly think so lowly of her? How dare he. How dare he assume such things about her.

"Seems like you are really pissed about me being here. Mind telling me why on earth you were so rude to me yesterday?"

He turned around towards the weapons as he said, "I meant what I said. You may think you have everyone fooled with your games but not me. I watch your every move."

She smirked as she said, "So obsessed. Might as well create a whole devoted circle in my honor. You and Lorcan could be it's representatives or leaders."

At that, he turned around and slowly started stalking towards her as he said, "You should start praying to whatever being you believe in to help you find your way home quicker because if you don't leave this place soon, I am afraid it won't be nice for you."

He was around two meters away from her now. Not close but also not far.

"Oh really? And what will happen to me, I wonder? Are you going to turn into your big bad wolf form and eat me?"

At that, Fenrys smirked as he said, "Trust me, many ladies would agree that I do not need my wolf form to eat someone."

Y/n slightly blushed but still held her ground as she said, "Those ladies must surely be blind if you are their type."

They were close now. So close she could feel his breath hitting her skin. His woodsy and vanilla scent was hitting her nose now. His nostrils flared slightly and his pupils dilated. He stared right into her eyes as he slowly said, "You want to let your frustration out? Come fight me."

Y/n, still in a haze, only asked, "W-what?"

He smirked slightly and stalked back "Let us see the infamous Y/n who is so legendary in her world."

She shook her head as if forcing her body to wake up from the haze she was in as she scoffed and said, "I do not train with uncultured animals."

He only stared at her from the center again as he said, "Scared, princess?"

It seems like that was the push she needed because at that moment she wanted nothing more than to punch his infuriatingly handsome face. She started stalking closer towards the center of the ring as she said, "Alright. But only to prove to you how weak you are compared to me."

He smirked but said nothing as they both took their positions, opposite to one another. Before they could start, she gave him a slightly puzzled look "Aren't you going to put binds on your hands?"

"I do not need protection for my knuckles."

Y/n rolled her eyes "How impressive of you."

"I know what you are doing."

"Really? and what exactly am I doing."

"Trying to get me to talk so you could get the first pu-"

Fenrys did not get to finish his sentence as y/n lunged for him. But he quickly sidestepped her, his movements fluid and precise, as he threw a quick kick to her shin that sent y/n staggering backwards. In a skilled move, y/n lunged forward, aiming a powerful uppercut at Fenry's jaw. He managed to deflect the blow, but it left him momentarily off balance. Seizing the opportunity, y/n delivered a swift kick to his abdomen, sending him staggering backward.

As Fenrys stumbled, y/n launched herself forward, tackling him to the ground with a resounding thud. They grappled fiercely, rolling across the pavement in a tangled heap of limbs and adrenaline.

Despite Fenry's strength, y/n's agility gave her the upper hand. With a deft twist, she managed to pin him beneath her, straddling his chest as she pressed his arms firmly to the ground.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the heat of their exertion mingling with the chilly air of an early morning. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they gazed into each other's eyes, the intensity of their connection sparking something deeper than mere anger or frustration.

He was always breathtaking. As if he was sculptured from marble. But now, as she lied there, chest to chest with him, she could see how absolutely marvelous he was. Such sharp and defined facial features, slight golden freckles, and those tempting lips. Cauldron boil her she really should get up if she did not want him smelling any of her arousal that was surely starting to grow. But...he felt so warm and his abs that were right beneath her....and then lower, she felt his-

"So this is y/n?"

Y/n immediately pushed herself off of him as Fenrys quickly sat up. They both looked to their left to see the source of the voice. It was a girl with red-gold hair and seemingly golden eyes. She did not look too small, more like just hitting puberty. She has deep scars on both of her cheeks but despite that, she was still very beautiful.

"Eva, what are you doing here?" Fenrys said as he got up and went towards the girl.

She ignored him as her curious eyes stayed trained on y/n "When I first heard of your arrival, I really really wanted to meet you but then Lysandra said no and then you fell unconscious and thennnn you were brought to Aelin again and I really really begged her to let me also see you but Aelin said no. That you may be dangerous- Oh sorry I should not have said that." she clearly was embarassed because she looked down.

Y/n giggled as she said, "Do not worry. What is your name?"

The girl seemed to quickly forget her moment of embarrassment as she smiled brightly and jogged towards y/n "Evangeline! But everyone calls me Eva. Lysandra and Aedion are my parents- well not real parents because they adopted me- Oh wow! you do have wings! may I touch them? Please please please"

She smiled as she looked at Eva and said, "Nice to meet you Eva, my name is y/n. You are very sweet but unfortunately I do not like when my wings are touched."

A frown appeared on her small face as she asked, "Why?"

"Because they are quite sensitive so if someone touches them without my permission, I will punch first then ask the questions. For those like me, wings are our most cherished possession." and with that, y/n's finger's booped Eva's nose as the little girl smiled and said, "I understand! I also get angry when someone touches my things without permisson."

Then, suddenly, Fenrys came closer as he sweetly said to Eva, "Is there something you needed sweetheart?"

"Breakfast is being set up, Lysandra allowed me to come and call you guys."

"That is very nice of you Eva, but I need to train some more-"

"We will be there in a minute, sweetheart" Fenrys cut y/n off to which, she gave him a glare.

Eva nodded before turning around and running to the palace.

"I am not hung-"

"You have been here since Gods know when. Your body needs food to stabilize it after all the energy it generates. Thought you knew that."

She scoffed "I do know that I am just not feeling-"

"Well, that is too bad because you are still coming to eat."

The way he said it left room for no questions as she sighed and followed him. As they were walking, y/n smiled a little as she said, "Is Eva always this talkative?"

At the mention of the little girl's name, Fenrys also smiled as he said, "On the contrary. She is very quiet and observant. She only gets like this when she is around us. And seemingly you. But who can blame her, the things that child went though..."

Fenrys quickly shut himself up before saying any more private things that he had no right saying. Not unless Lysandra or Eva felt comfortable sharing it with y/n. She did not ask him anything else as she understood and respected his silence.

By the time they reached the dining room, everyone was there. This room was less formal but luxurious enough nonetheless. The ceiling and the ground were both pale gray. To her right, there was a large floor to ceiling window with green drapes over it. The walls were pale green but they had silver floral designs over them. There were also candles in silver holders attaged to the walls. Finally, at the center of the room was a table which had multiple delicious-looking meals on it. Around the table were pale green chairs with silver legs. And on the chairs, were Aelin and the rest of her court.

"Y/n! Fenrys! come you two. Since you arrived last, you get those last two seats. Try not to kill one another." Aelin said while smiling as Aedion let out a snort and Lysandra cackeled.

Indeed, there were only two empty seats left at the end of the table. Y/n knew luck was never on her side but atleast now would be agood time for someone to switch places with her. Fenrys tensed beside her but quickly regained his calm before moving to sit on the chair.

When she also sat down, she noticed that there were 2 more children around. One looked like he could be 3, sitting on Lorcans lap while the other was a complete newborn snuggling in Elide's arms. When she saw y/n's look, Elide smiled as she said to her, "Y/n, these are our sons, that is Blaise, he is 2 and this...this newborn angel is Theon."

"They are adorable" she said with a smile

As they began eating, Aelin said to her, "I have made sure that you are granted acess to all the royal libraries here as you begin your search. Parallel with that, we will also be looking into the matter of the Wyrdgates because we think that now there is a possibility that one of them has ripped open. If that is the case, we must search for a way to close it again."

"Ugh not this again. We went through enough trouble the first time around, I can barely stand dealing with it the second time." Lysandra said with a sigh that had Aedion putting his hand behind her back to caress it.

"Well, I was too young back then to help you guys but I am old enough to do so now!" Eva said with a big and proud smile.

"You were 11 then, you are 14 now. Still too young. Not a chance." Aedion said with a teasing smirk before sticking his tounge out at her.

She huffed as they started their bickering session that had Lysandra rolling her eyes but still smiling.

Through her peripheral view, y/n saw how Fenrys was full on smiling. Not the teasing, annoying smirks he would give her, but a full, big genuine smile. Of course he would be at peace here. It seems like they all endured a lot and only had each other to protect and lean on. But, she knew, somehow felt it that he was sometimes putting on a mask. How no one noticed it as well was beyon her grasp. He had secrets. Nightmares. Ones he probably has not shared with anyone. That is understandable. After all, this could possibly be the only thing in which y/n can relate to him. They all had their dark secrets, past memories they tried to bury long ago.

Once breakfast was over, she joined Aelin and Lysandra on their trip to the library while Elide, together with Eva, took her newborn to sleep.

Fenrys had to go for his daily run as a wolf. It was something he has been doing a lot recently. It would help ease his visions of Connall's and Gavriel's death, his times with Maeve and the war. It has been 3 years already, they won the war, Maeve is dead, Erawan is dead, no more Valgs, everything is getting better. By now he should have moved on, felt less guilty and more happy. But he has not. Gavriel is dead while he is alive, his own brother is dead while he is alive. He was there when Maeve killed Conall, he could have done something to stop her. But, instead, he watched like a fucking coward. So now, as he left Lorcan and Rowan in the latters office, he shifted to his wolf form and headed towards the forest to once again, temporarily get rid of the growing shadows that surround him. He has been getting so aggressive lately.

It did not help that Aelin gave y/n a room that was right next to his in the West wing. Annoyed would be an understatement to describe his emotions. But, maybe it was because of the thin wall seperating them that he heard her moans of anguish, her nonstop chants of 'pleasepleaseplease' or maybe it was because he felt this sudden tug within him, urging him to go to her. Her energy and emotions were mixing with his own, he felt like he was suffocating too. He felt her pain. Even though he had promised himself to ignore her, to hate her with the hopes that whatever this feeling was would pass, he could not ignore her anguish. And so, he winnowed himself to her.

She was struggling, tears were staining her red cheeks, hair was all over the place, as she tossed and turned while still pleading to whoever or whatever it was she was seeing. It made his heart physically hurt to see her in so much discomfort. He quickly but carefully sat down next to her and put his hand on her back, rubbing calm circles over it.

"Y/n."

She did not hear him. Did not wake up. Did not stop her panick.

He tried again, with a more gentle voice, "Y/n, please."

She did not wake up but it seems like she heard him as her movements slowed slightly.

Taking it as a chance, Fenrys slipped his hands through her hair and barely managed to hold back his moan. Her silky hair was the softest thing he has ever touched. He started caressing it while saying very gently, "Princess please come back." "Come to me y/n, follow my voice." "I know you can come out of it. You are not weak."

At that, she calmed down completely as her tears stopped and her heart rate went back to normal. She was deep asleep again. That was his cue to leave but, he did not want to. She was beautiful. The moonlight only added to her serene state. He felt himself smile. Maybe he should not be so rude to her, maybe they could get along- What was wrong with him? She is a stranger, a possible enemy from another world and even if his queen welcomed her, he would keep his eyes on her constantly until the moment she left this place and he would be finally freed of her. And so, with a final look at her, he winnowed himself out.

Then, just this morning when he came to the training grounds to clear his mind, imagine the shock on his face when he saw the feisty little fireball furiously punching the dummy.

He was trying to get rid of her and yet, there she was, glaring at him from the other side of the ring. Not to mention how her tight little training gear brought really filthy images to his mind.

And then, when he walked closer to her, he saw how every thought emptied from her mind as she took him in. As if that was not enough, her sweet arousal hit his nose which had him witholding a groan and staggering backwards before he did something stupid.

When she pinned him down to the ground, he could only think about her warm, plush body on top of his. How perfectly they fit together, like 2 missing pieces of a puzzle. He was about to give in to his lust when Eva saved him by interrupting their little moment He would have to buy a new fantasy book for her as a sign of gratitude.

She is everything that he hates. Annoying, too curious, aggressive, so self centered. He should really help his family on finding a way to get her out of here immediately. Or else...or else Fenrys is afraid of what may come next.

The library was huge. Tall shelves with rows and rows of books, massive windows that displayed the waterfalls and the green lands of Terrasen, marble floors that shined with the light streaming in from the sun and finally, couches, lounge chair, low tables were at every corner you turned. Gold and white was all around her.

At y/n's mesmerized face, Aelin says, "This library is the most valuable one of all the rest. It was destroyed during the conquest so what you see now is the renovated version, but I did try my best to make it look like how I remembered it."

Y/N gazed around in awe, absorbing every detail of the magnificent library. The sunlight filtering through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the intricate carvings on the shelves.

"It's breathtaking," she breathed, turning to look at Aelin.

Aelin smiled, her eyes sparkling with memories of the past. "It's my pleasure," she replied, her voice soft yet filled with pride. "This library holds centuries of knowledge, wisdom, and history. It's a sanctuary, a place where one can lose themselves in the pages of a book and find solace in the words written by those who came before us."

"I can see why it's so important to you," Y/N said softly, reaching out to trace her fingers along the spine of a particularly ancient-looking tome. "It's more than just a library, isn't it? It's a symbol of everything you've fought for, everything you've lost, and everything you hope to achieve."

Aelin's smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over her features before she nodded. "Yes, it is," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. 

Lysandra, who was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, came closer as she said, "It is also our best chance at finding something related to the issue at hand sooo...let us start. Where is Marcus or any of the other librarians?"

Aelin shrugged as she said, "I did not want any word getting out and causing everyone stress which is why I gave them a day off so we can search for it on our own."

Y/n nodded as she said, "Alright then, I think it would be more efficient if we seperate. I will go to the back rows."

After receiveng a nod from them, she stalked towards the far end. But what they failed to note is that Illyrians were always favored for their keen hearing. Which is why, when they thought y/n was a safe distance away they exchanged quick words that had her feeling lucky for her small asset.

"Anything suspicious?"

"No, she truly seems genuine in her actions."

"Maybe, but let us still keep our eyes on her."

And with that, they moved in different directions, going to search for books.

Y/n should have known that they would have their eyes on her. Well, it is not like she trusted them either so if spying on her made them feel better, then so be it.

One hour had already passed before y/n managed to find a very promising book that looked quite recent, but something within her drew her to pick it. Which led to her, Aelin and Lysandra to gather around one of the tables to see what the book held.

"Are we sure that this one will hold the answers to what we need? It looks quite new." Lysandra said with a curious glance at the book.

"I am not sure. But my feelings have never betrayed me. I feel like this book has something important in it."

Aelin sighed as she said, "Well, there is only one way to find out."

With a hopeful heart, y/n opened the unharmed, clean book. But despite its fresh covering, its pages were old, archaic, so yellow that it was almost brown-gold. It was as if this book was made in this way to steer everyone away by fooling them with its modern covering.

The first few pages were all talking of things that were of no interest to them. But it was a certain page that stood out to her after a couple of minutes of flipping through them.

"It's about the Valg," Y/N murmured, her voice barely audible above the hushed rustle of pages. "But it goes deeper than that. It speaks of gates, of worlds beyond our own, and the mysteries of the Book of Breathings."

Aelin's eyes widened with intrigue, her lips parting in silent wonder as she absorbed Y/N's words.

"The Book of Breathings? the one you have in your world? the one that sent you here in the first place?" Lysandra asked, now leaning over the table to read the pages.

Y/N nodded, her gaze fixed on the ancient text before her. "According to this," she continued, her voice trembling with awe, "the Book of Breathings is more than just a relic. It's a key, a gateway to other realms beyond our own. Just like the Wyrdkeys. In fact, what if there is a 4th Wyrdkey and that book is the one? And the Valg... "

Both Aelin and Lysandra were peering over her shoulders now, as Aelin quickly said, "What? The Valg what?"

"I-i don't know. I can not tell. The rest of the pages are in a language I do not understand."

All three females stared dumbfounded at the book, none of them knowing the ancient language written within.

"Look, there is something else in our language." Lysandra said as she pointed to the corner of the page.

There, a small writing that said:

“When shadows loom and darkness reigns,

The gates will open, breaking chains.

In fire and blood, they'll rise anew,

But only a chosen few can undo.

In the heart of a queen, strength resides,

To close the gates and stem the tides.

Yet fate may twist, the cycle's rhyme,

And darkness may reopen the gates in time."

"A prophecy..." Aelin said, still in deep thought as she re read the lines.

Lysandra sighed "This is very confusing."

"I don't understand, this prophecy seems to be talking about what needs to happen for the gates to open but darkness? shadows? you won the war though."

Lysandra nodded as she continued, "And this specific line that says 'in the heart of a queen, strength resides' makes no sense if this prophecy talks about how the gates may open after they were closed. Aelin is strong, but not when it comes to her powers, not anymore. So how is she supposed to close the gate when her magical strength has already been depleted?"

"And how is it connected to the Book of Breathings? Why did it send you to our world?" Aelin said, a serious look overtaking her face. The Aelin from a few hours ago was gone, in her place stood a true warrior queen who was worried for the safety of her people, of her world, who would do anything to keep the balance and peace.

Y/n sighed as she said, "We won't get any answers until we manage to decipher this ancient and foreign language."

Aelin and Lysandra nodded as the latter said, "But how? I do not think any of us know of this language and Aelin said we can not involve external sources so what do we do?"

Y/n said, "I have- had a close friend back at home. She could always decipher these kinds of things. I always admired her patience to sit, locked up in her house for days, not leaving until she figured it out."

Y/n had a sorrowful, nostalgic look on her face as she gazed through the large window to the outer world, remembering Amren. Her closest companion. Did she even care for y/n? What was she doing now?

Unbeknownst to her, Aelin and Lysandra were both staring at her, with a pitiful look on their faces. A look that conveyed how they felt for her, so lost and away from home.

Aelin put a gentle hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality as she softly said, "I am sure we shall find a way. Come now, let us take the book and leave. We got what we needed."

Once they left the library with the book in y/n's hands, a servant came running towards them as she bowed at Aelin and said, "My queen, the Hand of the King Chaol Westfall and his wife lady Yrene Westfall have arrived at last."

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

A/n: Over 5k words! It seems like this number will only go higher as the plot thickens which, believe me it will. So much is coming you guys, but for now, I thank you for taking the time to read this and see you in the next chapter <3

Taglist: @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @blackgirlmagicforever

@acotar-writing @paleidiot @snoopyspace @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch

@wallacewillow0773638 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @bunnyredgirl

[jenchan-writingmultis]

I love your writings! Can I ask for oneshot with Vil and fem!Reader who is a prankster, troublemaker, is in Pomefiore, has a chaotic personality (something like Floyd mixed with sassy Epel's side). Her fashion sense is questionable by vil because she loves streetwear fashion (especially baggy clothes). Her unique magic lets her turning into anyone (ofc without getting that person's unique magic but imagine the moment when she turns into Neige to make vil's blood boiling)

Fluff/crack, kinda enemies to lovers, sfw (eventually A BIT suggestive)🤭

Beauty in Chaos

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪ Pairing: Vil x Chaotic Fem! Reader

A/n: hoooh this was a tough one! I hope you like it Anonnie! Hopefully, I hit the right spot for this reader! This wasn’t my best work, but I still hope you like it (╥﹏╥) Thank you so much for the request! Credits: The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Warning: SLIGHTLY suggestive, a bit of angst, mostly fluff. Rough Vil.

Reminders: Ma poupée is a French term of endearment that means "my doll". Masterlist

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Vil was confused, no he was outright appalled, not only was someone far from the vision of Pomefiore itself assigned to his dormitory, but you also didn’t even have an ounce of decency during the ceremony! Your clothing was ragged, not maintained and you had the audacity to tie the ceremonial robes like it was just some pajamas, he truly didn’t understand when the mirror said that your soul belonged in “Pomefiore”.

"Huh, didn't expect the Pomefiore dorm to be so fancy,” you walked toward Vil, offering him a lazy smile as if you hadn't just insulted him. He glared at you, then grabbed your robes, causing you to squeak in surprise. he began ugging and tying your robes properly. "Hey!" you whined, trying to push him away, but he continued fixing your "style" or whatever fashion disaster you had made of the robes.

“Stay still, you’re going to make this worse for yourself” he was fuming, with finishing touches he finally lets you go, making you huff. “Not cool dude.” you said before pouting.

“Dude?” Vil’s eyes narrowed on you, “From this day forward, you will call me Vil, or housewarden.”  he fixes your hair, his fingers brushing your forehead, making you jump back a bit. The way your “housewarden” randomly touched people made you think he might be a weirdo.

“Okay, ‘Vil,’” you huffed, rolling your eyes, which made Vil angrier. He was being lenient with a fresh potato like you, but you seemed to be testing his patience. “Enough, you’re going to need training. Your behavior and style bring disgrace to Pomefiore’s name.” Hearing that, you pouted further. What exactly was wrong with being a little bit laid back? This guy was bonkers.

Before Vil could grab you to drag you with him, since you clearly didn’t want to cooperate, a tall man with a bob haircut stepped between you and Vil. “Roi de Poison,” he called out, his smile unwavering and affectionate. “I believe Ma poupée could learn a thing or two from your gracious self, yes?” His calming words instantly soothed Vil’s anger, prompting Vil to raise an eyebrow at Rook, and signaling him to elaborate.

“She’s just new here. With your guidance, she could blossom into something magnificent,” Rook continued, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Every freshman here has an eye-catching appearance and soul, as the mirror itself has said. You wouldn’t want her talent and appearance to go to waste, right?”

Vil pondered this, his gaze shifting back to you as Rook looked at you as well. Both men examined your face, then glanced at each other, seemingly communicating through their eyes.

While your style was a jumble of mess, you had a cute face, and he’s curious how you would survive, considering you’re a special case in Crowley’s book. “Potato” he signals you to follow him as he calls the other “fresh potatoes”.

Walking behind him, Rook patted your head, leaving you feeling confused. You looked up at him as he winked, his expression reassuring. “Forgive Roi de Poison for how he treated you earlier; he was on edge because of the ceremony,” he assured you, his gaze drifting back to his housewarden. “I hope to see you shine as brightly as he does, Ma poupée,” he continued. You didn’t quite understand his manner of speaking with all the French nicknames, which you didn’t bother trying to decipher. Nonetheless, his words were encouraging, so you thanked him sincerely.

You didn’t expect such a blatant display of hostility infront of you for a first day, watching as he had the freshmen along with you in one line, you thought that the Housewarden of Pomefiore looked so weak, all dainty and feminine but you guessed wrong since he held such authority, and the way he manhandled you earlier got you excited a bit. How strong, you want to push him to his limits.

The moment you got into your dorm, you were surprised with how huge the place is, tidy, neat and gorgeous, the aesthetic colliding with how yours, the way that Vil fixed your outfit was uncomfortable too, the waistband being too tight around your waist while the outfit was too… stuffy for your taste, sneakily undoing it a bit, you thought that Vil wouldn’t notice since he was busy giving some kind of dorm rules speech or whatever that is.

“Potato” he calls out, you continued to loosen up your outfit, not even thinking that the “Potato” he was talking about was you, till you heard light footsteps and a figure looming over you, that got you to jolt and look at him surprised. “Wha-"

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, all your rustling was distracting him. Great another confrontation, you smiled, “Uh, I dunno, I’m fixing my robe?” you answered, continuing your fixing, which in Vil’s eyes you’re putting it back into the style he didn’t like so much. “Is that so?”

The other freshmen were looking at you, sweat dropping while some remained silent and waiting for what Vil will do. “Your display of disobedience displeases me” he said as he smiles, a smile that got you stopping your endeavor, “After you finish “Fixing” your attire, please come meet me here after every freshman including you, has settled in their rooms.”

Extra lessons great, you’re not quite sure why Vil seemed to have hyperfixated on you, all you did have a “unique” style! The other freshmen along with the second years give you pitying look as you settle in the room you got, usually two people share the room, and lucky for you, you got to share it with your new friend, Epel.

“Dude,” he called you out, frowning, “He’s targeting you” he says worriedly, as he takes all his possessions out, while you on the other hand, didn’t bring much but necessities and a Gameboy that your guardian decided to put in your bag in case you get bored. “I can handle it,” you declared with confidence, as you sit down on the soft cushion of your bed. “Plus, it ain’t just me, you’re targeted too” you teased which cause Epel to stiffen up.

“He kept rambling about being the “poison apple” or something, he’s such a…” Epel stopped himself which made you laugh, however, that little moment was stopped abruptly when a knock at the door was heard.

“Vil said, it’s time for your training, come on out” A second-year student calls out as he walks away, expecting you to follow him, which if you didn’t, Vil would be dragging you out of your room, you stood up, Epel gave you a sad look before you pinched his cheek. “You’re making it look like I’m gonna get sacrificed to a demon”

“You are though!”

“shush” you laughed before walking out, Vil was sitting down on an extravagant couch, teacups on both sides and an intricate teapot in the middle. “Come, sit” he invited you to sit down obediently not taking no for an answer, and by habit, you seemed to have sat down with your legs wide open, an unbecoming display for a Pomefiore student.

“Close your legs” he places the teacup down, for your first day you disappointed him multiple times now, why must he teach you every etiquette that was supposed to be learnt during elementary?

“No,” you snide, somehow, his aura from earlier vanished and he just looked like a snappy mother. You placed your feet on the glass table, wanting to piss him off further.

Bad move, before you even placed your legs up, a firm surge of magic encircled your legs, keeping them suspended mid-air. An angry Vil using his magic to keep you from staining the table; He stood up abruptly, forcing you to lower your legs on the floor, grabbing your cheeks as he forced you to make eye contact with him.

“It seems like you don’t intend to learn and respect the rules under my authority” he says, stiffening up you tried to push his grip away from you, but it was firm, it didn’t hurt per se, it was just… rough.

“Hey, let me go” you squirmed causing him to lessen his grip on your cheeks, it was squished making you look like a pufferfish, and that accidentally activated your magic, causing a little poof as Vil pulled away, eyes widening as he sees the face of Neige, staring back at him with the same surprised expression. “Sorry- I didn’t mean” you said, as you tried to turn back, to no avail, your unique magic doesn’t let you since it’s the type of magic that you can’t just turn off, Vil who looked like he just saw a ghost. “What is your unique magic?” he asked, distancing himself, unnerved by the uncanny resemblance of your face to his enemy. You groan, you were gonna use it to leave the dormitory sometimes just to roam around the campus by yourself, it sucks you already got caught, first day too.

“My unique magic turns me into another person that the other despises” you explained, scratching the back of your neck before you realized who you just turned to. “Wait” you looked at your current form, noticing who it was, you looked at the glass table, before stifling a laugh. “You despise Neige?”

Vil on the other hand seemed to not be having any of your shenanigans, this was your first day and you were already trying to rile him up, thrice.  “Do not do this to me” he warns as he clicks his tongue, your power was quite useful, you could work as a stunt double in movies. “Wow, Vil, I didn’t expect you to despise your rival this much though” Walking closer, you fluttered your eyelashes on him, it was a taunt, the face of Neige going closer to him in such a way made his blood boil.

“Come on, Vil-san” you teased him, using the voice of THE Neige Le blanche and the nickname you usually heard from Neige whenever they were together for an interview, and that made him snap, grabbing your collar, he pulls you closer to his face, his gaze on you cold, you could feel it piercing through your soul, its actually scary.

“Your pathetic excuse of wanting to be friends with me will not work on me” he murmurs, you froze a bit, noticing  how he clenched on your uniform, you immediately knew that he wasn’t talking to you but rather the person who you morphed into, feeling guilty you held  his hand, luckily your unique magic finally decided to get you back to your original form, you pulled him into a hug, unsure what to do as you rub his back.

Vil didn’t pull away, he stiffened up at first before he melted into the hug as he squeezes you a bit, an odd gesture, well it was odd for him to lose composure over a freshman.

“I apologize” he murmurs, he still wanted to continue hugging you, however, you two were in the living room, anyone can come and stay there in any moment, so he pulled away, fixing his uniform.

“It’s fine dude,” you said, smiling at him, trying to ease the tension, “We all got our moments, my bad that I triggered something in you” That wasn’t your intention, you didn’t want to see that again considering how upset Vil looked when you transformed into Neige.

“Dude again?” he sighs, although this time he wasn’t angry, maybe all that anger burst out when you shifted into someone he least wanted to see.

“Come now, it’s not bad, dude fits you! Or do you prefer dudette?” you joked as you jabbed his ribs a bit, he groaned before grabbing your head. “Behave” he scolds you, and that precious little moment was broken when Rook came, almost like he was going to cry.

“Magnifique display of affection and friendship! Roi De Poison! Ma poupée!” he says, jumping to both of you into a hug, you jolt before grunting as you laugh, hugging him back while Vil looks less inclined to hug the other back.

“Rook, unhand me” he says as he pushes the man gently, getting him to let go as he fixes his uniform once again. “Seriously” he says disappointedly as Rook smiles at him apologetically, “there is beauty in chaos Roi de poison” he continues, crossing his arms., “I’m sure you two would get along”

All of that happening in just the first day was impressive, you were quick to befriend Vil, although it was more like a frenemies type of friendship, you always end up making his head ache whenever you do things that made Pomefiore look shameful, like eating loudly, planting your legs on the couch when you go back to your dorm.

Christ! When he went to check on you and Epel’s room it was a mess! The pillows on the floor and the blankets too! Disorganized shelves, that day he forced you and Epel to wake up at the crack of dawn just to start deep cleaning your room.

Grumbling as while you were half asleep, trying to fix your bed, it was a task you purposefully did slowly, and Vil was starting to get angry as he grabbed your pillows placing it on the bed, “Why are you so slow?” he asked, pointing at Epel with his eyes, “Look at him, he finished  in just 30 minutes, you’re barely cleaning”

Hearing that you smirked, bumping your shoulders to his “I have the great Vil Schoenheit in my bedroom, do you think I’d let that chance slip by?”

You swore you saw his cheeks heat up before he went to grab the rest of your “Things” if you even call it that, “Do not test me potato, I’m not easily swayed by sweet words” he says as he puts your stuff in the drawer, looking at Vil, you do notice how attractive he was, a few months ago, you wouldn’t even give it a thought, you saw him as a mother hen cause of how endearing he was, attentive but strict, all that jazz.

Seeing him in a different light though, you can tell why a lot of his fans always thirst over him, fair skin, tall, rich, and smart, is the definition of a perfect catch.

Noticing you looking at him, he couldn’t help but chuckle, he knew that gaze all too well, a stare that his fans often give him, although he wouldn’t be fazed by it, this was the first time he saw it on you.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna catch a cold” he teased a bit, standing up before he pushed your head down, he felt a bit flustered with the way you stared at him, so he had to. You whined a bit before grabbing his wrist, “C’mon I was just admiring your beauty” you protested, which made him chuckle. “I know”

Despite your differences, you two were getting along well.

Word Count: 2,676

[magicalbats]

Fantasies Play Out

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18.921

Warnings: aphrodisiacs, pining & yearning, pathetic soggy men. femdom, overstimulation, handjobs, PIV, cowgirl position, dacryphilia, rimming, anal fingering, prostate massage, edging & orgasm denial

A/N: Alright, here's my longest comm yet. I'm so, so happy the commissioner gave me permission to post this because I simply MUST continue to spread my femdom agenda, and what better candidate exists for tribute than Kaveh? lol This was written using one of the lovely @tearsofcalamity's OC's, her name is Jeanne and she's ... quite the woman, haha. If you're anything like me you shouldn't have any problem at all self inserting with the text left as is so ... please enjoy! ❤️

⭐

Peering sullenly into his open wallet, Kaveh breathes out a single lamentable sigh over how much lighter it now was. Practically empty by all accounts, and what little mora he did have left would go very quickly. This he knew a little too well. 

He was struggling. No ifs, ands or buts about that. Between trying to stay caught up on the rent and his considerable debt payments (which hardly even put a dent in the total sum he owed to the renowned Lord Sangemah Bay) as well as the quite necessary bottles of wine he purchased for himself at the taverns and the shops, it was all going to be gone again in frustratingly quick order. And he’d only just returned from his most recent job out in the arid desert too. What a shame. 

It couldn’t be helped though. He’d needed these components for Mehrak and there wasn’t any getting around the costly price tag that came with them when one was working with a piece of complicated machinery as old and mysterious as his little helper was. He couldn’t exactly begrudge her for that. Mehrak may have been a costly sinkhole, an extra expense he hadn’t needed, but she was also an exceptionally good assistant. And, well. Perhaps she also helped chase away some of the isolated loneliness he’d felt closing in around him since he’d lost everything he’d worked so hard for, but there was no sense in dwelling unnecessarily on that. 

Mournfully clasping the purse shut and tucking it away into the safety of his pocket, Kaveh says to the ironworks shopkeep, “Thank you, Rahid. I appreciate you always keeping these bits and baubles on hand for me.” 

Because of course Mehrak needed parts of a very specific dimension that weren’t found anywhere else in modern Sumeru so they needed to be custom made. A costly sinkhole indeed. 

Sitting behind the counter, the elderly man sends him what can only be a sympathetic look from under the bushy, dusted gray droop of his eyebrows. He was happy to make the petite screws and nuts, and odd shaped bolts Kaveh needed since it kept food on his family table but evidently he wasn’t without his scruples. He’d certainly been around long enough to recognize when someone was limping steadily towards his last leg, yet he could only discount his wares so much without giving them away for free.

His sympathy just makes the blond’s stomach flip in on itself though, and he quickly busies himself with gathering up the handful of metal pieces laid out between them on the counter of the small shop. Pity was the very last thing he needed right now. 

“You should take it easy, old friend. You’ve been working an awful lot lately.” Rahid says in his usual low rumble, his voice permanently raspy after a lifetime spent working the forges, breathing in all the hot steam and iron smoke of his craft. 

“Ah, thank you but I’m afraid I don’t have any time for that at the moment. Someone is always in need of an architect, aren’t they? Busy, busy, busy.” Kaveh tries for nonchalant, tries to laugh it off like it’s no big deal as he slips Mehrak’s new screws into his other pocket where they wouldn’t stab him the next time he reaches for his wallet, but Rahid hardly seems convinced. 

In fact, the way he stares at him over the counter would seem to suggest that he could smell bullshit from a mile away, and he wasn’t impressed with Kaveh’s attempt at deflection. 

His deliberately casual laughter quickly morphs into nervous chuckling. “Hey, now. What’s with that look, huh?” 

Rahid narrows his eyes as if he wanted to give Kaveh a right and proper tongue lashing but says instead, “Well, as true as that may be - and I don’t doubt that it is given the quality of your work - you should still make some time for yourself. Take it from an old coot like me. You’re still young and capable. Don’t get so focused on your livelihood that you forget to live a little. You’ll regret it when you get to be my age. Surely there are some girls around the city who have caught your eye that you’d like to get to know?” 

Well, there was one, but she wasn’t from the city, or even Sumeru for that matter. 

She also wasn’t what Kaveh would call a girl either. 

Thoughts drifting idly to Jeanne only to inevitably take up camp there, Kaveh decides that she’s all woman and what a woman she was. 

Fontainian by birth and blood, she was an enforcement officer of the Maison Gardiennage who came to Sumeru on business with some amount of regularity. What that entailed was more often than not tracking down scoundrels that thought escaping to the opposite shore of the vast sea would save them from her wrath, or mora hungry merchants with a penchant for trouble and a bit too much free time on their hands. 

They’d happened to run into each other during one such incident involving a Fontaine trader who was underreporting his earnings to avoid paying all the taxes he owed. Having been in the wrong place at the right time, Kaveh, young and just as naive as he was now, had very nearly gotten duped out of a month's worth of pay by the shady businessman. But then Jeanne suddenly appeared like the hero in a storybook to interrupt the transaction before it was too late, saving him from what, in retrospect, had clearly been a scam. She’d made quick work of the lout and the two of them had become fast friends after that. Even now it struck Kaveh as being curiously fateful, that initial encounter. Like he was some hapless damsel in distress and Jeanne the noble chevalier of justice. 

But that was about where the fanciful tale ended. Years later they were still just friends despite Kaveh’s occasionally wistful thoughts to the contrary of someday being more and it’s not as if anyone could really fault him for that. 

Jeanne wasn't only pretty, she was downright stunning. And not in spite of the bisecting scars that ran across her face but because of them. He’d never seen someone quite so beautiful or captivating, and he more than anyone else had an eye for that sort of thing. There were very few in this world who understood the concept of aesthetic objectivity quite like he did, especially when others were much too focused on their own predefined subjective tastes to look past that. In many ways, Jeanne was the kind of woman he could see himself wanting to spend the rest of his life with. 

Unfortunately for him, she was unflappable and largely oblivious to the puppy faced looks of wanting he’d sometimes catch himself leveling at her, especially when they were drinking together. She always seemed to think it was just the wine talking, influencing his behavior and making him more needy (and whiny) than he normally was. Of course she wasn’t exactly wrong about that, but it was beside the point. While Kaveh undoubtedly appreciated her willingness to humor him in her own curious way during such moments, it didn’t exactly do much to soothe the yearning in his heart. More than anything he wanted Jeanne to take him seriously, but it looked like that was never going to happen. 

He's so caught up in these spiraling thoughts that he doesn’t even realize he’s letting out another groaning, long suffering sigh until Rahid chuckles a knowing sound in return. 

“That bad, eh?” 

Kaveh snaps his attention up, surprised at his own slip. “What? No. Nothing’s bad. Everything’s great, in fact.” 

The aging ironworker pins him with a critical, wisened look that seems to speak volumes. Clearly there would be no fooling a man nearly triple his age who’s been around long enough to have already seen and done it all, but that doesn’t exactly make Kaveh feel any better about being so damn transparent. 

“I’m afraid there’s no hiding it, boy. You can lie to yourself if you like but there’ll be no pulling one over on this old dog. I’ve heard that kind of sigh before. You’ve got a little sweetheart, don’t you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffs, fluster quickly creeping up on him like a potent, thrumming buzz. “She’s not little. Th — I mean. I mean she wouldn’t be, if there was someone like that. But there’s not. I don’t have the time–“

“Alright, alright,” Rahid mercifully cuts off his floundering with a wave of his wrinkled hand. “I get it. There isn’t a girl you’re soft for.” 

“A woman.” Kaveh can’t help but correct him even when he knows he’s only digging his own grave deeper still. 

“Yes, of course. But if there was … what would be stopping you from courting the young lady? Surely you don’t lack for confidence? A handsome and successful architect such as yourself should have no problem getting anyone at all you set your sights on.” 

The blond hesitates, opening his mouth and then closing it again in favor of chewing on his bottom lip instead. He was tempted, oh, he was very tempted to lay it all bare. It’s not like he had anyone else to confide in about this sort of thing without running the risk of being laughed right out of the room. Or worse, stared at in contemptible silence and wordless judgment by the likes of that blasted Al-Haitham. He’d sooner take all his secrets to the afterlife before ever trying to have a discussion like this with the scribe. 

But Rahid was an old friend whom Kaveh has known for many years now and a decidedly trustworthy individual. He’d never sold him faulty parts or tried to price gouge him, hadn’t even asked what he needed these peculiar components for like many others might have. If there was anyone who could be trusted with this information it was probably him. 

Cautiously, Kaveh sends him a slow look of consideration. “Hypothetically speaking?” 

The old man nods in agreement. “Aye. Hypothetically.” 

“Well … if there were someone — and do keep in mind that this is purely speculative conjecture — if there were someone like that and they genuinely didn’t seem to realize I wanted to pursue them, what else could I possibly do to get my feelings across? Especially if they don’t even live here and I only get to see them on occasion …” 

Rahid lifts his brows in surprise. “She’s not from Sumeru?” 

“Hypothetically!” 

“Hmm. Well, I can see how that might cause you some trouble then. Trying to make a long distance relationship work is always hard. But, tell me boy, have you actually told her what you’ve just told me?” 

“I — I have, just … not in quite so many words, I guess.” Feeling his cheeks grow hot at the unbidden memory of grumbling out a half baked attempt to flirt with her the last time Jeanne had been in town, Kaveh drops his gaze and anxiously shifts from one foot to the other. It hadn’t worked, of course. He’d been so drunk and vibrating with liquid courage that he couldn’t even remember what exactly he’d said to her. All he knew with any certainty was that she’d softly tutted at him that he’d had enough for one night before wandering off to fetch him a glass of water. The lingering embarrassment was almost enough to make him feel faint. 

But at Rahid’s pressing sound of encouragement, Kaveh jumps at the chance and recounts the whole sorry tale to him in an impulsive rush that comes pouring from his mouth, unable to stop it even if he’d wanted to. He tells the old man everything; how they met, how simultaneously wonderful and imposing Jeanne could be at the same time and yet how oblivious she still seemed regarding his feelings. He even lamented, ad nauseum, how she never lost her composure while they were drinking long into the night together and how he couldn’t figure out how to crack her shell because of it. 

Eyes brightening at that last bit, Rahid abruptly leans forward against the rickety counter as if in great interest. “That right there sounds like your chance, boy. If she won’t hear you out sober, then you should do it when her guard is down. Everyone is more open to suggestions when they’ve got alcohol in them.” 

“But that’s the problem. No matter how much she drinks, she never lets her guard down. I don’t exactly consider myself a lightweight but she’s got the tolerance of a bear!”

“I see.” Murmuring thoughtfully, Rahid leans back to cross his arms in consideration. It’s clear he’s pondering over something with all the appropriate weight and gravitas the situation calls for. But he reaches his conclusion surprisingly quickly — much more quickly than Kaveh could ever make up his mind — and he stands with a soft scrape of his stool against the shop's floorboards. “Give me a moment. I think I may have something that could help you.” 

Blinking owlishly, Kaveh tracks his steps over to a stout cabinet pushed up against the side wall where he slides open one of the drawers with a dull jostle. 

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’ve got some hundred year old snake wine waiting on standby for just such an occasion or something?” 

“Ehh, not quite. But this should do just as well, if not better. Here we are.” Pulling out something that remains unseen in his blocky fist, Rahid closes the drawer back up and returns to the counter. Kaveh isn’t quite sure what to expect, but the petite glass vial he holds out to him is somehow the very last thing he could have guessed. There’s a faintly pinkish liquid inside that sloshes against the interior at the slightest shift and, squinting, Kaveh leans closer to get a better look. 

“What is that, some sort of alchemical potion?” 

“You’re not wrong, but you’re not exactly right either. Just take it. Trust me. You’ll be grateful you did the next time this young lady is in Sumeru. A few drops of this in her drink will have her, uh, loosening up quite a bit and you’ll have your chance to talk to her as much as you want.”

Kaveh shoots him a plainly horrified glance. “Are you telling me to drug her? She’ll kill me, Rahid, have you lost your mind?” 

“Archons above, this isn’t going to incapacitate her or nothing like that. Relax. My wife and I use this stuff to get in the mood with one another in our old age, that’s all. It just helps us with the warm up, if you get what I’m saying.” 

The blond offers a soft sound of enlightenment as if he understood perfectly now but, given the way Rahid critically eyes him, it’s clear the older man isn’t entirely convinced he does. 

For better or worse Kaveh is much too preoccupied with staring at the small vial in rapt fascination to notice though, and his hands idly clench into greedy fists where they’re braced against the counter. Regardless of his understanding or not, there was no denying the wisdom in Rahid’s suggestion. If Jeanne wouldn’t allow herself to drop her walls naturally then giving her a little nudge in the right direction was just the logical next step, wasn’t it? He was always much more loose lipped with a few drinks in him so if he could coax her into being the same … 

This really might be the thing that would finally tip the scales in his favor where the Fontanian woman was concerned. 

“How … how much would you want for that?” He finally brings himself to ask. 

“Nothing, old friend.”  The soft note of sympathy in his voice is clear as day, and it brings Kaveh’s attention up with a snap. Ignoring his hurried protests, Rahid reaches across the counter and bullies the glass bottle into his fumbling hands, adamantly refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Like I said, just take it. You need it more than I do, don’t you boy? My wife and I can get by without. Besides, it sounds like your situation is much more dire anyway. Just promise me you’ll take a break from working so much and put it to good use, eh?” 

Gently cradling the vial in his palms like it was some sort of precious, highly fragile artifact, Kaveh gropes for something to say. He couldn’t very well let it slip that he didn’t have much choice and reveal just how far from grace he’d fallen in the process, not without permanently staining his reputation as a capable and respected graduate of the Akademiya. 

But the greater meaning behind this gesture is not lost on him. Not by a long shot, and he finally settles on, “Thank you, Rahid. A thousand times, thank you. I hope you know how much I appreciate this.” 

Dismissing him with a brief wave of his hand, the old man quickly turns away, giving him his back. “Not another word about it, Kaveh. Now get out of here. Before I change my mind.” Then, like an afterthought, he adds, “I’ll make sure to have more of those components on hand for the next time you need them. Take care of yourself out there.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The little bell over the door chimes a merry sound as he steps out into the street and the humidity dense, year-long heat of Sumeru. The city is a constant buzz of noise and bustling activity, myriad smells from nearby cafes and vendors, but Kaveh hardly notices any of it while he makes his way down the road. His attention is all for the petite vial in his hand, so slight yet monumentally heavy against his palm. 

It was strange to think that something this small and seemingly benign could potentially be the answer to at least one of the many problems in his life. But as they say, matters of the heart are some of the most significant and challenging one can face, and he was inclined to agree. 

Financial problems could be parsed and sorted out in due time. Hell, even his living arrangements seemed stable enough for him not to have to worry about it too much at the current moment. Al-Haitham, for all of his bad attitude and unreasonable nature, seemed perfectly content with the way things were, even if Kaveh did sometimes suspect he’d only reached out a hand to lorde it over his head. Did that really mean it was okay for him to be expending this sort of energy on the issue of Jeanne rather than any of his other troubles though? 

“Well,” He murmurs softly under his breath, consideringly turning the bottle this way and that to watch how the rosy liquid inside reflects in the sunlight. “There’s no telling when I’ll even get to see her again so I think this should be fine. At least I’m prepared now.” 

Which was more than could be said before that exchange with Rahid. He’d have to remember to thank him properly for it later when he was back on his feet again, especially if the mysterious concoction ended up working a veritable miracle. Hopefully that wouldn’t be too far out in the future.  

Moreover though, the implication of what he was holding in his hand was a bit too tempting for him to think any better of it or reconsider his ready acceptance of this gift. Rahid had only said it would loosen her up but what exactly did that entail? He’d never seen her lose her composure before so Kaveh had no idea what that might look like. Would a truly inebriated Jeanne be clingy and soft with him? Prone to whining, the way he sometimes was? Or perhaps she would allow herself to laugh more openly, more freely without her self imposed walls there holding her back. 

The thought alone makes him huff a quiet laugh as he makes the turn into the packed market square, intending to cut through to get home a little quicker. “Yeah right, maybe when shroomboars sprout wings and fly. That would be awfully cute though …” 

And if her lips were loosened enough to coax a long anticipated yet never realized confession out of her? All the better then. She may not have taken him or any of his prior attempts at flirting seriously but surely she wouldn’t discredit her own actions once everything was said and done, right? 

Feeling oddly optimistic about the situation, Kaveh lifts his head to pay attention to where he’s going only to damn near drop the bottle in surprise when his eyes immediately alight upon a tall figure. The height as much as the manner of dress makes her stand out in the crowd, a feathered cap and a heavy coat worn over the shoulders that are at complete odds with the common attire. The burgundy red hair is what truly strikes a familiar note of wanting in his heart though, and he comes to an abrupt, lurching halt to stare at her in disbelief. 

She hasn’t noticed him just yet, only halfway through the motion of turning away from the owner of the shawarma stall she’d stopped at, but it didn’t really matter. He still recognized her on such an intrinsic, bone deep level that a shock of static electricity promptly surges through his entire body to set him abuzz from head to toe. Mouth going drier than the desert plains, he openly gapes at her like a beached fish. 

She notices him standing there another heartbeat later and, blinking at him in her closest approximation of startlement, Jeanne moves to face him. “Oh, what a coincidence. I was just on my way to pay you a visit. How have you been?” 

Kaveh fumbles desperately for something intelligent to say, coming up decidedly empty handed. It was like just the sight of her had short circuited his brain so beyond repair that no amount of trying to kick start it back into gear was working. There was simply no way, no way she’d just so happened to appear before him like this though. Was someone playing a cruel joke on him? Or had he finally cracked under the building pressure piling up around him and he was now hallucinating the singular object of his desires? 

But the longer he goes without responding the more her usually stoic expression pinches in vague concern, and he finally has to force himself to clear his throat with a rough cough so he can speak. “I - I’m fine. Good. Better than ever, in fact. What about you? I wasn’t … I didn’t expect to run into you like this.” 

Her suspicions evidently alleviated, Jeanne allows her expression to fall back to her usual neutral mask again. “I'm well. I thought about sending you a letter of correspondence prior to my arrival but I figured a surprise would do just as well. It’s not often I get the chance to drop in unexpectedly like this, after all. And for the better, it seems. Were you just on your way home?” 

“Oh, yes, I was just …” Kaveh trails off when a cold note of terror races down his spine. She didn’t yet know he’d lost everything. All of his furniture, his house, his beautifully maintained garden on the veranda that now belonged to someone else who’d no doubt swooped in like a vulture to buy up the gorgeous property he’d had no choice but to sell. He didn’t have a home to go back to unless you counted Al-Haitham’s largely minimal space and there wasn’t a god strong enough in this world or any other that could make him take her there. Even if she had sent him a letter there was a very real chance he never would have gotten it. 

“Kaveh?” Jeanne’s voice breaks through the muddled mess in his head as abruptly as if she’d sucker punched him, and he snaps out of it with a jolt. “Are you quite alright? You look a little pale to me.” 

“I’m fine!” He insists, a bit more loudly than he’d intended, only to grimace when she narrows her eyes again with renewed suspicion. “Sorry, sorry. I promise I’m fine, honest.” He quickly tries again, much more softly this time. “I just got back from a job out near Aaru Village, that’s all. I guess I’m still feeling a bit fatigued but it shouldn’t be anything a glass or two of wine won’t fix, haha… Come on. What do you say? For old times’ sake?”  

At his nervous attempt at laughter, Jeanne breathes out a quiet sigh and shakes her head. “Wine isn’t the solution to all of life’s problems, Kaveh. Haven’t I told you that before?” 

“Well, you’re not wrong of course, but in this case it most certainly is. You’ll see. Why don’t we just go down to Lambad’s for a drink? You’ve already got a snack to go with it.” 

Kaveh gestures towards the single serving of shawarma clasped in her hand and, as if she’d forgotten she was even holding it, Jeanne contemplatively glances down at the shishkabob skewer. Taking his chance while she’s not looking, he covertly slides the little vial into his pocket and safely out of sight before she can notice it. He hadn’t quite gotten so far as figuring out how he was going to slip a few drops of the mysterious substance into whatever she was drinking but thankfully she wouldn’t have reason to question him about it just yet. That solved at least one of the many problems her sudden appearance had presented. 

Now he only needed to stall her long enough to decide what he was going to tell her regarding his living situation. One issue at a time here. 

“I suppose I could do with a drink.” She says, bringing her attention back up just as he’s withdrawing his now empty hand from his pocket. “But you need to hydrate yourself before anything else if you’re feeling unwell after your travels. Promise me you’ll make sure to drink some water when we get there?” 

“Deal.” He gratefully blurts even as his heart gives a dully subdued flutter inside his chest. Jeanne, feared enforcer of Fontaine and scourge of all wrongdoers, worried about him? Kaveh would’ve been tempted to giggle over it like a schoolgirl had he not been so weak in the knees with relief. As long as he could keep her distracted enough that she didn’t start asking any prying questions, there was a very real chance he could still salvage this. 

Nodding once to indicate that the decision has been made, Jeanne leans down as if to grab the stately, heavy looking luggage at her feet. But even in his frazzled state Kaveh is still quick to jump into action and he lunges forward, snatching it up off the ground before she can. He falters though at the weight, a small grunt leaving him when he encounters more resistance than he’d anticipated. He quickly recovers though and bounces upright again with a victorious grin aimed at her even as his arm threatens to buckle under the weight of his new burden.  

Not looking particularly amused, she levels him with a frown. “You needn’t concern yourself with that, Kaveh. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own suitcase, seeing as I’ve been doing just that up until now.” 

“I know that but please, I insist. Isn’t this what they call chivalry back in Fontaine? I’m just making sure you feel at home, that’s all.”

She tries to fight it but a brief, rueful smile still manages to grace her mouth. It’s as beautiful as it is fleeting, and Kaveh has to work very hard to keep his free hand from coming up to touch at the spot over his chest where his heartbeat is pounding out a staccato rhythm. He really did have it bad. Not that that comes as a surprise when he’d already known full well but there was something reassuring in having such a tangible confirmation that his feelings for her haven’t changed or lessened one bit since the last time they’d met for a meal and drinks. 

It fills him with a fresh surge of hope for the prospects of this unexpected chance encounter as they start to make their way down the road together. Still, though, he can’t shake the feeling that something seemed a bit unusual about her demeanor this time. Far be it that he was complaining but Jeanne wasn’t typically in the habit of being so laid back or relaxed, and that makes him shoot her a curious look. Her posture was as proud as ever yet seemingly less severe in the set of her shoulders and the sure sway of her hips. Most anyone else probably wouldn’t have caught on that anything at all was different but he certainly had. 

“You must have only just gotten here if you haven’t even dropped off your luggage yet. Talk about good timing. And forgive me for being blunt but you seem to be in a good mood today. What kind of job are you here for this time?” 

Another small smile pulls at her mouth, but this time it doesn’t immediately disappear. “There is no job. I’m on vacation. Lucky me, right?” 

Kaveh’s lips slowly part. She’d been given holiday from her obligations within the Gardiennage and she’d decided to spend that time in Sumeru? With him? He almost doesn’t believe his own ears even as he blurts, “Oh, that’s wonderful! You’re always working so hard, you’ve certainly earned yourself a break by now. But … you could have gone anywhere, right? Why here?” 

Jeanne sends him a lingering glance that he can’t decipher quickly enough before she turns her attention forward again with a quiet sniff. “Why not? I like it in Sumeru, and it’s not a very long trip. I’m familiar enough with the roads and the people that it just seemed like the logical conclusion.” 

“Ah, right. The old stomping grounds, eh?” He laughs, trying to cover up the distant note of disappointment that creeps in. Of course she wouldn’t choose to come here for him, specifically. He was just one of probably many faces that made up the familiar tapestry of the foreign city in her mind. His wishful thinking was going to get him in trouble some day. 

The physical manifestation of that was a heavy burden in his pocket that he couldn’t ignore when each step seemed to emphasize the weight of the vial resting against his thigh. Perhaps accepting Rahid’s offer had been a mistake after all. If there was nothing there in the first place then no amount of loosening up was going to improve his situation with her, would it? 

And that was to say nothing of the fact that he still had no idea what to tell her about his descent into poverty. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lambad’s Tavern isn’t particularly busy in the middle of the day but it’s not quite empty either, so Kaveh makes a point of picking out a secluded booth seat in the far back corner. He’d cited wanting to be away from the oud player and the crowd naturally drawn in by live music when she’d given him an odd look, but in reality he’d needed the relative privacy to get his head on straight. 

Over an hour later and he still hasn’t quite accomplished that, nor has he made a single decision on how to proceed from here. Not whether to tell her the truth or come up with a convenient excuse as to why he couldn’t invite her back to his place for a nightcap as he customarily did. Not whether to slip her some of the pink concoction when she wasn’t looking or toss it in the trash at his earliest opportunity to be rid of the evidence. Kaveh wasn’t normally this hesitant or irresolute but the situation was so littered with proverbial land mines that he feared making the wrong move a little too much to make any move at all. 

And Jeanne, in all the splendor and glow of the relaxed mood brought about by her holiday away from the court of Fontaine, was not making it any easier on him. 

“I did miss having your company, you know. Since I’m not on the clock this time I say we try to make the most of it while we can. I think we should go sightseeing together, actually.” She says, perfectly casual about it while she picks up her stout goblet from the table and takes a sip. He can’t help watching from the corner of his eye how the elegant line of her throat daintily bobs with the swallow but he quickly averts his gaze before she can notice. 

There was very little he wouldn’t give to press his mouth to that pale strip of flesh and nuzzle into her pulse. He felt like he was going mad. Jeanne de la Roche herself wanted to spend that much time with him? Willingly? It almost seemed too good to be true. 

“It occurred to me that I haven’t ventured out from the capital city or the port towns very much,” Jeanne goes on, idly swirling the glass in her hand now. “But Sumeru is a rather large country, isn’t it? I should think I’d like to see more of it.” 

Eager to busy himself with something so he can hide his jittery nerves, Kaveh leans forward to take up the decanter from the table and refills his own cup. He knew he was drinking a little too fast for a situation as precarious as this one but it couldn’t be helped. It would’ve seemed far more strange if he’d hardly touched his wine at all after pleading with her to come here. 

“Why, of course we can.” He tells her as amicably as he can manage. “I already have a few places in mind that I’d love to show you. I’m probably not the best candidate to play tour guide but … if you think you’re up for it, I can probably move some stuff around in my schedule.” 

Never mind the fact he didn’t yet have another job lined up after only just completing the last. His financial troubles had forced him to be a little more cautious about where and how he spent his time. Long gone were the days where he could leisurely mingle at the parties and grand openings hosted by wealthy businessmen or dignitaries who were keen on networking with him lest he run the risk of his secret getting out. Reputation was, unfortunately, a key factor in such stuffy social circles and he’d largely distanced himself from that particular crowd under the guise of being too busy to humor them. It was a vicious cycle and he could feel the pressure steadily closing in around him even now. 

But Jeanne didn’t need to know that. She’d probably understand it, given her own experiences dealing with courtiers and unreasonable noblemen who were accustomed to things being done a certain way, but he didn’t want to unload all of his woes on her. Not yet. 

Or preferably ever, if he was lucky enough to get out of it entirely. 

And she seems pleased enough with his willingness to accommodate her that he’s certain he’s made the right choice. Her smile is private and brief when she flashes it at him, but the teal of her eyes takes on a stunning warmth that very nearly makes his heart give out on the spot.

“Excellent. Of course I won’t take up all of your time though. I know just how busy you usually are but I must admit I’m looking forward to it. Are you certain a day or two of exploring Sumeru’s countryside together won’t hurt your productivity too much?” 

“Certainly not.” He swallows hard. “I’m looking forward to having a break of my own. All the better if it’s with you.” 

Offering up a brief sound of agreement, Jeanne thoughtfully glances down into her cup with that same secretive smile still in place. It strikes him as oddly curious, like there was more at play behind her good mood than just the vacation or the drink, but as always she doesn’t allow him enough time to parse what it might mean. 

Unfolding her legs where they’d been neatly crossed one over the other, she sets her goblet back down on the table and rises to her feet. “Then it’s settled. Excuse me for just a moment. I’m afraid I need to visit the powder room.” 

“Please, take your time.” He murmurs, attentively watching as she steps out from the booth before disappearing further into the tavern. Kaveh feels vaguely like a clingy puppy at the vague sense of loss that comes with watching her go but he quickly snaps himself out of it. 

This was his chance, wasn’t it? 

Surreptitiously, he glances at the glass she’s left behind. It would be all too easy to slip a few drops into her drink and no one would be none the wiser when their table was sequestered in the far back corner, away from where any prying eyes would be able to see it. Except he still hadn’t quite made up his mind yet. Was this a step too far? Would he be breaking some unspoken trust between them if he went through with this? 

The clock was ticking. He’d have to make his decision fast. 

“Dammit,” Cursing under his breath, Kaveh fumbles to get his hand inside his pocket. The glass vial feels warm from his own body heat as he wraps his long fingers around its slight circumference but he hardly even notices it in his flustered state. If he really went through with this … if he actually slipped her something without her knowledge … 

Oh, Jeanne was going to string him up like a solstice turkey if she ever found out. 

“I can’t do it.” He murmurs, hating the sinking feeling of defeat that makes his stomach feel like a solid lead weight yet he knew this was a line he just couldn’t bring himself to cross. No matter how badly he wanted to see her punch drunk and giggly (if such a Jeanne even existed) there was simply no way he’d ever be able to reconcile it with his conscience. In truth, he felt something like a slimy creep for even considering it in the first place. 

So he sits there for the next odd minutes, just sullenly regarding the little vial in his hand until she comes back and slides into the booth next to him again. His slumped shoulders must catch her attention, because she leans close to him to inspect what it is he’s looking at. 

“And what is this? Some sort of alchemical potion?” 

That manages to make him smile. “Hah. I said the same thing, you know. A friend gave this to me. He said a few drops in your drink would increase the efficacy and make it more potent.” 

Or something like that. Kaveh had been drinking a shade too fast since they got here to properly remember what exactly Rahid had told him. Not that that had been much to begin with, in retrospect. 

“Hmm. Interesting.” 

He’s not sure why he does it. Perhaps it’s the wine making his head feel fuzzy and muddled, or perhaps it’s nothing more than a last ditch effort on his part to win her over, but he holds it out to her in offering. “Wanna give it a try? I’m not sure how much effect it’ll actually have on you but …” 

She noises a brief sound of consideration, making up her mind surprisingly quick, and giving an elegant shrug. “I don’t see why not. I can’t even remember the last time I felt truly drunk.” 

“I’ve noticed that.” Numbly passing it over to her, Kaveh watches in disbelief as she uncorks the petite stopper and lifts it up to her nose for a sniff. He can hardly believe the situation would turn out this way after all the indecisive grief he’d endured leading up to this moment. 

Not only had he saved himself from dealing with the long lasting guilt of doing something so nefarious behind her back but she was also willing to drink it on her own accord? It truly seemed too good to be true. 

But, to his continued surprise, she does indeed reach out to position the vial over her waiting cup. A deliberate turn of her wrist sends a few pink droplets falling into the wine, dying it a faintly rust color in the center where it slowly starts to bleed out towards the edges. Jeanne appears to hesitate though, and at first he assumes she’s rethinking this decision – which he couldn’t exactly fault her for if that were the case. But then she tips the glass bottle again, spilling another healthy dose into her goblet, and his brows take a very expeditious trip up to his hairline.

“Uh, don’t you think that might be too much?”

“We’ll find out, won't we?” She shoots back, and he doesn’t realize she’s teasing him rather than issuing a challenge until she sends him a confidential smile. “It’s just as you said, Kaveh. There’s no way to know how much effect this will even have on me so I don’t see what harm it could do. You’ll have to forgive me though if I start acting like a fool. Can I trust you to watch over me if that happens?”

Kaveh starts to open his mouth, wanting to reassure her that everything is fine, of course he would, and to not give it another thought. But before he can even get a single word out she abruptly leans forward to snatch up her glass. In one smooth motion she brings it up to her mouth, tips it bottoms up, and drains what must be a good half of its contents all at once. 

Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, the blond lurches forward to grab at her elbow. “Woah, woah, hey! Slow down, there’s no rush is there? Don’t — you can’t drink it that fast!” 

She lowers the goblet enough to say, “And why not?” before decisively lifting it again. 

“Because -“ He fumbles for something to say, anything other than the humiliating truth, even as he grips her tight in an attempt to stay her hand. It’s no use though. She’s much too strong, stronger than him by a very noticeable margin, and there’s nothing he can do to stop her from taking another healthy swig. 

Such a realization probably would have hurt another man’s ego, left him feeling emasculated and lesser than. But Kaveh, on the contrary and much to his growing horror, only feels a dizzying rush of sharp edged excitement swell in his gut when her bicep powerfully flexes under his fingers. It’s like she doesn’t even notice he’s holding onto her at all and it is with a great deal of buzzing trepidation that he realizes just how easily she could have overpowered and pinned him down. It wouldn’t have even been much of an accomplishment. Despite the biological advances he naturally possessed as a man, he never could have gone toe to toe with her and hoped to come out on top. 

He quickly yanks his hands away as if she’d scalded him, his breath coming out in a quick rush now. His cheeks feel like they’re positively blazing while he watches in dismay as she finishes off the rest of the wine before reaching for the decanter. This wasn’t so strange for her, in truth. Jeanne seemed to enjoy dropping some of the stuffy aristocratic manners she’d been raised on when she was with him and she could hold her alcohol perfectly well under normal circumstances. But he had no idea what effect that strange liquid was going to have on her, especially not when she’d consumed so much of it all at once. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of the unmistakable tendrils of arousal curling hot in his lower belly now. 

Practically shaking, Kaveh self consciously huddles into the corner of the booth and tries to get his bearings straight again. He’d known Jeanne was physically fit and strong, of course. It was a big part of the attraction, after all. But he hadn’t fully comprehended the actual differences in their strength, not like this. He’d never had it quite so poignantly displayed right in front of his very eyes before. 

And something told him he’d just made a grievous mistake when he decided to open up Pandora’s Box with that mysterious concoction. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thirty minutes later and Kaveh knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has indeed made a monumental mistake. 

Jeanne, to her credit, doesn’t appear to be drunk or even particularly tipsy for that matter — not the way he and many others get, at any rate. She was still a steady, unflappable presence sitting next to him in the booth, neither faltering in an intoxicated daze nor slurring her speech like most did when they were inebriated. By all accounts she seemed to be almost entirely sober. 

Except the way she looks over at him is so hungry and pointed that he feels vaguely like a cornered prey animal staring down a half starved beast. The change had come on gradually at first and then more quickly when whatever he’d slipped her really started to kick in. Now she looked like she was seconds away from pouncing on him right then and there, and he wasn’t so sure he would have had the strength of will to tell her no. 

If this was Rahid’s idea of ‘warming up’ with his wife Kaveh was going to have to have another long talk with him. 

In the here and now, he fumbles for something to say. Anything at all to diffuse the situation and give him a chance to figure out how to fix this newest screw up in his long list of a track record. It seemed that no matter what he did, he really just kept digging his grave deeper and deeper. 

“Are you alright, Jeanne? Y - you look thirsty. Why don’t I grab you some water?” 

He quickly stands, but Jeanne is just as quick to grab his wrist and tug him back down. Her fingers are reminiscent of iron manacles, and he rather helplessly collapses into the seat again. Surreptitiously glancing into her darkened expression, he decides that this would have been a rather terrifying experience had he not been so embarrassingly aroused by it. There was clearly something very wrong with him. 

“No water.” She murmurs, her voice noticeably huskier than usual. If he didn’t know any better he’d think it was the sultry, intimate tone she would use with a lover in their most private of moments, and that doesn’t do much to help him fight down the erection trying to spring up in his pants. He needed to think fast. 

“Alright. Can I … can I get you something else, then? Maybe something to eat? That might — it might absorb some of the … wine in your system.” 

Jeanne gives her head a slow shake, burgundy forelocks swaying gently with the motion. “No. I’m not hungry for food, but thank you.” 

Oh. 

Unsure what else to do, Kaveh lets out a threadbare little laugh. “Ah, I - I see. Then are you in the mood for something else? I can get you whatever you want. On me, of course.” 

It’s not like he had the extra money for that but it doesn’t really seem to matter. She only drops her gaze as if in thought, deeply considering something that only she was privy to in that moment. 

Those cool, sea-green eyes snap back up almost immediately though. 

With a single minded decisiveness that makes his heart lodge itself in his throat again, she nudges closer to him in the booth. Stammering, he quickly brings his open hands up to indicate surrender but she just reaches right past them to grab his chin without so much as pausing. Completely ignoring the surprised squawk he lets out, Jeanne rather demandingly angles his face up at her as she leans in, pressing her body right up against his side until he's practically pinned back into the seat. 

She looks like she’s about to devour him whole, her entire frame practically vibrating with the urge to act on whatever is going through her head, but she manages to stop at the last possible moment. Visibly holding herself in check she takes a deep, faltering breath and lets it out on a slow exhale, trying to regain her composure.  

“I’m not sure what's happening but … I think we need to leave.”

“A - are you alright?” 

“I don’t know. I just suddenly feel so damn hot.” She slowly shakes her head, clearly unable to make any sense of it. It is with a great deal of effort that she forces her fingers to unlatch from his chin and she stiffly returns to her side of the booth, panting softly under her breath. 

Kaveh can’t help the worried guilt that rushes over him as he takes in her new demeanor, the hunched set of her shoulders and the fine sheen of sweat starting to form across her face. If he didn’t know any better he’d think she was suddenly coming down with a cold. This was not at all what he’d expected to happen based on Rahid’s vague description but, well. She had consumed more than just a few drops worth. He just hoped it wasn’t making her sick. 

“It’s okay, Jeanne. Let me pay the tab and then we’ll get out of here,” He tells her, consolingly reaching over to place his hand across her back. “Your place is closer than mine so lets - -”

“No. I’ll pay.”

“But I already said it was my treat - -”

In lieu of a proper response, she merely reaches up lightning quick to snag his wrist and Kaveh can’t quite help the startled yelp he lets out in response. Unperturbed by his reaction, she stands up in a rush and half drags him after her. Another blinding, white hot surge shoots through his body at the demanding way she steers him out of the booth, stopping just long enough to snag her luggage up off the ground before making a beeline up to the front counter. He’s helpless to do anything but follow along right in tow when she’s got an ironclad hold on him like this, and Lambad sends them an odd look from behind the long bar at their approach. 

“Leaving so soon? It’s not even been two hours yet.”

“O - oh, you know,” Kaveh nervously laughs, scrambling for an excuse that wouldn’t sound as incriminating as the current scene looked, but Jeanne is quick to cut across him. 

“We might come back tomorrow. I’m not feeling very well, unfortunately.” That much is clear in the way she shivers just ever so slightly as she sets her suitcase back down so she can dig into her pocket. The fact she refused to let him go, as if she was worried about him making a break for it, is not lost on him but there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. 

A handful of mora is slapped down on the counter with enough force to make Kaveh wince and then she’s physically dragging him towards the exit. By the time they make it outside and step into the dense heat, Jeanne is full on panting like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and the two of them stumble to a halt just on the edge of the road. Realizing she was hardly in any condition to navigate the city streets on her own, the blond cautiously steps closer to put his uncaptured hand on her shoulder, hoping to steady her a little bit. 

“Here, let me lead the way. Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Maybe I should take you to a hospital …”

“No. That's not necessary.” She groans very softly, keeping her head hung forward so that her hair keeps her face mostly hidden from him. “Just want to go home. I think – I think I need to lie down for a while.” 

He was decidedly in agreement with that, so he gently coaxes her into motion until she at last gives in and shuffles after him on heavy feet. Luckily the house she rented year-round for her stays in Sumeru while on business was conveniently closer to the tavern than his old home would have been, so that saved him from having to break that particular news to her just yet. It was one of the very few breaks he seemed to be getting today. 

More importantly though he isn’t quite sure what to do with her in this state. She’d said she didn’t need a hospital but was she sure about that? Did she have the presence of mind to make those kinds of calls right now? In many ways this was the exact opposite of what he’d been hoping for. Instead of a clingy, affectionate Jeanne he’d gotten one who looked like she was either going to collapse or start retching everywhere. For all he was aware, she might even end up doing both and he had no clue how to handle any of it. 

But for once the gods seemed to be on his side because they eventually make it to her single sized home without incident and only a few curious stares from people wondering what was going on with the Fontainian woman. There was no telling what kind of rumors about them might be circulating around the city come morning but that was the least of his concerns. With her help, he manages to get the door unlocked and the two of them stumble inside. 

Immediately dropping her luggage, Jeanne moves to lean heavily against the wall while he gets the door closed. Even with her hair hanging forward he can still make out the furious flush that stains her cheeks and he cautiously approaches her, idly noting that when she was slumped like this they were at almost perfect eye level with one another. 

“Are you positive you don’t want me to fetch a doctor for you, Jeanne? I’m worried about you.” 

“Don’t be,” She insists, lifting a sluggish hand to vaguely wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine. I must have just drank too fast. I wasn’t expecting that brew to hit me so hard.” 

Deciding that was a major understatement, Kaveh reaches up to tug her coat off her shoulders. That probably wasn’t helping her current condition much, and it strikes him as oddly domestic. Like he was a housewife welcoming her hardworking husband home from a long day. 

His belly painfully clenches at the thought and, struggling to fight down the erection that tries to spring to life in his pants, he tosses her jacket on the nearby coat rack and then stiffly takes her by the shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you collapse on me.”

Much to his relief, she complies without a fuss and pushes off from the wall. Leaning into him for support, Jeanne allows Kaveh to guide her further into the house and down the hall. He’d only seen her bedroom once or twice before in passing, when he’d helped her with her luggage on previous trips, but this time there’s enough static tension hanging in the air that he can’t quite stamp down the mounting excitement in his lower body. It’s a shameful thing to realize his self control was this bad but he makes a valiant effort to keep it at bay while he gets her directed over to the waiting bed. 

“Here we are. Once you’re settled in I’ll go get you some water to drink.”

She doesn’t immediately sink onto the waiting mattress though. Even at his encouraging nudge, she just stands there breathing heavily, and he anxiously bends his head close to try and get a better look at her. 

“What’s wrong? Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” 

“No.” 

“Then why don’t you - -“ 

It happens much too fast for him to comprehend any of it. 

One moment he’s standing on his feet, helping Jeanne support her weight, and the next she’s flipped him forward to hit the bed, sprawled out on his back. Kaveh barely has enough time to draw a sharp gasp as he bounces once before she’s on top of him, pinning him down against the sheets. Staring up at her, he’s so surprised in the aftermath of that sudden rush that he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to do anything else but gape at her. 

What in the seven hells was happening now? 

“Kaveh,” 

He gives a slight jolt. “O - oh. Yes – yes, Jeanne?” 

“I’m going to kiss you.” She announces with so little fanfare that he very nearly does a double take. 

“W - wha —“

“Kaveh,” She cuts across him, the strict command in her tone making the blond obediently snap his mouth shut. Apparently satisfied with that, she goes on. “I’ve thought about doing this for a while now. Quite a while, in fact. I’m not sure what was in that vial but I want you far too much right now to deny it any longer. I won’t force myself on you though, so speak up if you don’t want it. This is your chance to reject my advances. If you don’t take it I’m going to kiss you.” 

His eyes grow so impossibly wide it looks like they just might fall right out of his head and go rolling off across the floor, and with it comes a sudden realization. What Rahid had said about that pink concoction. He’d never come right out with it but he also hadn’t stated that it would make her drunk either. That had been his own jump to conclusions on the matter. What he’d told Kaveh was that it would warm her up and that he used it with his wife in their old age. He’d said it would give him plenty of time to prove to Jeanne that he was serious about wanting to pursue her. It wasn’t an elixir for drunkards, it was an intimacy potion! 

Kaveh’s brain stumbles over that thought, hardly even daring to believe it, but the proof was looming over him with a hungry, voracious look of wanting darkening her face. That explained everything. Why she was so short of breath and her skin flushed with perspiration. He’d thought she was feeling ill after ingesting all that wine on top of the mystery fluid but clearly that was not the case. She was so worked up because she was indescribably aroused. 

And he was the sole focus of all her attention? 

The poor architect very nearly faints dead away on the spot. 

Desperately groping for some semblance of a hold on his composure though, he starts to open his mouth. He’d wanted to tell her he would rather talk this out instead of making any rash decisions when she was so obviously under the influence and her judgment was clouded, but his silence must have stretched on for much too long at that point. Because Jeanne abruptly swoops in and he just manages to suck in a surprised gasp before her lips crash into his. He violently jerks as if she’d electrocuted him but, in truth, she doesn’t even seem to notice it. She’s much too busy trying to devour him, claiming his mouth and dominating the kiss before he even has a chance to try and take the upper hand for himself. Like her role of total power and control in their dynamic was already a foregone conclusion. 

Hell, maybe it was. 

In a truly dizzying rush, white hot static surges through his system with all the subtlety of a powerful explosive going off and Kaveh instantly gives over to the intense, bone rattling yearning he harbors for her. Tipping his head, he hungrily kisses her back, softly groaning into her mouth. His lips tremble under the demanding push and pull of hers even as he instinctively brings his arms up to wrap them around her shoulders, clinging to her while his long fingers dig into the soft fabric of her blouse. Noising a brief sound of approval, rewarding him for his eager response, she gives his bottom lip a taunting bite before lowering herself to languorously stretch out on top of him.

There really isn’t much difference in their builds, he suddenly realizes with her body pressed up tight against his like that. They were almost the same height and her shoulders not much wider despite the obvious strength residing in them. In truth, they probably would’ve been just about evenly matched if only Kaveh had taken Al-Haitham’s advice and he’d spent a bit more time exercising his muscles instead of hunching over his drawing table late into the night on various projects. Not that it really mattered now, at this crucial juncture. It was clear he’d be no match for her in his current state even if he’d wanted to fight and wrestle with her for dominance. 

He doesn’t, though. He really, really doesn’t want to pretend to be something or someone he’s not, especially when Jeanne herself never made any qualms about who she was either. This was in many ways exactly what he’d been dreaming of. To have her on top of him, pinning him down and taking whatever she wanted from him, so he happily surrenders, all but melting against her and letting her set the pace however she saw fit. 

And she doesn’t hesitate to do so, either by virtue of her proud, natural inclination for being in control or perhaps it was just in response to his submissive body language. Where once they’d barely touched each other beyond an occasional friendly brush of their hands, Jeanne now shamelessly presses herself flush against him like her claim on the blond man was already a bygone matter of fact. It was as if every single one of his shameful fantasies was coming to life in real time and he almost chokes on the boiling rush of emotion that swells in his chest. 

A pathetically small whimper escapes him and in response the hand that had come up to possessively wrap around his throat relaxes before falling away altogether, sliding up to cup his cheek instead. Her fingers are feminine and dainty yet rough with worn callouses. The grip she usually used for holding her sword is especially powerful, and it has him shuddering against her as blunt nails dig in just enough for him to feel the pinprick, drawing another muffled gasp out of him. But she quickly releases his face in favor of reaching further back to sink her fingers into his hair. Closing her fist at the back of his head, Jeanne gives it an experimental yet no less insistent tug that has his lips warbling open with an accompanying mewl. 

To his groaning surprise, she doesn’t hesitate to take this chance and she plunges her tongue into Kaveh’s mouth to suggestively caress over his in a long, wet swipe and savor the taste of him on her palette. The buzzing daze that encompasses him only grows stronger still and he feels downright delirious even as he dips his head back against the sheets to better accept her conquest of him. 

She's quick to pull away though, leaving him sprawled out and panting underneath her. Issuing a faint groan of disappointment at the loss, he cracks his eyes open to peer up into her face. 

He’s only slightly surprised to find Jeanne’s breath is coming even quicker than before, her cheeks flushed hot in what he now recognized as eager excitement, but somehow she still didn’t look half as worked up as he felt. It probably would have made him laugh, if only he’d had the extra oxygen to do so. Even when that blasted potion was wreaking havoc on her self control she still managed to keep some hold on her composure. It was in many ways astounding. 

“You … you didn’t have to stop.” 

A quietly strained laugh rises in her throat, soft and husky, to accompany the slow lift at the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh, is that so? What an unexpected surprise this is turning out to be.” She murmurs, uncharacteristically doting in the way she speaks to him now. Looking confident and svelte in her eager glow, she pushes up to get a better look at him. “I must admit, there was a very real part of me that hoped things would turn out this way eventually. I didn’t want to approach you with unwarranted expectations though. We’ve already danced around each other for far too long for me to start making assumptions now, wouldn’t you agree? But I suppose I had nothing to be worried about this entire time. You’re a good boy, aren’t you Kaveh?” 

His throat cinches shut, making him cough around the startled sound that materializes from his mouth unbidden. She doesn’t seem to pay it much mind though, shifting her weight more to the side so she can glance down the length of his body with a pointed look. Obediently, and not knowing what else to do, Kaveh hesitantly tears his eyes from her face and follows suit. 

The straining tent in the front of his pants comes as more of a shock to him than it does her. She’d probably felt it as soon as she’d flattened herself to the front of him but that doesn’t stop Kaveh from sucking in a sharp, deeply embarrassed gasp. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire as he shyly draws his knees together in an attempt to conceal his arousal from her but it’s no use. He’s much too hard, and the tent remains. The sharp sting of humiliation almost brings tears to his eyes, and he whimpers softly in his distress. Not only was this unbelievably shameful but he also feared the possibility that she might dismiss him from her presence because of it. This wasn’t exactly the kind of overly enthusiastic reaction most women would want out of their potential partners, was it? 

But Jeanne, evidently, is not most women. She practically purrs, in fact, when she brings her hand down to gently trace the center line of his chest, down over his nervously flexing stomach and even further than that to finally reach the jutted bulge between his legs. Possessively, she curls her fingers around it and palms him with a subdued, taunting squeeze. He almost sobs right then and there, whining softly at the first glorious touch of her hand on him. 

He’d been anticipating this for so long, dreaming and fantasizing about what this exact moment might look like, and he was ashamed to realize how dangerously close he already was to busting in his pants. This was the effect Jeanne had on him. This is what she turned him into. 

“My, you’re certainly excited aren’t you? And to think, I hesitated so much for fear that you might not reciprocate my interest …”

“P - please,” 

“Hush, Kaveh. Now that I’ve finally got you in my bed I won’t be letting you go anytime soon. You’re going to be good and do exactly as I say, aren’t you?” 

He quickly nods, swallowing so hard it almost makes him gag. “Yes. Yes, ma’am. I will. Anything.” 

Jeanne draws a slow, carefully controlled breath in response even as a distant shudder of anticipation wracks through her. “Ooh, look at you. Already so eager to please me. Is it possible you’ve also thought about this before?”

At his needy little whimper she offers another soft, velvety laugh that rushes straight to his cock, making it twitch in her hold. He’s so hard it almost hurts but he can’t quite bring himself to complain about that right now. Not when she was holding him like that and he could still taste the glorious flavor of her mouth on his tongue. So out of his mind with sharp tinged arousal, all he can do is offer up a faltering moan to accompany the dazed nod of his head. 

“I see. Then we are both fools, aren’t we? But are you certain you want to do this, Kaveh? I’m not the type of passive woman who will just indulge you long enough to get you off. If I’m to have you then I’ll have all of you.”  

He quietly seethes at the suggestion of what she was saying. It made it sound like he was some kind of honorable maiden about to be bedded by a chivalrous knight of the court, and the way his cock jumps in her hand makes it quite clear just how much he liked that idea. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced and yet so deeply attractive that he wasn’t so sure he would’ve been able to reject anything at all she asked of him from here on out. She could have told him to go jump off the highest point of the Akademiya’s tallest spire and he wouldn’t have given it another thought. 

“I … gods, I think I’d be mad if you didn’t at this point. Please, Jeanne. I’m yours, however you want me.” 

Humming a brief sound of approval, she gives his straining erection one last, lingering squeeze before dragging her hand up to fiddle with the brooch that holds his mantle in place over his shoulders. While she works on that, she leans close again and brushes a teasing, featherlight kiss over his lips. Struggling to keep his breath evened out, Kaveh needily kisses her back but no amount of desperation on his part manages to prepare him for when she abruptly sits upright and throws one leg over his middle without any further buildup to that pivotal moment. 

Settling on top of him, she shoots him a sly little smile even as she reaches down to take his slack wrists in her hands. Folding them up above his head, she pins them down to the bed with her weight before hunching close again so she can claim his mouth the way he’d been hoping she would. Jeanne’s hunger is obvious in the way she kisses him as if she were trying to consume his very life force, and in the way she not so subtly grinds her pelvis against him. Even through the many layers of clothes still separating them he can feel the intense heat radiating out from between her legs, and he issues a soft whine when his balls draw up in warning. 

This wasn’t good. If he shot off in his pants before she even properly touched him skin to skin, he was never going to forgive himself. She may not have been very put off by his other shortcomings but he had a feeling this was one she wouldn’t be quite as willing to overlook. 

So with a great deal of effort he tears his mouth from hers, sucking in a ragged breath. “Nghn, J - Jeanne … I might - -“

She unexpectedly shoves her face into the line of his neck, nipping at his pulse, and he physically shakes straight down to his toes. This was exactly what he’d thought about doing to her back at the tavern and the irony of that isn’t lost on him. Having the roles reversed so completely, being on the receiving end of such amorous attention … 

“Ooh, I think — I might need a moment, please.” 

“Aww, what’s the matter, Kaveh? Do you already feel like you’re going to cum for me?” She purrs against his skin, laughing softly when he trembles so violently in response the bed distantly rattles. “Don’t worry. I know exactly how to get you ready for another round if I need to, so there’s nothing to fret about. You’re in good hands, I promise.” 

“W - what does that mean?” He squeaks, unable to keep the nervous trepidation out of his voice. 

Ignoring the question, Jeanne sits up on his stomach and lifts her hands to make quick work of her red tie, her finely made courtiers jacket and then her blouse which she practically rips off in her rush to get undressed. Kaveh, feeling unexpectedly scandalized by the unprecedented strips of creamy flesh being revealed to him, almost brings his hands up to shyly cover his face. He can’t quite rip his eyes away though and he outright stares at the full cups of her satiny brassiere in something not unlike disbelief. He’d never been so blessed with a more tantalizing, beautiful sight in all his life. 

“Now it’s your turn.” She murmurs, hungrily licking her lips as she sets her sights on the sash at the front of his waist. Giving it a good tug is all it takes to have it loosened and then she’s flipping the bottom of his flouncy shirt out of the way so she can get at his pants. 

Kaveh starts to protest, wanting to ask her to at least slow down, but a quick look at Jeanne’s expression makes him think better of it. She was going to chew him up and spit him out one way or another, there probably wasn’t any point in stalling the inevitable. 

Clenching his hands into tight fists, he simply watches as she gets his slacks unfastened and then roughly yanks them down. A soft whimper rises in his throat but she pays it little mind, much too focused on getting them yanked off right along with his shoes. She doesn’t hesitate to come back for his underwear and his cock is soon springing up to arc through the air with a rigid bounce, making him hiss at the sensation as much as at being suddenly exposed. Feeling rather self conscious of his sudden nudity, he snaps his attention up to fretfully gauge her reaction. 

The pleased smile that slowly pulls at her mouth catches him off guard, and he nervously fidgets under the watchful spotlight of her attention. 

“Well, Kaveh, I must say you’ve got a rather pretty cock, don’t you? I expected as much given how lovely you are in the face, but …” 

Eagerly, Jeanne reaches out to wrap her fingers around him and he jolts at the abrupt contact, teeth clenching in an attempt to stave off his impending release. She hadn’t seemed worried about it but he really had no idea what she’d meant by knowing how to get him ready for another round. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out. 

“Mm, and you’re sensitive too. How delightful. I wonder what would happen if I just …” 

With a tauntingly slow motion of her hand, she tugs up on his cock and drags her hand from about mid shaft up to the head. Kaveh gives a full bodied, lurching jerk in response, letting out a gutted moan when her fist makes the foreskin bunch over his tender glans. He clenches his toes so hard it actually hurts, desperately trying to will his orgasm away, but if she felt any sympathy for him she certainly doesn’t show it. She simply pulls her fist down, retracing the path she’d already taken once, and he outright chokes when it draws the skin back from the glans entirely with a sticky wet click. 

“Oh my,” She breathes out, sounding a little surprised and a lot excited. “That’s quite a lot of precum, isn’t it? You must have really wanted this bad.” 

“I - I’m sorry,” He whimpers, his flat stomach dramatically flexing under the tension. “I can’t — I don’t think I can hold it …” 

“Is that so? And if I tell you I’ll give you a reward?” He shoots her a harried look of confusion and Jeanne smiles rather magnanimously in return. “If you can avoid cumming for the next five minutes, I’ll treat you to something really nice. How does that sound, hm?”

Archons above, she was trying to kill him! 

At his helplessly weak nod, she offers a quiet sound of approval and an encouraging squeeze to his shaft. His hips fruitlessly buck under the sensation but he quickly stills them again when she starts to drag her hand back up at a painfully sedate pace, caressing him in torturous slow motion. Full on wheezing, Kaveh screws his eyes shut and forces himself to stay still even when his muscles start to vibrate with the intense urge to give in. To follow after her grip and thrust into her fingers, to let loose and spasm for all he was worth. Even putting aside the reward she’d mentioned, he just didn’t want to disappoint her. 

So he simply lies there and takes it while she jerks him off at such a staggered, halting pace he really feels like he just might go mad. It was hard just to breathe around it let alone think, and as a result the only thing he can do is focus his cotton stuffed head on not cumming. He repeats it again and again, like a lifesaving mantra, but he’s so close that it feels like a lost cause. His balls are heavy and they ache fiercely where they’re drawn up tight against his scrotum, so close to shooting off but forced to hold back. This was hell. Glorious, mind numbing hell and it existed squarely within the confines of this bed. 

“Such a good boy you are,” She coos another moment later, making him heave and desperately arch up off the bed at the inviting sound of her voice. His narrow, shaking hips are the only part of him that stays rooted to the mattress while the rest of him desperately twists with back bending need, grunting at the effort of trying to stave off his release. “You’re doing so well for me. I can tell how close you are. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just let go and - -“ 

Cutting her off with a strangled, partially horrified moan, Kaveh can’t stop himself from thrusting up into her grip any longer and he does so with such force it makes something in his lower spine pop. That’s all it takes, just that one hurried rush of movement, and his cock pitifully erupts in a sudden stream of milky white discharge. He cums with a hardly dignified sound, gutted and elated in equal measure. Spurt after spurt, it just keeps coming to paint her knuckles white and stain the bottom of his loose fitted shirt, until finally it runs dry with one last aching twitch that leaves him desperately wheezing. 

“Oh, god!” Bonelessly, Kaveh collapses back into the bed, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. It takes him a prolonged moment to get his bearings straight, or at least enough to comprehend that he was still alive and Jeanne was very much not a figment of his imagination, and he slowly lifts his head to glance down at her. 

Smiling slyly, she rather daintily releases his cock and holds her hand up to show off the incriminating evidence coating her hand. “I’m afraid you only lasted about two minutes and thirty seconds but …” 

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” He says in a rush, but she continues on as if he hadn’t even spoken. 

“I’ll admit that was still longer than I thought you’d manage to pull off. With the way you were acting, I’d half expected you to lose it in under a minute.”

Practically withering in shame, Kaveh shyly draws his knees together but Jeanne is quick to palm his legs apart again. A soft whimper escapes him at the sticky smear she leaves along his thigh, like a reminder of his failure. This was not quite how he’d envisioned this unfolding. 

“Don’t fret, now. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? Besides,”

Peeking up at the pointed tone in her voice, the blond warily follows her line of sight down to his groin and a soft mewl escapes him at the sight of his cock, still half hard and stirring with interest. He’d cum so hard he almost felt numb from the waist down now but there was no getting around what he was looking at. It wasn’t going to take much to have him at full strength again. That much was obvious. 

“I can go again,” He quickly stammers before she can jump into action and take care of it for him. “I’m sure I’ll last longer this time too. But you should — you should really let me take care of you first. I promise I’m good with my mouth.”

“I’m sure you are.” She agrees, smiling at him like she knew he was stalling for time and she thought it was cute. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. You’re going to take care of me another way, Kaveh.” 

Pulling back from him completely, Jeanne takes a moment to withdraw a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers with her unsoiled hand and she uses it to wipe the cum off the other. Carelessly tossing it aside, she then sets her hands to work on her pants and he tenderly winces when his spent cock bobs with growing excitement at the implication of what was to come. She genuinely was trying to kill him, he decides. And she was doing a spectacular job of it so far. 

“Be a good boy and take off the rest of your clothes for me, hm?” 

It takes everything Kaveh has not to outright sob as he obediently sits up and starts tugging off his shirt. Soon the both of them are completely naked, save the sleek black bra Jeanne leaves on for the time being, and he self consciously brings his arms up to wrap them around his chest when she returns to him on the bed. He feels more than a little foolish for it, like some awkward maiden that wasn’t used to being seen in such a vulnerable state — and, really, that actually wasn’t far from the truth — but she doesn’t seem to be half as disappointed by that as he may have once feared she would be. 

If anything, Jeanne actually looks quite pleased with the blond in her bed, and she reaches out to gently take his shoulders once she’s kneeling next to him. “Lay down?” 

He complies, eager pinpricks erupting along his skin where her hands touch him. Of course he’d known he was pathetically, regrettably weak for her long before this, but looking up at her now he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she really was the one for him. Who else could even compare? No one was as strong as Jeanne, nor as pretty. No other woman came from a background of aristocratic opulence while behaving like she did. She was — everything, wasn’t she? 

“Good. Now, be good for me and let me have my fun, okay?” 

Swallowing his nerves down, Kaveh offers a single nod and Jeanne coos at him very softly in response, assuring him that he was making the right choice for once in his life. Bracing her hands against his narrow chest, she confidently throws her leg over his middle again but this time she keeps her pelvis angled up rather than immediately settling on top of him. He feels downright hysterical when she reaches for his cock and possessively wraps her fingers around it. Despite the fact he was still recovering from his first orgasm, it immediately flexes in her hold to stand at attention. Obedient and loyal, just like his heart was, apparently. 

He seethes softly under his breath at the ache in his overwrought loins but doesn’t try to fight it as she angles him towards her cunt and the glorious thatch of red hair there, a shade darker than that on her head. A vague sense of panic does make his chest expand with a sharp gasp though, and he fumbles his hands down to grab hold of her hips. So soft and womanly under his fingers, yet indescribably powerful when they flex with the motion of lowering herself onto him. 

Truthfully Kaveh hadn’t thought it was possible to get any more worked up then he already was, yet the first silky soft brush of her wet lips against his glans has him feeling dangerously close to passing out. Contrary to his earlier statement, he was not going to last any longer than he had the first time. 

“W - wait —“ 

“Are you nervous, Kaveh?” She laughs, the sound so inviting and teasing it very nearly has him going cross eyed with the intense surge of fresh arousal that sparks in him. “Don’t overthink it. Just lie back, relax and let me have my fun, hm? You want to please me, don’t you?” 

“Ahh … y - yes, ma’am. I do.” 

Breathing out a clipped, anticipatory sigh, Jeanne sedately drags him back and forth through the wet folds and creases of her cunt, ensuring that he was nice and sticky too. Not that he thought he needed it when she already felt like she was soaked so penetration was sure to be a nonissue, but it certainly felt good. Heavenly, actually. 

Fingers sinking into the soft give of her hips, he silently pleads with any god willing to listen for his stamina not to give out at the worst possible time. 

Another anticipatory moment later, she finally angles him back towards her entrance and starts to sink the rest of the way down. The blinding rush of heat that all at once envelops him damn near sends him careening over the edge right then and there, but he valiantly holds it back with a sobbing little hiss. Clutches at her like his life depended on it, and it very well might, while Jeanne gradually takes him deeper and deeper into her body one inch at a time. Just as he’d suspected, she was already perfectly lubricated and he gives a powerless curse under his breath, stealing a harried glance between them to watch her swallow him down to the base. Her thick curls are a poignant contrast to his coarser, ashen brown ones, but they look right at home mingling together like that. 

“Bless the seven - -!”

“Mmnn, you feel so good, Kaveh. You’re just where I want you to be.” Giving a taunting wriggle of her hips to make him sensitively wince, Jeanne reaches for one of his hands. Slides it around to the front of her abdomen and presses down on a certain spot along her lower stomach. “Right there. Can you feel it? That’s how deep you are.” 

The wordless noise he lets out is rife with distress, and he sucks in a horribly frazzled breath in an attempt to steady his nerves a little bit. She just laughs though, another soft, liltingly husky sound that makes him want to cry out. 

And he does, mewling a huffy noise into the statically charged air when she leans forward to square her balance in the center, on her toes and with her hands palming his chest. She starts to move then, keeping her motions short and experimental at first while she gets a better feel for him and how he hits her most pleasure inducing spots. It doesn’t take long for her to pick up the pace though and she begins to bounce in earnest, taking him in long, drawn out plunges now. 

Flicking her long braid over her shoulder mid bounce, Jeanne pins him with a salacious grin. “Yeah, right there. You’ve got it. Ahhn, you’re such a good boy for me. You’d better not, nghn, bust as quickly as the first time. Not before I get mine.” 

“J - Jeanne —“ 

He sounds incredibly whiny even to his own ears but he can’t help it. Not when he could feel his cock throbbing inside her, still tender from getting hard again much too soon after already cumming once, and she didn’t seem to care. She was clearly much more concerned with her own pleasure now, enthusiastically chasing that gratification on top of him, but that just seems to ratchet his own excitement up even further. The more she took from him the more he wanted to give, the higher his arousal seemed to climb. 

It is with no shortage of horror that Kaveh realizes he’s going to cum again, not because she was riding him so expertly, but because she was using him for her own pleasure and that was getting him off more than anything. Even in all his fantasies and wistful daydreams, he’d never imagined that having her treat his cock like her own personal toy would turn him on quite this much. 

“Oh! Shit! I - if you don’t slow down, Jeanne, I’m - -“ 

Her hips start to come down faster, harder in response, and the sharp slap of skin meeting skin rises louder in the air. He practically chokes on it, squirming underneath her as every muscle in his body rapidly tenses up in preparation to blow another load and simultaneously to try and stave it off. It wasn’t just overwhelming, it was downright mind numbing, and he pathetically whimpers even as his eyes start to roll back in his head. 

Too much. It was too much. 

“Please — please —“ He’s babbling, his mouth running on autopilot now, but still she doesn’t seem to care. 

His cock was hers to use however she saw fit and it was clear she wanted it thrusting deep into her guts right now. It feels like every ounce of blood in his body rushes down to his groin all at once, making it swell to uncomfortable proportions as his balls tightly draw up again. He tries to hold back, really, but it’s all too much for him to bear. The wet warmth of her body gripping him like a vice, the breathy sounds that slip from her mouth and the all encompassing smell of her cloying on the back of his tongue. He was powerless before it. 

And he cums again, just like that. His strangled, frantic moan is high pitched and bordering on frantic as he shoots off inside her but even then she just keeps going. Even when his cock finishes spraying her inner sleeve with white, creamy clumps, she just keeps riding him. The only response he gets that indicates she’s even aware of it happening is a low, huffy groan in the back of her throat but it doesn’t so much as make her pause. 

His hands practically cramp up from how hard he’s clutching at her, roughly sucking in a series of wet, faltering breaths. His body can’t take it when every conceivable inch of him was painfully throbbing in protest at the continuous stimulation. The sensation is sharp and stabbing, and he finally throws his head back against the sheets to helplessly wail up at the ceiling. 

“Oh, Kaveh,” She finally murmurs another moment later. “Are you crying?”

His eyes snap open so suddenly it takes them a heartbeat or two to catch up and make any sense of the visual input. Just in time to watch Jeanne lean over him, getting close to his face and alternating her previous bouncing motion to a slower, more savory grind that makes him wince in his oversensitized state. She doesn’t seem to pay it any mind though, her teal eyes taking in his face with obvious delight. 

“You poor thing,” Breathing out softly, she slides one hand up from his chest, over his neck and higher still to cup his cheek. “You really are tender, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting to make you cry until at least the third round.” 

Kaveh’s taxed heart nearly gives out right then and there. “T - third round? You … you can’t be serious - -“

“I’m very serious, I’m afraid. I’m not sure what else you expected when you gave me an aphrodisiac though. Don’t tell me you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?” 

“Aph - wait, you knew?” 

“Well, I didn’t at the time but I’ve certainly figured it out by now. In all honesty, I picked up very early on that you were acting rather strange today but I hadn’t expected you to go to such lengths just to get me into bed. All you’d had to do was ask, you know.” 

He just gapes up at her, big, wet glistening tears beading along his lash line to make them clump together. What she was saying wasn’t just inconceivable, it didn’t make any sense! If she’d suspected something amiss, if she’d had any doubts about his intentions then …

His eyes suddenly go big and round. “You — that’s what you meant earlier … about unwarranted expectations?”

She smiles at him, a vaguely mischievous, sly little smile, and exhales a savory sigh. “Yeah, but I’d say that’s a moot point now, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve already made you cry so …” Closing the distance, Jeanne’s tongue flicks out to lap up a salty tear from his cheek and he startles like she’d shocked him. That only makes her laugh though, and she pulls back to sit upright again so she can reach behind her to unclasp the hooks on her bra. “Let’s continue, shall we? I’ve got something special in mind for that overly eager cock of yours.” 

Satiny cups fall away, revealing her bare breasts to him at long last, and Kaveh sucks in such a harsh, flustered gasp it almost sounds like he’s choking. Pleased with his reaction, she tosses the garment aside and then much to his slack jawed surprise, she moves to dismount from him. His spent cock slips free humiliatingly fast and wetly flops down to rest across his lower belly, completely soft now. 

Self consciously, Kaveh reaches down to gingerly cover himself from her scrutiny but she merely turns to climb down off the bed as if it were none of her concern. Maybe it wasn’t, and he practically withers at the thought. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me.” She says, not bothering to look back at him while she tugs open a drawer on the nightstand. 

“Please, Jeanne, I don’t think I can handle another round so soon.” He groans, even as he slowly pushes himself up to sit. It wasn’t just his cock that felt sore and achy, his entire body hurt at this point. “If you just give me, I don’t know, an hour, I’m sure we’ll have much better results.” 

“You really expect me to wait that long?” 

“W - well, no, but - -“

“Hands and knees, Kaveh. Now.” 

Whimpering softly, he does as he’s been told and turns over to assume the position. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, she had in store for him but there were certainly a few sinking suspicions running through his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for any of them. Mentally or physically, it seemed he really had bitten off more than he could conceivably chew. 

She soon returns to him, evidently having found what she was looking for and crawling up onto the bed to kneel just behind him. He can’t quite bring himself to look back at her, a little too embarrassed by everything that has already happened here today as much as the unseemly pose he was currently in to face her head on. He was also more than a bit nervous too, and he decidedly did not want her to see that reflecting back at her in his expression. Sure, Kaveh may have been fruitlessly grasping at straws here, but he was dead set on preserving whatever minuscule amount of his pride he still had left. 

Which was decidedly not much at all. 

“Relax for me. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I know that …” 

But did he really, though? He trusted her, yes, but there was a very real part of him that didn’t know what to expect in the coming moments and that made him understandably a bit jittery. 

That fact is very poignantly highlighted when she touches him, placing her hand along his lower back, and he jolts so hard he nearly comes right up off the bed. Chuckling softly at the reaction, Jeanne rubs comforting, coaxing circles into his skin as if she were encouraging an overly skittish pup to settle down. 

“So jumpy. Have I actually done anything to make you this nervous yet?” 

He grumbles a low, noncommittal sound, not entirely sure he trusted himself to speak when he was as naked as the day he was born and spread out on her bed on full display. His reticence quickly proves to be a moot point though, because when she drags her hand down to the cleft where his ass starts, he outright yelps in surprise. 

“Wait - -“ 

“Unfortunately I don’t have the time or the patience for that right now. You said you were going to be a good boy for me, didn’t you?” 

“ I — I did, but …” 

“Then do as I say and relax. I promise you aren’t going to hate this half as much as you think you will.” 

Groaning softly, Kaveh hangs his head in a clear sign of defeat and Jeanne takes that chance to readjust her position behind him, settling directly between his knees now. Both of her hands come up to cup his cheeks, giving them each a savory, appreciative squeeze, and he mewls very quietly when she spreads them apart. His face positively blazes with the knowledge that she was looking at his most private areas uninterrupted and he restlessly fidgets as a result. 

He feels her lean close then and he braces himself — for what, he isn’t sure, but it’s certainly not the wet swipe of her tongue across the tight pucker of his asshole. The sensation is unmistakable and jarring, and he instinctively tries to shy away from it with a frazzled yelp. 

“Jeanne!” He shrills, further embarrassing himself with the high pitch of his voice. 

“Goodness, you really are like an innocent virgin, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t exactly have a comeback for that, not when he was certainly acting like one, so he just settles on a vague sound of disagreement. 

Chuckling, she leans into him again and, now that he actually knows what’s coming, he clenches his teeth to stay any of the humiliating sounds that rise in his chest at the next swipe of her tongue. It’s a bit less shocking this time but no less confusing when he can’t make any sense of why she would be doing this. Surely she wasn’t … she didn’t plan to - -

“Don’t tense up so much,” She murmurs against him, warm breath fanning over his skin and tickling the sticky wrinkle of his hole. He feels a slight twitch in his groin in response to the featherlight sensation but it’s not near enough to have him springing back up to full attention again. 

So he simply takes it with as much grace as he possibly can, passively letting her lap at him without protest until he can eventually feel the tight rim start to puff up under her ministrations. The muscle was slackening and giving way, allowing her more freedom to poke and prod at the center to tease the suggestion of penetration. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that or any of this, but he doesn’t protest even when she seals her mouth around him and gently starts to suckle. Now he felt overwhelmed in a completely different way than before, and he wheezes quietly under his breath. This was unfamiliar territory for him, completely uncharted, but it is his implicit trust in Jeanne that keeps him from bolting like a frightened rabbit. 

And just like the easily frightened hare, he all but quails when she finally pulls back some moments later to fiddle with something behind him. He didn’t want to look, couldn’t bring himself to look, but he quickly figures out what she’s up to when her fingers come up to touch him and they’re unnaturally sticky with grease, genuine surprise making his heart stutter a beat. 

Dear god, she was really going to do this! 

“Ah, J - Jeanne, are you sure that’s - -“ 

She carefully pushes, dipping one digit just inside the tight ring of muscle without stopping long enough to hear him out, and he instantly blurts out a wordless sound of startled shock. Unable to stop himself anymore, he snaps his head around to peer over his shoulder at her but she just offers up a vaguely conspiratorial smile. 

“You’re tensing up again.” 

“Well, can you really blame me!” 

“No, not really. But trust me, you’ll find you’re much more keen here in just a moment.” 

He doesn’t believe that. He doesn’t believe that at all, not when his hole was weakly pulsing around the intrusion in a way that made him feel panicky and trapped, and that was to say absolutely nothing of the sharply felt pangs of embarrassment he could feel creeping up his neck. 

But then she pushes in a little deeper, slipping in down to the second joint, and his entire body seizes in response, igniting a red hot, tingling sensation low in his gut. His mouth drops open in surprise but nothing comes out, his chest rapidly contracting with the quick gasps he pulls in. It still didn’t exactly feel good, or at least he’s pretty sure it doesn’t, but he felt … something from it. Something that takes his breath away and threatens to suffocate him. He’d never been penetrated like this before but to have Jeanne doing it, carefully fingering his body open, it occurred to him much too late that she was probably right. He probably was going to like this if she was the one doing it. 

“Oh, oh, oh,” He wheezes, fighting the instinctive urge to pull away when she just keeps going, dipping her finger further in until he feels the obvious press of her knuckle flush against his hole. Swaying unsteadily on his hands and knees, he frantically gropes for his frazzled thoughts for something to say. “That’s — hold on, please, just … take it slow, okay?” 

“Didn’t I already tell you I don’t have time for that, Kaveh? You’re going to take what I give you however I see fit to give it. Do you understand?” 

Not waiting for him to respond (as if he even could respond to that), Jeanne angles her finger down and gently massages along his inner wall. The sensation is strange and he still can’t quite decide if it was pleasurable or not, so he just squirms in place while she feels along his guts. At least it didn’t hurt. That seems to be his one and only consolation in this confusing situation he’s gotten himself in, and for that he was thankful. 

“Ah,” She suddenly blurts. “Found it.” 

He almost finds himself asking what it is she’s found in his ass of all places but he doesn’t quite make it any farther than opening his mouth. She abruptly angles that insidious digit downward, digging into his interior wall, and a shock of static electricity immediately shoots through his entire system with enough force to damn near bowl him right over. He comes very close to full on wailing in response even as his hips subconsciously buck under the pressure and his cock gives a distant, muted twitch. 

Icy fear promptly races down his spine. No. No, it couldn’t be — 

She repeats the motion, massaging down into that unimaginably sensitive bundle of nerves with a forceful curl of her finger, and his knees almost give out in response. He understood now what it was she wanted but he was helpless to stop it at this point, outright sobbing while she expertly turned his own body against him. No matter how much he tries to fight it or will it away, his cock was slowly coming back to life with each twist of her hand even when it hurt to do so. He was still much too sore after two consecutive orgasms but even through the discomfort he still gradually starts to harden again. 

Left with no other choice, Kaveh finally allows his upper body to sink down onto the bed where he folds his arms and buries his face in their protective cradle. He’d never be able to look Jeanne in the face after this. It had already started off bad enough when he’d shot his load in under four minutes but it had only continued to get worse from there, and now she was fingering his asshole to coax yet another erection out of him. 

Somehow it doesn’t even come as a surprise when the tears start up again. 

“There you go. Just look at you.” She murmurs approvingly some odd minutes later when his cock has finally finished filling out and it was now a heavy, hanging weight between his legs. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even think you’ve gone one round yet.” 

“Nnghnoogh, please, Jeanne. This is hardly, aghhn, the time for jokes.” 

“You’re right. Well, let’s get you fitted then.”

Kaveh blinks through the tears, wondering what she was talking about now, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. She starts to slowly pull her finger out without any further warning and he whines at the resulting drag against his guts when the muscle tries to cling to her on the way out. It’s like she doesn’t even notice though, or perhaps she doesn’t care, and she slips free with a tiny little slurp from his clenching entrance. Physically cringing at the sound, he shoves his face further into the comfort of his arms and tries very hard not to sob. 

He can hear her fiddling with something behind him but he’s a little too far gone to wonder about what the next trial might be. He’d find out sooner or later anyway, and in this case it turns out to be quite soon. 

Carefully, her hands slip something over his rigid cock and draws it up to the base. It feels vaguely like leather, and that thought is quickly solidified in his mind when she tightens it until the material cinches around him in a tight squeeze that is resoundingly uncomfortable on his already nerve sensitive skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, Kaveh shoves himself up on his elbows so he can peer down at himself. Sure enough, the black thong secured around his scrotum is obvious and speaks for itself. The message was clear. If he couldn’t control himself enough to hold back his orgasms until she was satisfied then she’d help him out. Give him a nudge in the right direction. 

He absolutely hated how familiar that sentiment sounded. 

“You can’t — you can’t do that, Jeanne! It’s too tight and … that’s not fair, is it? I could have used my mouth.” 

“Ooh, are you whining, Kaveh? Such a sad little thing you are. Unfortunately it’s not your mouth I want right now though.” Rising up, she leans over him so she can press herself flush along his back. Her hand comes around to curl under his chin and manually turn his face up at her, and he offers her a tiny little sniffle to go with the puppy eyed face he makes. “What I want is that pretty cock you’ve got between your legs and you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you? Hm?” 

“Nnghn … yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. Now switch me spots.” 

She peels away from him so she can move up a little higher on the bed while he gingerly gets himself situated on his knees. Even just a brief glance down at the state of his poor cock, swollen and darkened by the tight band cutting off the circulation to keep him hard and ready, is enough to make him feel light headed with overwhelm. He’d wanted this though, had practically begged any god willing to listen for even just one real chance with Jeanne, and he knew better than to fight it. He’d dug this hole for himself so, with an accompanying sniffly, he compliantly moves to position himself between the bend of her knees when she gets settled on her back. And looking down at her spread out like that, he dully realizes that he’s never been happier in all his life. 

It wasn’t just that she was pushing his body right to its limits while simultaneously keeping the important bits of him grounded in reality, although that was certainly gratifying in its own right too. It also wasn’t a simple matter of fulfilling and acting on his long held attraction for her, making his fantasies a reality. Rather, there was something about this power dynamic between them that just made him feel whole and complete, like he’d been born just to play this role for her. He’d experienced felt anything quite like it before, and it is with an immense amount of nervous anticipation that he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“I’m going to do it.” He announces, thinking it was for her benefit, but she immediately shoots that idea down when she tsk’s very softly in response. 

“What did I tell you about relaxing, Kaveh? Don’t worry. I’m confident you’re going to do an excellent job.” 

As if to prove that, she reaches between them and wraps her fingers around his straining length, giving it a tight squeeze. He shudders, feeling every little thing in high definition when the nerves were so sensitized and swollen with excess blood. It’s hard just to breathe through it but she helps him with this as well by gently guiding him back into place and encouraging him with a slow tug. 

Clutching her soft thighs in a death grip, Kaveh follows the suggestion with his hips and pushes forward, spearing into hot creases and folds in torturous slow motion. He can’t quite bring his body to move any faster than that and he lets out a frazzled, high pitched keening sound when he starts to sink inside her body again. It felt even more intense than it did the first time, and he surely had the black thong cinched tight around his scrotum to thank for that. Almost like having a transcendental experience, it makes his soul feel like it’s flickering out at the edges.  

He keeps going though, a little too far gone within the heightened daze of his arousal to think of anything else other than burying himself as deep into Jeanne as he could reasonably go, and he doesn’t stop until his pelvis is flush with hers. Letting out a wounded, faltering grunt, he sways unsteadily over top of her. Tries to ground himself to no avail. He wasn’t going to come out of this on the other side the same person he’d once been. Of that he’d never been more certain.  

“Kaveh,” She says his name so soft, so dotingly, as her hands come up to cup his face and angle it down at her. “You’re crying again, my love. Do you really like being inside me that much?” 

Numbly nodding his head even while the tears continue to streak hot tracks down his cheeks, the blond fumbles for something to say before finally settling on, “I do. Of course I do, but … I want to make you feel good too.” 

A slow smile curls Jeanne’s mouth, more sly and knowing than it is sweet, but like a loyal dog Kaveh is just happy to get whatever he can. He doesn’t mind the way she looks at him like a hungry, powerful predator sizing up its prey and he doesn’t mind the way she reaches down to possessively grope at his chest either. Despite him being almost totally flat and lacking in much to grab, that doesn’t stop her from pinching at his poor little breast until he hisses, half in discomfort and half in pleasure. This, too, he was happy to be on the receiving end of. 

“You are making me feel good, you silly thing. But I’d feel even better if you started moving already. I’m not much for cock warming, you know.” 

He blushes straight up to his ears, stammering out a quick apology. Unconcerned, Jeanne slides her hand further down and then back to reach for his tight ass, giving it an appreciative jostle. 

“Quickly, now. If you don’t act soon I’ll have to fuck you instead and show you how it’s done. Considering the way you reacted just from having my finger inside you I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet, are you?” 

“N - no, ma’am. I’m not.” 

“Didn’t think so. Then get moving.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[aesethewitch]

Watermelon Salad Spell Recipe - Summer Solstice Feast

Every year, I do a feast for each of the solstices and equinoxes. This is the first recipe for the 2024 Summer Solstice! My main goal for the overall meal is generating energy, preparing for the darkening half of the year, enhancing success for upcoming projects, and celebrating the sun. These themes repeat throughout the meal in a variety of ways.

I always serve seasonal fruits as snacks before a feast, and that’s how this watermelon salad recipe started. Now, I prefer it as a delicious side dish to provide a burst of freshness. It brings a distinctly Summer feeling to the meal that other salads don’t quite manage. I suggest getting fresh, local produce at a farmer’s market or local stall if you can! Local-grown watermelons just hit different.

Ingredients:

1/2 of a Large Watermelon 2 c Fresh Spinach 1/2 c Feta, crumbled 1/8 c Balsamic Vinegar (or to taste)

Instructions:

Wash your spinach and then pat dry.

Cut the watermelon into one-inch cubes.

In a large bowl, toss the watermelon, spinach, and feta together until well combined.

Drizzle with the balsamic vinegar.

Serve immediately. If not serving immediately, wait to drizzle the balsamic vinegar until just before serving and refrigerate the watermelon, spinach, and feta mixture.

Recipe Notes:

I first had this salad at a local sandwich shop one summer. I’ve been obsessed ever since. It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s absolutely delicious.

If you don’t like balsamic vinegar, you can omit it. Instead, I would suggest a sprinkling of salt and pepper to give it a little more depth of flavor. You could also use another type of salad dressing, but I would advise against using something with strong flavors that would overwhelm the watermelon flavor.

The amount of feta in the recipe is a suggestion. I often end up adding more than half a cup, because I like it. Half a cup is the minimum amount I would suggest.

This is a must-have in my picnic baskets and at summertime parties. If you’re making this for a crowd, I would suggest doubling the recipe and using a whole watermelon. I tend to go for one without seeds, but you can choose whatever type you prefer.

To make this a more fortifying main dish, I’ve added cubed or shredded chicken to the mix. You could also toss in a bit of tofu if you prefer to keep things vegetarian.

Magic Notes:

Watermelons are about 90% water. This means they have a strong connection to the element of water and its properties. In my practice, this means it has elements of healing, calm, wisdom, and emotion. In particular, also thanks to the color and personally-studied effects, watermelon is useful for workings surrounding romantic love, self love, and joy.

Spinach is my favorite leafy green, and it’s also good for you! I associate it heavily with health and wellness, but it’s lent itself well to workings surrounding wealth and success, too.

Balsamic vinegar is made from grapes! Like wine, it’s an aged product that requires a lot of time and patience before it’s ready to use. And like wine made from grapes, it can be associated with a range of things like love, abundance, and harvest. I find that ingredients which have been aged or which require a long time to produce make excellent contenders for magical workings surrounding hard work and gratitude.

Put them all together (with the rich, salty feta cheese), and you’ve got a recipe that can lend itself toward any number of purposes. For the Summer Solstice, I’m emphasizing the qualities of joy, wellness, and hard work. The idea is to acknowledge the work that’s already been done and prepare for the second half of the year, imparting energy and motivation on whoever eats the salad.

If your watermelon has seeds, you can either leave them in if they won’t bother you, or you can remove the ones you’re able to get to while cutting the melon into cubes. Set them aside to dry slightly, and you’ve got a new component for another spell! Seeds of most sorts are good for blessing new projects or endeavors. Because their fruit is so large, I tend to associate watermelon seeds with bringing about big changes or big successes — new careers, blessing a garden for a large harvest, seeking a new home, and so forth. In my mind, the bigger the goal is, the bigger the seed’s fruit (or plant, if it’s a tree seed) ought to be.

If you enjoyed this recipe or if you plan on using it as part of your own Summer Solstice meal, please consider reblogging or tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! Doing so has a bonus benefit:

The full collection of Summer Solstice recipe posts are going up on Ko-Fi this week for supporters only! You can tip me a couple dollars, commission me for a tarot reading or a custom recipe, buy a recipe card bundle from my shop, or become a monthly member! Support helps me keep the lights on and this blog running. (:

All of the recipes will also be sold as a bundle of pages designed to go in a grimoire next week, just in time for the Solstice!

You can view this recipe on Ko-Fi also:

[wachi-delectrico]

Tbh i don't know what to think of AI art anymore. I don't find any utility, personally, in centring the discussion on law and copyright; there are far more interesting things to discuss on the topic beyond its use as a replacement for human artists/workforce by the upper class

[trans-leek-cookie]

vague thought but I feel like we and I mean like. Everyone of us needs to learn to like. Idk self reflect and learn not to be voyeurs... Like this is abt myself as well. Specifically in cases of real life tragedy, like, when do we go from learning abt something to using it to feed a sort of entertainment (in a similar way to a horror movie)? How do we learn to identify when something is excessive? Sure, details can be important, but when do they stop teaching and start just being fuel for a morbid fascination?

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I think I have a potentially controversial opinion on Aziraphale and the ending.

So one of the things that made me smile so, SO much, was THIS:

That PURE ABSOLUTE UTTER JOY.

We have not seen ANYTHING like that from demon Crowley. We've seen him be drunk and silly, we've seen him be amused, but we've not seen this.

Now, let's consider what we know about Heaven:

It's never fully populated. ALL of the shots are completely devoid of angels, except for a few, who are almost always just getting somewhere and never really talking to each other.

Where I thought the archangels were a tight clan, it really looks like they're super catty and prone to jealousy. No doubt they would stab each other in the back happily if it came down to it. How much of Heaven is like that, if even the archangels all hate each other?

Aziraphale already has a nervous disposition when he meets Crowley. Is he perhaps an angel that NEVER fit in? Is he familiar with being ostracized by his peers? Just how lonely IS Heaven? Crowley seems to be a pretty powerful angel, and HE doesn't even know that it's all getting shut down in 6000 years -- it's like no one talks to anyone.

Aziraphale, during their whole meeting, looks absolutely smitten. At one point, Crowley goes, "Look at you! You're gorgeous!" and Aziraphale looks over with happy surprise, just before realizing he's not looking at him but rather at what he's created. And then, when Crowley starts going on about making suggestions and asking questions, Aziraphale is IMMEDIATELY concerned and doesn't want him to get into trouble.

Aziraphale is hooked on this angel, and I cannot help but think that this is perhaps the first angel who has ever WELCOMED Aziraphale into his company.

He is hooked on this angel, and the way Crowley smiles is with the light of all the stars he's just created, and it's infectious and it brings a smile to Aziraphale's face as well. And then this angel shields him from the oncoming falling stars.

He is hooked on this angel, and then this angel goes and joins the Great Rebellion, and becomes fallen himself.

"You were an angel once," Aziraphale said, softly, at the bandstand. He remembers.

I think it's reasonable to guess that Heaven has never felt so warm as it did in the presence of millions of exploding stars, next to the (arch?)angel that may perhaps be one of the few (only?) to pay him any positive attention.

I think it's reasonable to assume that Heaven was not the same after Crowley fell. I wouldn't be surprised to find out Aziraphale had wondered about the angel, wondered if he was okay. I would imagine that Aziraphale keeps that picture of pure, angelic, unbridled joy somewhere inside of him.

So, really, is it any surprise that threaded throughout EVERY interaction, Aziraphale has this deep-down feeling that Crowley is good? Would it be any surprise that Aziraphale, an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can (which isn't always), feels that if HE is still an angel, then what was done to Crowley was a great injustice?

I think it would make sense that we are shown "before the beginning" not just because it is fun, but because THIS is the foundational context for everything Aziraphale thinks Crowley is, everything Crowley enjoys. I think he remembers this moment and wishes he could live there forever. With Crowley. The two of them with this happiness, forever.

But nothing lasts forever, as much as he wishes it did.

I'm not saying Aziraphale was right with what he did to Crowley at the end of s2. There is a lot I think he did wrong. I think he held onto this picture so tightly, he didn't realize that Crowley had long since let it go, and painted a new one with Aziraphale with all the shades of grey he picked up as he sauntered (or plummeted) vaguely downward (into a pool of boiling sulfur).

I don't think he was right, but I do think he is understandable. I think there was a lot of selfishness, but also some misguided selflessness too. I watched that first scene with angelic Crowley and my heart actually broke a little, because I thought, "What a shame this joy was taken away from him."

I think Aziraphale is trying to right the injustice he feels has been done. But I also think Aziraphale doesn't realize that Crowley can never go back. The concept of falling never crossed Crowley's mind when he suggested that he ask a few questions, and he will NEVER get that kind of innocence back. And Aziraphale doesn't understand, because Heaven has clearly always just been that way for him (he is already aware of the danger of asking questions).

Crowley does not want to go back because he can never go back. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could build a universal machine that would crank out stars for eons and eons. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could make some suggestions and ask some questions and co-create with THE Creator.

Crowley understands that, and Aziraphale doesn't. But I can understand why Aziraphale would want to try. And I think it's all because of this:

[amuseoffyre]

I've been rolling around in Good Omens thoughts again and a gifset made something jump out at me.

This is where the Metatron is going to come undone. He's got the same binary thinking as Heaven. Good or bad. Heaven or hell. Coffee or death. So predictable.

It reminded me of the scene in S1 when Aziraphale is confronted by the angels and they tell him "it's time to choose a side" and this is where it gets chewy and delicious.

Aziraphale points out "there obviously has to be two sides. That's the whole point, so people can make choices. That's what being human means - choices, but that's for them. Our job as angels should be to keep all this working so they can make choices".

He's already arguing for humanity all the way through S1, which is a problem, but it's something he's done consistently. Not questioning. Very much, not questioning. Just... offering suggestions. So this isn't news. He's even made these kind of suggestions to the Metatron before, so not new.

At the end of S1, Crowley points out that he thinks the real 'big one' is coming "Heaven and Hell against humanity". Aziraphale has been sitting with that knowledge for years. He and Crowley have been dancing on the edge of disaster with Heaven and Hell turning up whenever they wanted, invading their space, demanding their time and compliance even though they are seen as rogue agents.

Everything in S2 is Aziraphale trying to maintain the veneer of everything is fine while still dealing with the terror of it all falling apart. The "or death" has been hanging over them the whole time. He saw the attempted execution. He's been told by Heaven that Crowley is under threat.

But the thing about Aziraphale is that he never ever does the predictable thing. Yes, he agreed to go back to Heaven. Yes, the Metatron leveraged Crowley's safety against him to guarantee it. The statement of "I don't want to go back to Heaven" turning around as soon as Crowley's safety is brought into it. Yes, he'll be the Archangel.

But this is the angel who gave away his flaming sword and lied to God's face. This is the angel who interfered in a bet between God and Satan to save the lives of three children. This is the angel who collaborated with a demon so they could have more down time. This is the angel who was swayed towards saving the world because he loves his life there and all his favourite foods and music and indulgences. This is the angel who flipped the bird and dive-bombed out of Heaven to possess a medium and fly a scooter to the end of the world.

Whatever the Metatron thinks he's done by separating Crowley and Aziraphale, he has no idea what he's unleashed. Crowley's bee metaphor comes to mind here. Angels are fiercely protective of Heaven but once you're inside? Well, that's another story. Aziraphale may look like a bee, but he hasn't been a bee for a long, long time. They knew it at his trial.

And Aziraphale can't say he didn't warn them:

"So you're probably thinking if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do and very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out"

Heaven's got a big storm coming and they let it right in through the front door.

[yuutx]

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ! ! (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)

student council president! scaramouche x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ modern au / school au ﾉ creampie ﾉ blowjob ﾉ fingering ﾉ clit play ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ biting ﾉ public sex (sex in school) ﾉ praise kink ﾉ hate sex (?) ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread !꒰๑´ᗜ`꒱*›◡‹꒱꒱

i loveee school au's . . . scara strikes me as one of those cocky, super smart student council presidents who thinks he knows everything ,, however, he also gives me delinquent always getting in 2 fight vibes ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The snarky bastard. You couldn't help but glare at him, the smirk on his face only further fueling the fire that raged within you. Scaramouche, the student council president and the biggest, nastiest bitch you had ever met. He flaunted his status as the council president, his influence and wealth. Everyone loved him, and it infuriated you to no end. Even if his words had a way of cutting through you, a barb hidden within every statement, the way he made your heart race was what got you the most.

Your hatred for him was palpable, the tension between the two of you nearly suffocating. And he loved it. He lived for it, the way you would sneer at him, the way you'd bite back. Getting you in trouble was the best part. Watching as you fumed, as you glared, as you were reprimanded and scolded was a high like no other. It was addicting, watching you suffer, watching as you fell from grace, the power dynamic between the two of you skewed in his favor. You were always looking for a fight, and he was always willing to give you one.

Today was no different.

You sat in the empty classroom, accompanied by your oh so favorite person. Detention, again. It seemed as though he was the only one who had a knack for getting you in trouble. He knew exactly how to press your buttons, exactly which buttons to push. Your temper was your greatest weakness, and he exploited it to his benefit. It was the same shit, day after day. You were both so caught up in your hatred of each other that you hadn't realized the mutual pining. But that was besides the point.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone's been naughty," he taunted, a grin curling the edges of his lips, his gaze boring holes into the side of your face. You didn't bother responding, your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek. You couldn't deny that he was attractive, no, he was downright gorgeous, and it only served to piss you off even more. He was an asshole, through and through, and his looks only made him that much more appealing. The urge to smack the look off his face was almost too much, but you had a feeling that would only earn you a harsher punishment.

He stood up, slowly making his way towards you. You refused to make eye contact, knowing full well that the look he was giving you was absolutely predatory. His fingers gripped your chin, the touch light, and your eyes snapped up to his. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, slut." The words were hissed, and the nickname stung, even if it caused a small thrill to go through you. He had called you so many things, but that was a new one. His voice was a low rumble, the look on his face downright evil. "You know, I would really hate to have to punish you. Again."

"Maybe if you would stop harassing me, I wouldn't be here." You were quick to retort, glaring up at him with a scowl. His eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, the sound mocking.

"Oh? And yet you were the one who threw the first punch. Who started this, huh?" You had a smart remark on the tip of your tongue, but his grip tightened, and he tugged your head back, leaning down to whisper against your ear. "I could tell the principal. That would look awful on your permanent record. Or…" his tone was suggestive, the offer clear. He had been trying to get under your skin since the first day, and you were beginning to realize that it had been in more ways than one.

You knew what he was implying, and the idea didn't sound bad. But, the thought of him thinking that he could get away with doing whatever he wanted was even worse.

"Or, what? You're gonna fuck me into submission?" Your words were a challenge, and his smirk turned into a full blown grin, his teeth glinting in the light.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl?" The pet name sent a shiver down your spine, and the look on his face let you know he was more than aware of the effect it had on you.

"Don't call me that." Your words were more breathless than angry, and he chuckled, releasing your chin, only to slide his hand down your body. You were wearing a skirt, something that had been a mistake, the fabric bunching up around your waist. You couldn't help but squirm as his fingers danced along the inside of your thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing.

"What? Pretty girl?" You hated the way he spoke, the way his voice was so low and sensual, his words practically dripping with sex. It was driving you crazy, and you were sure he knew it. His fingers moved closer to your cunt, your panties damp, the fabric clinging to your pussy. His fingers grazed over your clit, the contact minimal, but enough to make you jump, the noise you made a strangled groan.

"Yes.." you moaned, your hips grinding down against his hand, seeking out more friction.

"What's the magic word?" His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you swallowed, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to get a handle on yourself. He wasn't allowed to do this. He wasn't supposed to have this kind of effect on you. And yet…

"Please.." the word was a whisper, the desperation clear, and he hummed, pleased, his fingers rubbing over your cunt, the fabric of your panties doing little to nothing to muffle the pleasure.

"Good girl." He practically purred, the praise making you shudder. It felt so good, having his hands on you. It was as if your brain was short circuiting, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt overwhelming.

His fingers hooked around your panties, and he tugged them to the side, his finger sliding between your folds.

"God, you're so wet. Are you sure this isn't what you've been wanting? Huh? Me fucking you? Filling you up?"

"Shut up.." you muttered, the flush on your cheeks spreading down to your neck. He was right, though. You had thought about him. Imagined him bending you over, his cock buried deep inside you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips. His words were filthy, the filthier the better. You didn't want him to stop.

"You're so sensitive." He mused, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing the bud in slow circles, his finger moving up to prod at your entrance. "I can feel how bad you want this. You're practically dripping.." he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

"F-Fuck you..!" You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, his words making the heat in the pit of your stomach burn even hotter.

"Such a mouth on you. I bet I could find something to put in it." He teased, his teeth scraping against the side of your neck, biting down, hard enough to leave a mark. You groaned, the noise echoing throughout the room, and his fingers pressed against your hole, pushing the digit into your tight cunt. Your walls squeezed around the digit, the feeling strange, but not unwelcome. His finger felt amazing, his pace slow and torturous, but it was more than enough to have you panting.

"You're doing so well. Such a good girl, taking my fingers like this.." he crooned, and you whined, his words going straight to your core. "How about I give you another one, hm?" You nodded, the movement jerky, desperate.

"Y-Yes.." you mumbled, your hands reaching to cling onto him, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt. He hummed, adding a second finger, your walls stretching around him. He scissored his fingers, slowly fucking you with them, his thumb continuing to rub at your clit. It felt incredible, the way he was filling you up, the stretch almost too much. You were moaning, unable to keep quiet, and you heard him laugh.

"Awww, you like this, huh? You're so loud, baby. You love me that much?"

"F-fucking hate you.. t-this- this isn't-" he cut you off, curling his fingers, the tips of his digits pressing against your sweet spot. The moan that left you was embarrassingly loud, and his free hand grabbed your hair, tugging on the locks, forcing your head back. He forced his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly, swallowing all the noises that escaped you.

"You talk too much." He breathed, the words coming out muffled against your lips, and you tried to bite back the whine that was building up in the back of your throat, the coil in the pit of your stomach wound up so tightly, your body tense.

"I-I'm close, fuck- I-I'm so-" you couldn't think, his fingers still pounding into you, his thumb pressing down on your clit, the pressure just the right amount. You felt him smirk, his fingers moving faster, his free hand moving to grip your hip, his hold bruising. "C-cumm-ing!" You managed, the word getting caught in the back of your throat, and the coil snapped, your body jerking as you came, his fingers still working inside of you.

"There you go. Come for me. Cum all over my fingers, just like that. Good girl." His praise only made the orgasm even more intense, and you whined, the feeling too much. You could feel his gaze on you, watching you as you came undone, his fingers working you through it. He pulled his fingers out, bringing the digits to his lips, sucking them clean, his tongue flicking out to lick the digits clean. "Y-you- you won't tell the orin-the principal about my-my detention record, right?"

You couldn't form a coherent sentence, the pleasure fogging up your brain. Scaramouche chuckled, a wide grin on his face, his gaze heated, and you realized just how much you enjoyed his attention on you. "You'll.. get ride of all thedetentions on m..my record a-and make sure I don't have anymore?"

He grinned, his fingers gripping the hem of his pants, undoing the belt, pulling his zipper down, pulling his cock out, the tip already glistening with pearly liquid.

"Only if you make it worth my while." You knew exactly what he meant, and you were more than willing to comply. You dropped to your knees, the cold tile digging into your skin. You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat from his member nearly searing. You leaned forward, flicking your tongue against the tip, the taste of his precum salty, but delicious.

"M-mhm, mhm.. deal." You agreed, your hand moving up and down his length, trying to get him wet enough so that your movements wouldn't be too rough. His eyes were trained on your movements, his hand reaching out, tangling in your hair.

"Good girl. Now, open wide." You parted your lips, opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gripped the back of your head, his fingers digging into your scalp, and he thrusted his hips forward, the head of his cock sliding past your lips. The feeling of his cock in your mouth was unlike anything you had ever felt before, the weight heavy on your tongue. He slowly pushed himself further into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicking in, making your throat contract around his length. He moaned, the sound making your cunt throb, and he held himself there, waiting for a few seconds before he started thrusting.

"Fuck- so- so fucking tight- you're doing so well.." he grunted, his eyes shut, the pleasure washing over him. His words had you moaning, the vibrations of your voice around his cock making him thrust harder. Your hand was pumping what wasn't in your mouth, your spit making the movements slick, his cock glistening. You were struggling to breathe, but the feeling of him filling you up, the feeling of him using your throat like this was amazing, and you couldn't get enough.

His hips were stuttering, his thrusts becoming more erratic, and he pulled out, his fingers wrapping around his length, pumping the digits, the tip of his cock pressed against your lips, your tongue darting out to lap at the head.

"Ahh- shit, here- come here.." he breathed, tugging at the strands of your hair, and you stood, your legs trembling, and he pushed you back against the wall, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers tugging your panties down, throwing them across the room. "Still so wet, hm? You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" He breathed, lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, the position putting him in perfect alignment with your cunt. You could feel his cock rubbing between your folds, the tip brushing against your clit, the contact making you moan, your hips bucking.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled, the sound deep and low, his eyes trained on your face. You were too out of it to come up with a response, the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure threatening to drown you.

"F-fuck me, please.." the words left you before you could stop them, and his eyes widened, the look on his face a cocky tone.

"Oh? I didn't know you could beg, pretty girl."

"J-just.. I need you.." you pleaded, the feeling of his cock brushing against your cunt driving you crazy, the friction not nearly enough.

"You'll have me." He promised, and he pushed his hips forward, his cock sinking into you, his hands holding onto your thighs, keeping you steady. The feeling of him inside of you was like nothing you had ever felt before, his cock stretching your cunt, filling you up so well, his size almost too much. A high-pitched whine escaped you, and his grip tightened, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin.

"H-holy shit.. fuck, you're so fucking tight, fuck-" his words were cut off, a low groan escaping him, and he didn't bother waiting for you to adjust. He didn't give you a chance to recover. His hips were pistoning, his thrusts rough, his cock slamming into you over and over again. "You feel so fucking good." He grunted, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. He was gorgeous, the sounds escaping him like music to your ears, and the pleasure was making your brain short circuit.

"Fuck..haah.. fuck, take it, baby, take all of me, you're so- so fucking perfect, shit, I'm not gonna last long, god, you feel amazing.." he rambled, his pace brutal, and you cried out, pathetic noises leaving you. You felt like a bitch in heat, a sexdoll, his to use however he saw fit, and as much as it pissed you off, the thought only served to turn you on even more.

"M-mh.. ha-harder! Fuck- fuck me- harder, ple-please-" you managed, the words coming out choked, and his eyes shot open, his gaze wild, the look on his face pure animal. He moved even faster, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing throughout the room.

"Shit, y-you want it that bad? Huh? Y-you like being fucked this hard? T-talk to me, baby, tell me how much you like it." His words were punctuated with moans, and you gasped, your nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt, the material wrinkling under your grip. You were shaking, your cunt squeezing around his cock, the feeling of him inside of you driving you absolutely crazy. The coil in the pit of your stomach was growing tighter, and the pleasure was making it difficult to breathe, his cock filling you up so well. You could feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and he chuckled, the sound dark and deep, the noise making your cunt throb.

"F-feels good, f-fuck..a-so good.. i l-love your c-cock.. ahh, p-please, f-fill me up..! W-want it so bad- ah! M-more!" Your words were barely coherent, a babble of broken sentences, but they seemed to be enough, his cock driving into you with enough force to push the air from your lungs, his cock bottoming out, the tip pushing against the entrance of your womb. You were crying out, your noises almost deafening, the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your vision was blurry, the pleasure so intense, and you felt his thrusts begin to stutter, his breathing labored. "Mmph!! Y-yes, yes, fuck, fuck.. c-cum with me p-please.. i w-wanna feel it, n-need it..!" You cried, and he groaned, his head falling back, his hair sticking to his forehead, his bangs damp.

"Dirty- haah, dirty girl. F-fuck, here- cum with me, t-together.." his fingers moved between your bodies, his thumb pressing down on your clit. The pressure was the last straw, the pleasure snapping, and your body seized, your mouth falling open, a pornographic scream eliciting from you as you synced up, cumming with him, your release washing over you in waves. Your gummy walls were clamping down on his cock, and he moaned, the noise sounding more like a growl, his seed shooting out, painting the walls of your cunt, his cock pulsating. It was a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt, and you shuddered, the pleasure so intense you couldn't help but sob.

Scaramouche grunted, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth digging into the side of your neck, biting down, his hips jerking, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him tremble. You were shaking, the two of you panting, your bodies pressed together. "Fuck.." he breathed, the word muffled against your skin, and you whined, the feeling of him pulling out making you squirm. His release began to seep out of your cunt, dribbling down your thighs, and he watched with a pleased expression, his cock twitching. You couldn't form a coherent sentence, too overwhelmed, but he seemed to understand. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, and his hand moved to brush the sweat soaked strands of hair from your forehead, a small smirk on his lips. "So, about those detentions slips.."

[starkwlkr]

you are NOT the world champion | max & charles

in another ruby fic it’s mentioned that charles is a world champion WELL for this fic that’s not true but he still drives for ferrari …

Formula 1 posted a new youtube video

Kids test their F1 knowledge! Featuring Ruby and Mathéo Leclerc and Noah Verstappen

The official channel for Formula 1 had uploaded a youtube video with the Leclerc kids and Noah Verstappen, of course with their families permission. The kids were going to be tested on their f1 knowledge with their dads asking them questions. Ruby was sat in between Noah and Mathéo, a white table was in front of them while Max and Charles were on the ends of the table with cards in their hands.

“Okay, welcome everybody! We are here to test these kids that should know at least something about formula 1. Are you ready?” Charles began.

“Wait! What are the rules? We need rules!” Mathéo interrupted.

“Uh, if you get the question right you get a point and whoever has the most point at the end—” Charles explained but Ruby spoke up.

“Is the world champion?” She questioned.

“My papa is one! What about yours?” Noah told Ruby. Then the kids got distracted talking about how many world championships their dads have.

“My papa doesn’t have one.” Ruby replied to Noah.

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he drives a Ferrari.”

Max bursted out laughing as Charles tried to regain everyone’s attention back to the game. “Okay! Okay! Are we ready?”

“Yes!” All three kids yelled.

“Alright. First question, what team does Lewis drive for? And you have to say it right or else you don’t get the point.” Charles clarified.

“The orange one! He drives that one.” Mathéo said, but Ruby aggressively shook her head.

“No! Lewis doesn’t wear orange, Théo. Lando and Oscar do! Lewis wears cool clothes.”

“He drives for Roscoe.” Noah added. “I like Roscoe.”

Ruby gasped and turned to face Noah. “He’s so cute! I like Roscoe too!”

“Does anyone know?” Max asked the kids. The kids stayed silent. “The answers is Mercedes amg petronas formula 1 team.”

“They should change it to Roscoe formula 1 team. It sounds better.” Ruby suggested, Noah and Mathéo agreeing with her.

“I’ll let Toto know. Okay, next question. This is the easiest one ever. Who is the current world champion?” Charles asked.

“Not you.”

“You’re very funny, Ruby Jules.”

Several questions later, the kids barely had enough points. Noah had actually remembered some things that Max had told him like what where the track names and how many races there was. Ruby managed to name a couple world champions other than Max while Mathéo remembered the numbers of drivers.

“So you are all tied and this is the last question.” Max told the kids. In the distance, he saw Mick with his girlfriend walking so he called Mick over just do he could ask the final question. “We have a guest here who is going to do the honor of asking the last question.”

“Hi Mick! Hi Mick’s pretty girlfriend!” Ruby waved to the couple as they made their way to the table.

“Hey guys.” Mick high fived the kids. He then took the card from Max’s hands and saw the question. He chuckled but proceeded to ask it. “Who is the best formula 1 driver ever?”

Immediately the three kids shouted “Michael Schumacher!” which made the adults laugh.

“You all won!” Mick gave more high fives to the kids and gave back the cards. “You’re all so smart. Keep it up, okay?”

“We will! Bye Mick and his pretty girlfriend!” Noah said.

“Does that mean we’re all world champions?” Mathéo asked.

“Papa, me and Théo are world champions before you!”

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Sugar, Spice and a Tempting Vice

VA! MC x OM! Characters

"Hey Levi, any new game recommendations for me? I just finished the last lot of books Satan suggested." You asked, plopping down your head on his shoulder to look at his screen.

"M-MC! You have to warn me before you do such things!" He muttered, his ears turning red as he scrolled some webpages pages for you. "But okay yeah these are the new games that are out recently... see anything you like?"

"Oh my God! It's out it's out!" You pointed excitedly at the screen. "Pretty Little Things is out! Finally!! I was dying to tell you all about it!"

Levi visibly stiffened up. "You-you were waiting for this particular game to come out? Are you sure it's not another game with a similar sounding name?"

"Nah uh this is the exact same one. Look up the list of voice actors in this game!"

"WHAT?! MC WHY IS YOUR NAME IN HERE?????"

"Yes! This was the new part-time job I couldn't tell you about since it was still in production! Im so glad you can just play it now!"

"...it's uh ready for download on all platforms already...so which character did voice?"

"Oh spoiler alert, my character is the only one that doesn't have a name, you have assign me one, the same way you name yourself. They even designed the characters to resemble all the VA's and add in some of their personalities, isn't that sweet?"

"Hahaha y-yeah definitely sweet! I'll be sure to check it out soon!"

"Great! Lemme know what you think of the game okay?!" You squeezed him in a small hug before you left.

Later in the Demon Brothers only group chat:

Levi: Code Red! Code Red! ASHSKSHSKSKSJJSKKS

Mammon: WHAT WHAT THAT MEANS AN MC RELATED EMERGENCY RIGHT??

Asmo: OMG are they OKAY?? Should I go check up on them in their room!?!

Satan: I'm already on my way.

Mammon: NOT BEFORE ME YOU'RE NOT!

Belphie: Is MC hurt in anyway?

Beel: Did they pass out from hunger?! I can bring them emergency snacks right away

Lucifer: Can you lot not lose your minds everytime MC is mentioned? Pathetic. Levi, calm down and tell us what's wrong.

Beel: But Lucifer I just saw you hurrying up the stairs to MC's room too...

Satan: Typical Lucifer. By the way, MC is perfectly fine, happy even. Levi what are you on about?

Mammon: Yeah MC can't stop smiling! It's a good thing that happened, you idiot! Why would you scare us like that?

Asmo: Omg apparently MC voice acted in a new game! Levi I need you to download it for me ASAP please!

Beel: Me too, please.

Belphie: Me three.

Lucifer: I've already done it, you all can do it yourselves if you could do your own work for once.

Satan: Oh shut up, MC just did it for you right now as they did it for me.

Levi: It's a Dating Simulator. With multiple H-rated DLC endings. And MC is one of the dateables.

...

Levi: Hello?!! Did you guys not see my message?!

Levi: Seriously no reaction?! You guys aren't freaked out by this?!?

Beel: I just heard several doors opening and closing at once.

Asmo: Oh come Levi, I think you already know what our reaction is Levi ♥️ How can we possibly hold in our excitement after such a news!?

Levi: Are you all downloading the game together?!!! Y'all are hogging the bandwidth too much, my download speed has gone way down!!

Simeon: Hey

Simeon: I heard some demons in a cafe, raving about a game where MC plays one of the main characters?

Solomon: Indeed MC just sent us all a link right now.

Simeon: Oh is that so? I'll get Luke to help me download it after he's done with his.

Levi: Luke is playing it too?! I don't think it's appropriate given it's certain hidden endings!!

Barbatos: MC already made sure of it. He only has access to the sibling and friendship routes. It's a special version they added for all ages.

Diavolo: It already has downloads in the ten thousands. I'm really glad to see how MC is beloved by Devildom.

Levi: Are NONE of you affected by the fact that there are erotic routes with MC's VOICE?!!

Solomon: Oh I personally cannot wait hear my adorable apprentice's performance.

Barbatos: Ahem. I'd rather not comment on it.

Simeon: Same.

Diavolo: Same.

Levi: Sigh. We really are just a helpless lot at the mercy of MC.

To be continued...