#so i can stare and condition myself further

[starsonmarsy]

is the pretty boy blank and empty?

Nothing but cock in that silly little brain of yours

going

in

and

out

stroking

up

and

DOWN

mm up and down

[stxrrydreamss]

Aizawa/Hawks/Dabi/Bakugo

They find out you were in a car accident.

Part 1, Part 2

Authors note: I’m taking a little break from writing Kilonova to work on some other stories for fun. I got this idea from driving on the highway in the rain and I ended up hydroplaning a few time. Thankfully no cars were around me. This took me a few days to write, so I hope you all enjoy! I even made the gifs myself :)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.

It was late and dark as I made my way home. Heavy raindrops began to pelt at my window and gradually increased in speed and size until, eventually, I had to hit my brakes due to being unable to see ahead of me. As I brake, I feel my car lose traction and start to hydroplane. I tried to stop my car from spinning by pumping my breaks and turning in the opposite direction before a black SUV that was unable to see in the heavy rain slammed into the back end of my car and turned away before another vehicle that was also unable to see hit me head-on, I brace for impact as my car flips, and I lose consciousness upon landing.

Aizawa

Shouta was finishing his shift when he received a call to respond to a three car accident nearby. Shouta accepts the job and hastily makes his way over. He had faintly heard the crash about ten minutes prior, and despite most of the sound having been drowned out by the rain, it still sounded nasty. He didn't expect to see your car amongst one of the few involved in the accident. The SUV had pulled over further down the street, and the vehicle's front end was destroyed; the other car, the red sedan that hitthe front end of your car, was totaled as the front end was missing, and the sides were scraped from flipping over onto its side and sliding.

Both drivers were okay with minimal injuries. You, on the other hand, were finally being pulled from the wreckage of your car with no status as of yet to your condition. There was debris from your vehicle scattered all across the road. The roof was caved in, the front end was smashed and caved in where the sedan had crashed, and the back end was caved in as well from where the SUV had struck your car. He stood in shock and covered his mouth to prevent himself from crying in front of all these people working hard in the pouring rain to help those involved in the accident.

He couldn't let his emotions out right now. He needed to do his job. He quickly gathered intel from the paramedics, who explained that the black SUV reportedly saw them hydroplane but failed to avoid their car. The one in the red sedan had been speeding under the influence and had also failed to prevent their vehicle from crashing into them. Upon hearing about the red sedan, Shouta was furious, but he needed to know if you were okay. Shouta left the plice and paramedics to do their job with investigating and tending to the two involved in the accident as he made his way towards you.

Shouta swore he stopped breathing upon finally seeing the wreckage of your car up close. Blood was all over the airbags and seats, the door had been pried open with the jaws of life, and he grimaced at the sight of one of your teeth sitting in a puddle of blood on the car's roof. The ambulance that had you rushed off a while ago. He had no idea if you were dead or alive, which scared him beyond belief. All sense of reasoning was out the window as he continued staring at the wreckage. They wouldn't take a deceased body to the hospital. Would they? Shouta snaps back to reality upon hearing an officer calling out to him once more. He blinks a few times and turns to the officer to begin exchanging information and to finish handling the situation as soon as he can so he can rush to the hospital.

Hawks

Keigo had finally arrived home after a long shift. He shook the water from his wings before entering your shared house. Keigo looks around the house for any sign of you, only to see you haven’t arrived home yet. He wasn’t worried. You were probably stuck in traffic with all this rain.

Keigo yawns as he stretches his hands before heading towards the bedroom. He places his headset and glasses on the dresser beside his bed before grabbing a pair of clothes and heading toward the bathroom. He turns on the shower before stripping himself of his soaked uniform and jacket and stepping into the shower. Keigo sighs, and his feathers puff up from a shiver running down his spine due to the contrast of the warm water against his cold skin. He relishes the newfound warmth and relief as he rubs at the sore parts of his body before finally deciding to wash.

Keigo grabs the bottle of shampoo when he hears his phone go off. He ignores it while leaving a mental note to check out who it is after he gets out. He begins washing his hair, and as he finishes rinsing his hair out, his phone rings again. He ignores it again while continuing to shower. Once he’s done, he steps out and grabs a towel.

As Keigo begins drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabs another towel beneath the one he had just held and begins to dry his hair. Keigo then proceeds to grabs his phone from the bathroom and returns to your shared bedroom. He unlocks the phone and plays the voicemail left by the person who had called him before putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the bed before standing back up to finish drying off and putting his sleepwear on.

“Hello. This is Yuriko Harusa calling from the hospital regarding your fiancé (Y/n) (L/n)-“ Keigo freezes upon hearing those words and rushes back over to his phone, running his fingers through his hair to moves his bangs from his face as he does so. “(Y/n) was involved in a car accident and is here with us in surgery. We would appreciate it if you could come down to the hospital to provide some information so the doctor can speak to you about further procedures-“ Keigo hung up the phone before the voicemail could finish. He was running to grab his keys from the nightstand and rushing out to his car.

Dabi

Dabi had been waiting patiently in your screened-in back patio to get home. He was falling asleep in your swinging chair, cuddled up in the throw blanket you left folded neatly on the seat, half asleep from watching the rain fall and the waterfall from the gutters fall to the ground in an odd melodic tune. He looks down at his burner for the time, and his eyes narrow at the number isolated across the screen. 10:42 P.M., it read. It would have been nice if you were here an hour ago. Dabi’s cyan eyes grow dark.

What could’ve happened to you? Did a villain get you? Did a hero catch on and take you in for questioning? His big question was whether or not you were okay. With that, he stands up from the swinging chair on the patio, folds the blanket before placing it back on the seat, and pulls his hood up before exiting the enclosure and into the pouring rain.

Dabi pouted angrily as he walked down the street towards the road you took home from work, now soaked from the pelting rain. Dabi had been walking for a good half an hour before he froze upon turning the corner and quickly hid back behind the wall of the building he had just turned around. The police lights caught him off guard. He slowly peeks around the corner to see if the coast is clear, but his eyes rest on the tow truck hauling your car away. The vehicle was ultimately destroyed among the other two cars on the lift.

Dabi’s eyes widened in shock, and he felt the urge to throw up from the sudden rush of emotions from his chest. You were not okay. He should’ve just ignored you and waited outside of the building you worked at so that he could’ve been there for you. No. Thankfully, he wasn’t in the car because then things would have been a lot worse.

If he would’ve been in there, your relationship could’ve been compromised, and both of you would have had to face the law. He’d instead you be injured than you facing a life behind bars because of his foolishness. You didn’t deserve that. Dabi’s skin hisses as his quirk activates due to his overwhelming anger, worry, and despair he was in. You were fine, right? You were just roughed up. You’ll be home soon.

One of the officers turns his head upon hearing the odd sound of hissing and begins walking in the direction of the noise. The officer sees a black figure disappear behind the corner of the building and he quickly reaches for his pistol before bolting. As the officer turns the corner, there’s nobody there. He looks around, confused, and looks down to put his gun away before stopping upon seeing a single drop of blood on the concrete being washed away.

Bakugo

Bakugo had been handling a few villains with strong quirks, one of which could control vehicles. The other two had already been apprehended, so all that was left was this villain before him. As he went to blind him with a blast so Izuku could successfully capture him, he heard a screech and a crashing noise.

“Shit!” He yelled as he finally blinded the enemy so Izuku could use black whip to restrain him.

“Could you please check on the civilians!” he yelled as he had his hands tied with the villains. Izuku then dialed for backup to escort the villains to jail and for some ambulances to tend to the injured.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm on it.” He yelled before blasting off towards the direction he heard the crashes. He stops at a black SUV first, ensuring the family inside we're okay. He rushes over to the man in the red sedan, who is dazed, but seems fine besides a possible concussion. Katsuki was not ready to see your car in the wreckage.

“Baby! Hey!” He shouts as he sprints as fast as he can to the car. It was flipped, and you were hanging upside down in your seat, unconscious. He quickly assesses the situation before pressing a hand to his headset to relay the situation to Izuku. “There were three cars. A black SUV with a family who seems alright, a red sedan with a man possibly with a concussion, and (Y/n) is unconscious among the wreckage of her vehicle.” He shouts quickly.

“Is she okay?” Izuku asks through the speaker.

“She better be fucking okay. Otherwise, I will handle that villain myself. ” Katsuki growls through his headset. He hoped that damn villain would get life in prison, at least. He didn't want to see that villain's face again; otherwise, he'd be a bloody mess of a pulp.

“I'll handle the rest once these villains are arrested and taken away. You can go with her to the hospital.” Izuku replies.

“Hey, come on, baby!” Katsuki cries out as he reaches through the shattered glass to unlock the door and gently unbuckle your seatbelt, catching you in the process. You were cold. “Shit.” He says in shock. He quickly carries you beneath the awning of a building before placing you down on your back and checking for a pulse. You didn't have one.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Katsuki yells out. Tears are now brimming in his shocked eyes, but he tries not to let them fall. “She doesn't have a pulse!” He yells through his headset as police sirens break the sound of the rain. He immediately starts CPR.

Katsuki’s hands are crossed onto your chest as he begins pumping it before pulling away and breathing into your mouth, repeating the cycle. “Come on. Come on!” He yells while pumping your chest again desperately before moving to start blowing into your mouth again. His heart is racing in fear. He didn't want to lose you. You didn't deserve this. You can't die like this. If only he were faster, you would have been fine. Katsuki didn't know how long he had been repeating the process and when he had started pleading and crying. It was a blur. The ambulance was taking you away. Izuku was ripping him away from you. Izuku was restraining him with black whip as he desperately tried to get to you. It was all blurred in his memory as he now sat in the living room of Kirishima’s house.

Kirishima sat with his legs spread and hands clasped between them, leaning forward as he watched Katsuki. Beside Kirishima was Izuku. Izuku was sitting similarly to Kirishima; only his l hands held his head in exasperation. Katsuki was catatonically sitting across from them on the couch. His eyes narrow and dark, staring at the floor. Izuku had brought Katsuki over to Kirishima's house to get him to calm down and de-escalate the situation.

Kirishima had hurriedly let them into his house and gave the two boys towels to dry off in. Izuku wasted no time drying off, but Katsuki ignored him and instead plopped himself down on the couch where he remained, not moving a centimeter. All he could think about was whether you would ever be home in his arms again.

[junosmindpalace]

His head aches directing his eyes toward the doorway, but Senku does anyway to get a glimpse at your figure.

Your fierce expression tells him you refuse to get any closer, as if punishment for the suffering he subjected himself on the dock of the Perseus just a few hours ago. Senku had caught a glimpse of you at the far back of the crowd when the crew had rushed him in from further ambush.

He remembers pain, a lot of it, Luna tending to him, and various members coming both to check on his condition and to receive instruction and advice. He’s found himself with a rare moment of true quiet and space for himself. Until you appeared, that was;

Angrier than he ever expected to see, yet he immediately knows why. The realization makes a frown settle over his own features, and he doesn’t dare break away from your tense gaze.

You strode towards him suddenly, hand slowly coming up in the air as if to punch him, tell him off with a disapproving finger, do something to express your fear and anger toward him for his stunt. All he did was stare with his mouth firmly planted in a deep frown, not wavering in his expression for a second even when you stopped suddenly by his side, keeping your hand in the air and staring at him with a fury hardly being kept in check. His stare almost challenged you to try and retort against the sacrifice he made, and oh how it made you wanna—

But then you sighed. Stepped back. Lowered your arm back to your side. Your brows creased upward in distress, and, oh, no, was your bottom lip quivering?

“You’re an asshole.”

“Well, isn’t that a pleasant way to greet a friend?”

“You shut up with that, I thought you—“

You halted your words, turning your back toward him as horrified eyes stared forward in an attempt to steel yourself. A hand ran down your face, stopping at your mouth. What a horrifying sight that was. Not even a sign of warning.

“C’mon,” he wheezed out with a slight upward curl of his lip. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yet the silence his remark was met with brought his lips back to a frown, a more melancholic expression. He called out your name and was met with nothing.

“I braced myself: what more could I have done?”

And you know he’s right. He’s being realistic. You have no right lashing out so aggressively toward him. If anything, you should be praising his bravery, his sharp thinking, his ability to still uphold witty banter with you in the state he’s in. But you can’t. Not when your racing heart hasn’t settled it’s violent thrumming against your ribcage, bruising it and your mental sanity, since the shot rang out. Not since you saw the blood spill out of him. Not since you saw the intense look of pain on his face.

So for now, you hate him for it. For all of it. Even though it wasn’t his fault. He anticipated it at least, so you hate him for it.

He calls for you again.

And finally, you look over your shoulder, eyes glassy and expression fierce. The sight makes Senku want to shiver.

“I did…what needed to be done…” he starts gently. “It’s up to you guys now. And I’ll help where I can.”

Ever the efficient one, that Senku. How it could infuriate you like nothing else. You would think him made of steel at times with the way seemingly nothing fazed him. But with the way you saw his blood pour out from him so quickly, the anguish on his face, it reminded you that he was more human than anyone you’ve ever met. So passionate, so full of life. Nearly childlike in the way he winced as every uncomfortable stir and breath he in and exhaled.

The tension in your face dropped. Senku’s own expression perked up, but mostly stayed firm as you approached him tiredly, pulling up the chair by his bed and taking a seat, hands hesitating as they reached for his.

He stared down at the space in between them, and then back at you just in time for you to raise your own exhausted gaze toward him. Don’t you dare push me away, they pleaded with him.

A little knock of his knuckles against yours gave you the permission you were looking for, and your carefully took his limp hand in both of yours, holding them gently. He chuckled a little as he stared upward, while your gaze remained steady on the bed, and offered a small squeeze in return, which in turn relaxed the tension in your shoulders.

Things were okay between you two. Things would be okay. The sentiment didn’t need to be voiced aloud.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Azul, Jamil: By One’s Grace

dnsjbsuebxkzn One of my friends noticed that Platinum Jacket Jade and Azul have the same two portraits, with the placements swapped. This is not true for other dorm leader-vice dorm leader pairs we’ve already seen, like Malleus and Lilia. Just an interesting little detail?

MORE JAMIL AND AZUL PETTY DRAMA… Been craving it since early book 4, one of my favorite treats 😋

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Jamil-san."

He flinched at his name and turned away from the caller. When the footsteps still came, Jamil retreated further into the exhibition. Famous faces stared down from their picture frames at the fleeing boy.

"Jamil-san, please wait for me," Azul tried again. He picked up his pace, in hot pursuit of his peer. "Jamil-san!!"

Deeper and deeper they delved, spiraling into the museum’s depths. The light slowly fading, the air stretching thin and gauzy. Neither relented from the chase--not until Azul ran his prey into a corner, an arm outstretched to contain him in a quiet corner. Jamil silently cursed.

Caged in with an octopus. Great.

A facetious laugh rose from Azul's throat. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to avoid me."

Jamil deadpanned. “You don't say. No, I was just trying to learn about the history of the Coral Sea in peace."

"If that's what you're interested in, I believe you'll find no better wellspring of knowledge than myself." Azul offered with a coy grin. "I would be more than happy to share stories straight from my hometown. Anything for a dearly beloved companion. such as you."

"No thank you," Jamil quickly retorted. I think I'd rather eat poisoned curry again. "I would be ill-advised to accept free 'help' from you. You'll come knocking and calling in for a favor a few days later."

"Who's asking for favors?" Azul gasped, feigning ignorance. "I simply wish to aid a classmate. As dorm leader of Octavinelle, I pride myself on keeping the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence alive and well."

Jamil scoffed and folded his arms. "Coming from you, that sounds extremely insincere."

"Me, insincere? Far from it!" He insisted, waving a hand dismissively. From the corner of his eye, Azul caught a flash of fiery red. He tilted his head, and his brows raised. "Hmm? Oh, this painting is..."

"The painting?" Jamil followed his gaze.

There was a young mermaid mounted upon a rock, a massive wave crashing into her from behind. Though the skies were dark and stormy, her face was full of light and sunshine. A great mane of fire whipped around her, the mermaid's chest thrust out and mouth open in joyful song.

"One of my favorite works of art."

"Somehow I doubt that..." Jamil sighed. "What exactly do you like about it?"

"Many things! For one, there is her gullible... er, excitable expression. You can see just how much wonder she has for the world. She's full of hope for her future prospects.

"In fact, this is the very same mermaid appears in some legends about the Sea Witch." Azul chuckled softly--though his growing smirk was anything but. "A mermaid so lovesick, she failed to meet the conditions set forth in her deal. Because of that, she incurred the Sea Witch's fury. It's a cautionary tale to always pay one's dues, fufufu."

"... No wonder why you like it," his peer grumbled. "For her to make a promise to the Sea Witch and then not follow through with her end of the bargain... How foolish. Her punishment is well-earned."

"Punishment? Perhaps one could use that word, but I see it as a form of the Sea Witch's compassion."

"There's nothing compassionate about debtor being raked across the coals."

"Compassion is not just kindness, Jamil-san. Compassion is also the sternness that comes from a place of caring. The Sea Witch surely must have also been heartbroken to turn her anger on a client whom she placed her trust in. Were she to leave the mermaid to be, the mermaid would likely run amok and commit the same acts of betrayal unto others. Her lesson would not be learned."

Azul shrugged. "You see? The Sea Witch is truly benevolent and merciful, even when she lets loose her rage."

"What a twisted mind you have. I can't say I disagree with the course of action though.”

“Poor, unfortunate little mermaid,” Azul cooed. “She longed to change herself for true love, risking the life she knew for the uncertainty of new opportunities.”

“Hmph, a person who desperately wants to change themselves?” Jamil’s mouth cocked into a smirk. “Now who does that remind us of, hmm?”

He was met with a bitter laugh.

“The world can be a harsh place,” Azul said, his response evasive. “I wonder if the mermaid was able to finally face it.”

What would she have done if her optimism had been crushed under the weight of a cruel reality? What if her new self was rejected after all her struggles and sacrifices? What if her efforts were all for naught?

What if, what if, what if.

What if he was the same as her?

The inept octopus. Not smart, not particularly good at swimming, too bulky. Sobbing in his private little pot, the inky tear trails a dead giveaway to his location.

Nice clothes, good grades, and lifestyle changes couldn’t bury that past in the sand. It was not enough—would never be enough.

Once, he would have desired to kick her down. To see a sand castle fall apart at his own hand, to relish in the destruction. Wipe away proof of his old incompetence.

Be rid of it forever.

Now, he knelt and encircled it with his arms, Hugged that piece of him against himself, reassured it with compassionate words.

You’re here.

You’re a part of me.

I will never reject you again.

“… Change is as natural and as common as the coming and going of the tides. Why fear the tides—why fear change?”

Why deny what I was then, and who I am now?

Then, donning his brightest—and perhaps most genuine—smile, Azul faced Jamil head-on.

“It is by the grace of the Sea Witch that we were able to learn such a valuable life lesson at no cost to ourselves! Isn’t that wonderful?”

[avatar-anna]

Diamonds

pausing our regularly scheduled program with a luke hemmings blurb bc i love him and his solo music and i'm sad i couldn't go to any of his shows 😔 i'll get back to harry soon, but i'll take inspo wherever i can rn. enjoy!

"The next one we're gonna play for you is one of the most vulnerable songs I've ever written," Luke said, mouth pressed up against the microphone. The shimmer you helped spread over the lids of his eyes practically glowed under the blue lights that lit the stage. You thought he looked ethereal, the very embodiment of the music he was performing tonight.

"When I was putting together the final tracklist for this album," Luke continued, "I was hesitant to add this song because I was afraid that it was too vulnerable, but I was convinced that it was worth sharing, that the emotions and experiences behind this song would reach those who needed to hear it the most.

"The person who convinced me, and played a crucial part of making this record, is here tonight, and to them, I would just like to say thank you. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't and making me brave enough to truly face my demons. You pulled me out of the deep end when it felt like I was drowning, and I would be a completely different person than I am today without you. I love you. My heart and soul is yours to keep."

Cheers were heard throughout the venue as the opening chords began. As Luke started to sing, you were thankful that you decided to watch the concert from backstage, unable to keep tears from welling in your eyes.

"Cut like diamonds and sink like stones, starve myself 'til I'm skin and bone, I'm so much older than I ever thought I would be."

He said that often. My heart and soul is yours to keep. Yours to keep safe, was what he meant. It had taken him a long time to open up to you and trust your ability to be a good partner, so him saying that his heart was yours was huge. He trusted you that much not to break his heart, to never let him sink back into old habits and bitter thoughts. That level of trust meant everything to you.

In his little speech, Luke thanked you for being the one to convince him to release the song, which was true in a way. He'd been conflicted about the song at first, not ready to share such a dark period of his life so publicly. The song had originally been just a way to express himself, to put everything he'd been through on paper without ever letting it see the light of day.

Luke had shared what the song was about, had opened up to you just what had made him feel that way in the past—toxic relationships, poor decisions that led to even worse habits, hurting the people closest to him, all of his mistakes. He didn't hide any of it from you, and you took all of those misgivings, all of those past mistakes, and showed him that you loved him anyway.

"How far is far? Are we too deep in? How dark is dark? I need to see it."

It wasn't easy at first. When you met, Luke wasn't in a place where he could give himself to anyone emotionally. He believed that he was too damaged to be loved the way he deserved and that he was better off being alone and unhurt than trying to fall in love again and risk being completely ruined by someone he thought he could trust. He had been more closed off than anyone you'd ever met, but all of it just made you want to show him what love without conditions looked like. And he couldn't fathom why. Luke was never rude to you about it. He never snapped at you or pushed you away or treated you badly to make a point, he just truly believed that he wasn't worth your time.

*.*

You were at his house, hanging out as friends. Only this time you surprised him by bringing him flowers.

Luke had been completely dumbfounded, unsure of your intentions. You told him it was just to brighten up his home a little, and because you liked doing nice things for the people you cared about. He didn't question you much further, but the rest of the time you were together, you caught him staring at the bouquet that stood in the vase you'd placed them in. His gaze had been wary and apprehensive each time, and you finally told him the truth.

"I want to take you on a date," you said simply.

Luke seemed surprised, which led to a conversation that was perhaps a step below an argument, but only because you calmly listened to Luke and evaded his tactics to push you away with ease.

"I—I don't deserve you," he finally said, but his voice was heavy with emotion, like he desperately didn't want it to be true.

"Who decides what we do and don't deserve, Luke?" you said to him, resting your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently. To your surprise, he didn't pull away.

"I'm not good enough for you," he amended.

With a close-lipped smile, you leaned over from your spot on his couch and placed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the furrow there. "I think you think you're a worse person than you are."

You kissed his brow, your touch just enough for him to feel your lips brush his skin. When you pulled back, you tapped his nose with your knuckle. "I won't push you, and I won't try to fix you," you said, because the truth was, you didn't believe he needed fixing. But you knew you weren't going to be able to convince him of that. Not now, anyway. "But I will tell you this: you are a remarkable person, and when you're ready, I'd love to love you one day."

*.*

"I'm on my way out, losing the dream. I feel it crash down, down on me. Caught in the madness, holding on me. Is this the way it will always be?"

It took some time, but Luke eventually believed what you did from the day you met him. You were there to see him through the thick of it, holding his hand when he needed you to and giving him space when he asked. He'd gone off to write for a little while, and when he came back, you could practically see the weight lift from his shoulders. It was as if he'd left his biggest demons at the cabin he'd been staying in.

And now he was at his own solo concert performing the songs that held the deepest secrets of his heart. Luke sang each word with passion and pride, the kind that came from knowing that he'd overcome the darkness that had held him for so long. He wasn't drowning anymore, but he sang his songs so that his fans could see that it was possible to be in a dark place and come out of it.

The song faded to its end, and Luke bowed before the crowd as they cheered. He held his hands together in front of his face, the appreciation written in his features abundantly clear. You watched him survey the crowd with so much pride you thought you were going to burst, but you ended up just shedding a couple more tears instead.

While fans were still cheering and his band was playing chords that would lead into the next song, Luke jogged to the side of the stage where you were standing. You hadn't expected him to come over to you, but when you saw his face, you knew what he needed.

Your arms opened for him just in time as he wrapped himself around you. He held onto you tight, his face buried in your hair as he lifted you off the ground. You held on just as fiercely, hoping it would sufficiently express just how much you loved him.

Time stopped as Luke held you in his arms. He had a whole crowd waiting for him to sing the next song, but neither of you seemed worried about getting him back onstage. When he finally set you back down, you kissed his cheek a couple times before kissing him properly, your hands on either side of his face.

"Okay, okay, no more of that," you said, when he kept trying to follow your lips as you pulled away from him, wanting just one more kiss. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Now go. Everyone's waiting for you."

Luke began to turn like he was going to do just as you said, but before he walked away, he spun on his heel and caught you in one last kiss. Satisfied by your tinged cheeks, he grinned and kissed your cheek. "Mean the world to me, darlin.'"

Hearing him say that made you melt every single time, and he knew that. Shoving his shoulder playfully toward the stage, you said, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go be a rockstar, will you? You're keeping everyone waiting. Myself included."

Luke finally turned around for real and did just that.

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Two

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Thorned

Metal. Hatching out from soft, fragile skin, splintering out like daggers from a suit of armour.

Raya breathes loudly, silently staring at her own hands. Watching it metamorphosise. In real time.

Blood trickles across her skin from each birthing of steel, pain consuming her body in constant throbs of torture. She says nothing, does nothing, but stare at it happening in paralysed fear.

“Go get my kit, Bepo,” Law bites out, his knees messily grounding into the sand. He darkly takes in Raya’s condition, eyes flickering across her skin in thought, his head subtly tilting towards the other doctor. “Chopper, your drug – what does it consist of?”

Luffy, drawn to the commotion, widens his eyes in admiration as he stares at the silver peeking through skin. “Woah, what are those on your hands, Swords? Is that a new weapon?”

“No, it’s not,” Law spits out, shooting Luffy daggers with his eyes. He immediately looks down to the reindeer. “What did you use?”

“Atropine and Mink salve,” Chopper alertly responds to Law, as he, too, sits before Raya. His hoofs gently take in Raya’s palms, frowning intensely. “Did you take your dose today, Raya?”

Luffy frowns at his response, realisation slowly dawning in on him of the severity of the scene before him.

“Raya… are you okay?” Luffy asks – in a much quieter voice this time – as he stumbles his way towards her.

“Um,” Raya swallows, her voice trembling. Her eyes flicker to Zoro, who doesn’t even spare a glance in her direction. She notices his arms folding even tighter against his chest as he stands amidst the lapping waves. “Yeah, about half an hour ago.”

“Her tolerance,” Law mutters, making Chopper nod his head in agreement. A panicked Bepo comes running from a distance, Law’s medical tools clasped in his big paws as his eyes tear up in fear for his long lost friend’s sake.

The doctor breathes out a sigh of relief as he accepts the pack from his second mate, and with quick fingers, he begins to unfold his flap of tools. “We need to determine the condition as fast as we can. No known cause, no known cure – I’ll be honest, this isn’t good.”

“Fuck,” Raya grits her teeth, her hands slightly trembling in the fluff of Choppers soft hooves. Another metallic spike lodges its way out of her skin, almost as if reacting to her sudden anxiety. “Why don’t you keep on scaring your patient, Law? It’s doing wonders for her.”

What am I going to do? Raya thinks, watching the blood trickle heavily against her skin. Chopper presses firmly on the edge of the metallic wound, making sure to not lodge the shrapnel further into her skin. This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for any of this.

Suddenly, a warm hand rests on Raya’s shoulder.

She looks up, surprised, only to meet Luffy’s eyes.

Almost as if he’s read her mind, a soft, comforting smile sets on his lips, a bright look that promises her safety.

“You’re okay, Swords.” He smiles. “You’ll be the silver hedgehog of our crew, if they keep on growing outta you.”

And out of the blue, a flying hand comes into contact with Luffy’s head, smacking him so hard his head dislodges from his neck.

“Shut up, Luffy!” Nami yells.

“And here we were, thinking you were gonna be supportive for once,” Usopp sullenly mumbles, unimpressed.

As Law continues his examination, Zoro finally decides to walk towards the commotion, his arms so tensely folded together, the contours of his muscles bulge out in restrained fear.

"How did this happen?" he snaps, his gaze piercing as he directs his question at Raya.

Raya bristles at his accusatory tone, her jaw tightening as she meets his gaze head-on.

"What, you think I did this to myself?"

"I didn't say that," he replies. “But you sure as hell weren’t taking care of your hands when you were sharpening that sword before.”

“I’ve been sharpening swords my entire life, Roronoa. Spare me the lecture.”

“These conditions aren’t supposed to be triggered from physical wounds, either,” Robin gently intervenes, offering a comforting smile to both Zoro and Raya. She lifts the glittering tome in front of them – the one that they stole from the Shaman Island – and flips through the pages with delicate fingers. “According to the tome.”

Nami looks up at her, hope desperately grasping at her eyes. “Did you learn anything else? Does it talk about Raya’s condition at all?”

Robin shakes her head; worry takes over in the crease of her brows. “It only addresses basic mythic changes like metamorphosis.”

“Right, yeah, because that’s totally basic knowledge. You know, metamorphosis, something everyone knows about,” Usopp mumbles, gaping at Robin.

Raya's hands tremble slightly as she watches Law and Chopper work, holding in a painful breath, while Luffy silently rests his chin on her shoulder for moral support.

Zoro's gaze remains fixed on Raya, his earlier irritation tempered by a growing sense of concern.

"So, what are we supposed to do now?"

Law sighs heavily, his expression grave as he finishes his assessment.

"We need more information," he declares, his tone clipped and business-like. "Without knowing the cause, I can't offer any definitive treatment."

Raya's heart sinks at his words, the weight of her situation pressing down on her shoulders like a leaden blanket.

"But where do we even start?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nami's eyes flash with realisation as she begins to mumble in a trance. "The guy I spoke to before," she softly mumbles. “The one who knows where Suki is. He knows something.”

Suki?

Raya’s heart stops, her whole body turning cold from hearing those words, before a whole flurry of metal shards pierce through her skin synchronously, making her scream out in bone-chilling pain.

“Raya!” Sanji shouts. He stares at the metal that now spreads to her arms like an uncontainable plague. He then glares at the Surgeon of Death, before furiously barking out, “Law, do something, for fuck’s sake!”

“Why don’t you stop yapping like a dog and let me do my job?” Law barks back, his narrowed in menacing slits.

But Raya doesn’t seem to be listening to them – instead, she continues to stare at Nami, her face growing paler by the moment. Blood drips onto her clothes like a monotonous metronome, her heart faintly beating in her chest, before she opens her mouth to speak.

“You know where Suki is?”

Nami looks at her worriedly, nodding softly. “Very vaguely — I mean, a potential spot on the map. I was going to tell you before, but then… I saw your hands…” her voice breaks, complete devastation taking over her composure. “We need to take you to that man, Raya. Gods save me, I’m going to find you a cure. And he might be the one who has it.”

Raya's breaths come in short, ragged gasps as she struggles to contain the agony coursing through her body. Each movement feels like a fresh onslaught of pain, the metallic protrusions from her skin digging deeper with every passing second.

No! Fuck the treatment! Fuck the concern over me! It’s Suki we need to save! She screams in her head. I’d rather die than prolong his torture further.

“No, Swords.” Luffy stares hard-eyed at Raya, almost terrifying in his assertive gaze. He moves his chin from her shoulder, looking at her face-to-face. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Raya gapes at him whilst still gasping from her pain. “I-I didn’t say anything, Luffy.”

He cocks his head at her. “But I heard your voice?”

Gods, he needs treatment more than I do.

His eyes flash up and grins in response. “See? That’s definitely you!”

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Zoro mutters, glaring between the swordsmith and his captain.

“You didn’t hear her?” Luffy frowns at him.

“Never mind that,” Raya forces out through clenched teeth, the pain hitting the very marrow of her bones. Another set of metallic teeth jut out from her arms, growing out like ruthless talons. “My old man is my top priority. Not my fucking arms. I swear to you, I’ll refuse any sort of medical treatment if I have to prove my point.”

Zoro scoffs out loud, almost letting his fury show through his calm composure.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening,” he spits out, his jaw grinding together so hard Chopper begins to worry for his teeth.

Raya glares up at him, betrayal consuming her whole. If he’s so haunted by his own actions, then why’s he butting in?

“I thought we had an understanding, Roronoa,” she gasps out.

“No.” His nostrils flare, his face almost seeming drunk with anger. “Not at your expense, Tenguyama.”

Raya's breath hitches in her throat, a mix of pain and frustration swirling within her as she locks eyes with Zoro.

Zoro's expression hardens; he squares his shoulders, refusing to back down.

“Is this really what you think Suki wants? You, to needlessly die, for his sake?" he growls. “You wouldn’t be saving his life, no. You’d doom him to live a life as a broken man.”

Beat.

And Raya screams out in pure, uncontrolled fury, swiping her palms away from both doctors. She screams out so furiously, the tears that spill from her eyes are thick with fire.

She bellows into the air, so fiercely, so wildly, that the winds around her grow in such tumultuous speeds, swirling out so heavily around everyone, that Luffy’s hat almost disappears into its swallowing mouth.

“Who are you, to tell me that?” she yells out loud. And almost majestically, her feet raise from the sand.

Her eyes glow with whites and oranges as she floats within her own tempest. “You are insufferable.”

“Get down! Right now!” Law bellows at everyone, pulling himself and Bepo down to the sand. “She’s possessed!”

“Raya!” Nami screams as she scrambles for her hovering body, but before she gets anywhere near Raya, Luffy roughly tugs at her away in his arms.

“What the fuck?” Usopp screams, slamming his body to the ground with Chopper underneath his harm.

Raya does not know where she or who she is. She is simply elemental. She is both human and non-human.

And, as she rises higher and higher into the sky, her eyes blazing in a distant trance, the blood in drains from her faster and faster. She howls like the winds amongst her, cries like the way her own metal stabs at her, and all the same, she is confined to a frail human body that offers many limitations and very little freedom.

One of the limitations being blood.

Raya then collapses to the floor, no pupils found in the midst of the whiteness of her eyes.

Beat.

Zoro gathers her up in his arms, the metal from her body burrowing deeply into his own skin. He freezes in his spot for a second, allowing the metal to sink its teeth all the way into his body, allowing Raya’s complete pain to transfer into him.

And with no reaction – with no expression on his stern face, and no sound made from his clamped down mouth, he slowly moves, the shrapnels of her steel now lodged deeply in his own bloodstream.

And without even a look to the others, he walks back to the ship, with the thorned girl laying stricken in his bleeding arms.

[hexpea]

Ch. 4 - Conditions

"Are you sure you're okay alone?" You asked Seiko as you put on your shoes to head out for the day. The two of you stood at the entrance to your hotel room having final contemplations about getting this divorce finalized. "You can...come if you want? I just figured it would be...awkward for you."

"I'm sure, I'm fine," Seiko reassured you for the thousandth time that morning. Your nerves had you psyched out since the minute you got back from your parents' place. "I've plenty to do on my Tokyo sightseeing tour to keep myself busy. Don't worry about me...at all. Go, get that signature," they smiled as you stood straight again.

"I will," you gave a reassuring breath before turning to open the door. "Love you!" You called back.

"Love you, too!" Seiko's voice lingered in your ears as you shut the door behind yourself. 

You left the hotel early, making sure to reach him before he had the chance to leave on any missions or whatever it was he was up to in the present. Your palms already felt sweaty as you began your journey to Gojo's apartment. You had shoved the papers you needed into your bag, they were folded up tight in the center pouch. 

With a train ride to the other side of downtown and a bit of a walk, you found yourself standing in front of the large building made of glass. You could immediately tell that Gojo was using his wealth to his advantage. You couldn't blame him.

You didn't know much about his parents or his upbringing beside when the two of you would play together as kids. From what you did see of them, they were uptight and sticklers for tradition. But, clearly, parent-less life was suiting Satoru. A part of you couldn't blame him there either.

You walked into the lobby and stared at the resident information board organized by last name to find 'Gojo' listed on one of the higher floors. Of course he'd take no less than something penthouse level. You stared at the black button that would buzz his apartment for a few moments too long. You actually had to step out of the way for another person to buzz an apartment and head in before you worked up the nerve to even press a fingertip to its surface. 

You took a deep breath and pressed down. You thought your heart was beating a million miles a minute but it increased ten-fold when you heard static begin on the intercom. You were about to hear the voice of the man you were once married to, technically still, whom you hadn't seen in three whole years.

"Hello?" Gojo's muffled voice came through sounding a bit skeptical, clearly not expecting visitors. He sounded like his usually cheery, arrogant self, as expected. You were stuck between thinking his personality was charming or irritating.

"Hi," your voice was small as you brought yourself close to the intercom to speak, swallowing hard though your mouth was dry. You spoke lowly so as to not give away the shaking tone of embarrassment.

"Who's this?" He continued with a twinge of playful irritation, you could hear his smile through his speech. Your voice sounded familiar to him, but he just couldn't pinpoint from exactly where with the static interference. 

"It's...Y/N," you hesitated once more, the tone of your voice going down even further when you said your name, as if trying to keep it a secret. 

A loud, obnoxious laugh came through the intercom the minute you finished. "No way!" He chuckled excitedly. "Come on up!"

With that, a sound in the lobby started to buzz with the sound of a lock mechanism unlocking following. It allowed you passage through the set of double doors heading to the elevators. You made sure to give a polite nod to the front desk attendant before continuing on your way.

You boarded the elevator and took it up to his floor, reading the various door numbers until you found his. You took another deep breath before knocking firmly, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. Your eyes darted between the two directions, not wanting to be caught dead in front of his door as if the others that lived there knew you.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing the tall and imposing figure of Gojo Satoru. His trademark cocky grin with all pearly whites showing and his signature, and infinitely annoying, confident aura were as present as ever. He wore a jujutsu tech uniform telling you he was still involved with the school in some form or fashion. What else did you expect? It was just as you had left him and you were quickly reminded of your irritation. 

"Y/N, what brings you here?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe to his flat, staring at you through his dark blindfold. 

His casual, cheery demeanor this early in the morning was maddening. It was almost as if the last time you saw him wasn't at the courthouse to somberly file away what was invalid divorce papers.

"Well," you sighed, your confidence beginning to come back now that you had seen him, your mission in mind, "it turns out we're still married. And," you reached into your bag and handed him the papers you needed signed, "I need you to sign those to finalize everything."

Gojo raised an eyebrow from behind his blindfold; you could see his brow muscle twitch to form the motion. His playful demeanor was clearly never going to waver. 

"Oh, so you've finally decided to give up on me, huh? Well, it's about time." His grin was crooked becoming crookeder as he leaned down to your level and saw the flames building behind your eyes. You didn't like the idea he was implying.

"You were the one who asked in the first place!" You corrected him, this scene of anger vs. playfulness something that was seen often in your conversations with him while married. "I just want this to be over with, Gojo. Sign these so we can put this behind us once and for all," you demanded.

"Yeesh, back on a last name basis then," he muttered as he stood up straight and unfolded the papers that you handed him to give them a quick scan. You hated the way he smiled while reading them over. He was eagerly gripping the pages, nearly wrinkling them in the process.

He snapped his attention back to you with a mischievous glint in his smile. "Sure, I'll sign these, but I've got a condition, Y/N."

You were taken aback though you should've seen something like this coming from a million miles away. You felt your face turning red, heat pooling to the tip of your nose. His arrogance was as exasperating as ever. 

"What's your condition, Gojo?" You caved, not wanting to argue further. If whatever it was was easy, then it was better to oblige him than fight with him.

A triumphant smile spread across his face as he leaned in closer to you once more, close enough that you could nearly smell the minty freshness of his breath. Your palms suddenly felt sweaty again as you felt the heat coming from between your faces, close in proximity. 

"I want a date with you." 

You just about raged as he said that, but he stopped you with a finger to your lips, a hush. You immediately furrowed your brow with even more rage. 

"...Just one," he purred, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing as you hesitantly leaned away from his personal space intrusion. "You and me, dinner, and a chance to catch up."

You swallowed hard at the request. There was no reason for your mouth to be this dry, for you to be this nervous. A 'date' with your ex-husband was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed that he was determined to maintain his self-important and cocky attitude, even in this situation.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine, one night out," you allowed, making sure to change the phrasing. He retracted his body, standing straight once more. "But you sign these papers first."

Gojo chuckled, his arrogance unrelenting. "Not so fast, Y/N. Dinner first, then I'll sign the papers. You won't get off that easily." He seemed to revel in the power play, and you found yourself trapped in his charismatic, yet infuriating, web once again.

"Again," you rolled your eyes while trying not to stutter, "you were the one who asked for the divorce."

Gojo's laughter continued to echo through the hallway. "True," he conceded, "but I never said I didn't enjoy a little game of cat and mouse, Y/N. It's not like we ended things on a bad note and you happily agreed to the divorce. And without hesitation, might I add," he held up a finger. You remained silent with a scowl on your face. "Listen, I may get the better of you, but you like me, right?" He acted normally as the negative expression on your face grew. "Let's catch up!"

You sighed, his demeanor both antagonizing and oddly nostalgic. "Fine, dinner it is. But I expect you to sign the papers after. I'm trying to get married again after all," you crossed your arms and leaned on one leg impatiently. You didn't know why you didn't lead with that in the first place.

Gojo's expression briefly dropped, his usual confident personality faltering for a moment. His eyes widened in surprise unbeknownst to you before he quickly masked his reaction with a smirk. "Well, well, well, Y/N," he said with a hint of his usual playfulness, "you don't waste any time, do you? Who's the lucky one this time?"

You ground your teeth at his question. He knew all the right ways to get under your skin, as he did with many people that knew him. But nonetheless, you decided to answer him.

"Their name is Seiko," you muttered, "and they're none of your business."

Gojo raised an eyebrow again, studying your face for a moment before letting out a low whistle. He knew he could get more out of you at the dinner. "Seems like I've got some competition, huh?"

"No," you quickly answered, glaring at him with all your might.

"Well," he clicked his tongue, "I guess I'll have to wish you the best."

Your mouth quivered into a smile. You could tell that he was being genuine with his last statement. You realized that beneath his hardened, exuberant exterior there might be a single hint of real concern for your happiness. 

"What time?" You found yourself asking without extra thought, the quivering lips you had had turning into the tiniest smile. You internally scolded yourself for even trying to continue that conversation.

"What time for dinner?" Gojo repeated, tilting his chin upward in thought. "Are you free tonight?"

"T-tonight?" It was your turn to repeat. Gojo gave a single nod, still waiting for your answer.  You had made plans with Seiko to go atop the Tokyo Tower later that evening but if getting this dinner over with meant accomplishing your mission, perhaps Seiko would understand. "I guess so."

"Great! Seven?" He tilted his chin downward this time, expectant of another answer. You stared at him angrily. He remembered you well enough to take that look as a 'yes.' "Perfect," he relaxed his smile and placed a hand on his doorknob, the other still holding your divorce papers. "And you're staying...?" You muttered your hotel name in response and then glanced at the pages he still had. "I'll keep these," he lifted them, "for safekeeping," he whispered and slowly shut the door.

"Gojo!" You tried to stop the door from closing, your foot darting out but it was too late. He had already shut and locked the door. "Great," you muttered to yourself. Of course this couldn't be easy. 

[blossombriefs]

Legendary | Chapter Three

"H-hello..."

The burly man mumbled as he hovered over me, pushing himself up to relieve some of the pressure as he breathed heavily with an arm at each side of my body to keep himself propped up. Our breaths mingled as I sank back further into the mossy ground below. With one swish, his jet-black hair unveiled his face to give me a much clearer view of who had come to my aid, his dark eyes looked deeply into mine. His tanned complexion was covered in many scars, I presumed from battle, but his well-structured face looked gentle and friendly, glowing softly in the newly formed sunlight. His body was covered in a skin-tight black turtleneck that gripped against every muscle on his torso. A metal collar was secured around his neck. I blinked in confusion as I looked up at him, struggling to form a sentence in return. How could the man who just saved my life in an impressive display of power be so... gentle? For once, I felt confused, feeling overcome with an array of emotions rushing me at once.

"You're..." he stuttered, holding his position. "You're..."

"I'm..?"

He lifted his arm from the grass underneath me, running the back of his hand down my cheek slowly as he tilted his head. I didn't flinch but I did shuffle a little out of discomfort at his touch. He smiled to me gently but something about his next choice of words sent a chill down my spine. 

"You're just like me... aren't you?" 

His voice carried so much weight, laced with a hint of sorrow and understanding. There was an almost familiar feeling as I stared up at the gentle giant. What did he mean? Could he sense how impressive my power was? After seeing how he had handled my peer, I didn't want to engage in battle with him, especially given my injured condition. Was this what fear felt like? No. It felt more like common sense. The man climbed off me, extending his hand down to help me up to his feet. I shrugged him off, shaking my head but smiling gently towards him to assure him I'd be fine on my own. He pointed to himself, smiling in a manner that matched mine. "Broly."

I titled my head as I looked at him, "Is that your name?"

He nodded in response, turning his hand so his index finger pointed back toward me next. "You?"

"Captain 4 Alpha 1 of the Frieza Force," I responded. He quickly shook his head in response.

"That isn't a name."

"Well it's my name," I said as I rolled my eyes, brushing my hands down my armour once again to get any dust off. My eyes darted to the grass under my feet, catching a glimpse of the broken scouter that lay in pieces on the ground. "And speaking of Frieza, I have absolutely no way of getting off this wasteland."

"Hey!" Broly yelled, the sudden change of volume and intensity of his voice catching me off guard. A simple pout could be seen on his face as I looked up, "It's not a wasteland, it's my home!"

I shot him a simple glance as I crouched down to scoop up the broken pieces in my hands, "Believe me Broly, it's apparent you haven't been off this god-forsaken rock. It is a wasteland. No one on my team even had any idea of what this place was. Frieza himself barely knew anything about it."

"Frie... za..." I heard Broly mutter to himself.

"You're quite a simple being aren't you Broly?"

Again he furrowed his eyebrows toward me and pouted once more, "If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead. Don't be mean."

"I-" I was caught off guard by his sharp-tongued remark, "I-I would've been fine actually!"

"No you wouldn't have," he responded stoicly as he folded his arms. "You would've been dead. I saw the attack. He would've killed you."

"No, he wasn't! I would've got my gun! I-"

"You don't have to lie to me. You can say thank you. You don't have to be embarrassed about needing help." He stepped beside me, this time keeping his gentle smile. With a nudge of his head, he motioned for me to follow him. "Follow me. I can fix you up. Are you okay to walk?"

I obliged, nodding my head. I could feel myself letting the obvious stubbornness take a backseat for once. I needed all the help I could get, Broly knew that as well as I did. I let him take the lead, I piled the broken scouter pieces into my pocket as I kept a steady pace beside him. Vampa truly was a wasteland, I took in the dense foliage as Broly guided me through a seemingly familiar route he had of the planet I was so unfamiliar with. There was something about him that ensued trust and safety in me yet there was so much mystery I wondered if I would get to uncover. Internally, I couldn't help but think about what he had said earlier. What did he mean when he said I was just like him?

As we both ventured deeper into the wilderness, I could feel eyes on me from all angles of the woods as I felt myself start to trail behind. Broly seemed unphased as he continued to lead the way. I looked around, keeping my hand on my holster as a precaution. My eyes darted around the trees, making it apparent that we were indeed being watched but not by any people, but instead by Vampa's unique creature that inhabited the area. The sound of hissing and growling trickled through the silence. I could see everything from strange bird-like creatures chirping to bear-like beasts growing as they looked at us like fresh meat. Unsure of how friendly these creatures truly were I picked up the pace so I was flush to Broly's side. I felt protected as he was focused solely on guiding us to safety. Finally, we arrived at a small clearing where the surrounding trees masked a makeshift shack. 

"We're here. This is my home." Broly simply announced, his voice housing a touch of pride. It was obvious he had built this little home himself from leftover debris from an old spaceship. The metal and wood were combined to make the walls, and an old panel was hinged up to be used as a door. The trees made it hard to spot as the colours blended in. He pushed the door open with his left hand, extending his right to me to greet me inside. "Here, you can rest and heal as long as you need to."

I walked ahead. I couldn't lie, I was very grateful for his hospitality. After everything I had gone through, rest and recuperation was the only thing  I craved. Broly was quick to direct himself to his crate of supplies that was nearing emptiness, pulling out some medicine and bandages along with a cold compress for my cheek that still raged red. He tended to my injuries with a great deal of knowledge and a surprising amount of gentleness, his hands steady as he ensured my ribs were taped up.

"Broly?" I whispered, allowing myself to sit back on the chair he had instructed me to relax on. He looked up as he finished up the bandages, a blank expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"Th-thank you."

Next Chapter Chapter List

[str0l0gy]

AUN ENAMORADOS : YANG JUNGWON

“I’M STILL WAITING FOR YOU.”

IN WHICH he wonders what it would’ve been like if you were still in love with him.

GENRE angst, jungwon x gn!reader

WARNINGS & DISCLAIMERS implications of drinking, not proofread, rushed

THE AWKWARD silence in the car ate you alive. Jungwon sat in the driver’s seat with his attention towards the dark road, trying not to look at your direction — even though he really wanted to. Your body was turned the opposite way of him, you distracting yourself with the tiny stars and the buildings you passed by. The hairs on your arm stood up at the harsh air from the AC blowing at it. You rubbed your arm as an attempted to warm yourself up. This action caught Jungwon’s attention as he turned his eyes towards your direction for a split second before keeping them on the road.

“Are you cold?” His hand reached forwards, lowering the AC temperature, his sudden voice caused you to jump. “Sorry.”

You nodded and continued to look out the window. Those words are the first words that had come out of his mouth during the whole car ride.

You mentally cursed your friends for putting you in this uncomfortable situation. You were involuntarily put in this spot because no one else was willing to give you a ride home from the bar. Jungwon was the only person who was in the right conditions at that time so they pushed you into his car and told him to take you home. The view of your house came at a distance, and a wave of relief hit you, but it was quickly stopped when Jungwon spoke up again. Pulling over to your house, he parked the car. Not knowing why he did it, you looked over at him — only to be met with his sad eyes.

“Can we talk? Please?” He pleaded, but had already gotten out of your car. Upon hearing his request, you stopped yourself from going further and signaled him to come out of the car.

You stood still as a sign that you were listening. He nodded and quickly started, “There’s no right way to start this conversation… but I still love you, Y/N. And I think I always will. I needed to get that off my chest first.”

“Jungwon-” You started, but quickly interrupted when you heard his sob.

You eyes widened at the sound, but he still continued, “Please, let me finish.”

“I know we broke up a year ago, and I know we’re starting our careers now, but I still think about our past… and what our future would’ve been like if we were still together, if our plans would’ve been fulfilled by now. You are my first love, Y/N, I don’t want to let got of you ever. So, I’ll keep waiting for you, even if it hurts me. I’ll still wait for you, no matter what.”

The sight of him tugged at your heartstrings, threatening to pull it apart once again. His lips trembled as he spoke at an attempt to suppress his sobs. His head shook in passion while he spoke his thoughts to you. Your chest felt heavy. The Moon shone on his face as his tears reflected the light towards you.

“I still have your pictures on my phone. The one of us in our high school prom. Our pictures from pre-school. I still have them all. I tried so hard to delete them, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Just like I can’t get over you…”

His eyes met yours, “No one comes close to you, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me…” Your eyes left his when you stared up to avoid your tears from flowing.

“I’m leaving, Y/N, and I’m not coming back. So, this is my last goodbye to you before I leave.”

There it was: the final tug before your heart broke into a million pieces.

“What?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You could move on with your life, and I’ll pursue my dreams as I wait for you…” He took ahold of you hand, planting one last kiss before leaving you on the sidewalk in front of your house.

When he finally drove off, you sobbed into your hands. Your legs felt weak, barely holding your weight up. Jungwon kept driving. Not daring to look back as it implied that he could forget you, but he could never forget you. Your angelic voice and presence would never leave his memory. It’s locked up — safe and protected from everything — just like it deserved to be. The memory of you belonged in a museum as it was love in the form of art.

From that night on, you never saw him again. He was left with the hopes of finding you, but he still waited for the very end.

[vincite-noctem]

A/N: Typed this on my phone, because Jonathan Crane is bbg and I had a random idea that grew into a short little story thing. It's written in third person because I'm trying the style out for myself. The MC knows of Jonathan's business as Scarecrow and the toxin.

Summary: She is the second in command of Arkham, working side by side with Jonathan Crane. When Rachel Daws doubts Crane's diagnose of Falcone's insanity, she asks Y/n for a second professional opinion on the matter. She may not be corrupted by Falcone, but other, arguably higher forces impact her honesty in the matter...

Warnings: mention of blood, lying to authorities, Jonny is a bit of an idiot because he can't figure out that r! has feelings for him.

words: 1430

A dull knock resonates from the wooden door to Jonathan Crane's office. He stares angrily at the frosted glass pane and the silhouette of the person vaguely visible through it.

"What could be important enough to get on my nerves with at this late hour? Make it quick, I don't have all the time in the world."

The door opens, and through the thin crack slips a female figure, clearly recognizable by the usual dark garb she tends to wear - black turtleneck shirt and gray slacks. In her hand she holds a small medical kit.

"You don't have to take your frustration out on me," she says snappishly and takes a seat in the chair opposite his office chair, the med kit on her lap.

"Y/n, what's your concern?" he asks, his questioning gaze fixed on the small black bag on her lap. "I've got a lot to do, and really no time for any little games."

She sighs. "Daws asked me to do a second diagnosis on Falcone. She doesn't trust you, but she thinks me trustworthy enough because I'm one of the few people he hasn't bought into yet. She also wants a blood test to make sure you didn't drug him," she explains quietly.

"So, what is that supposed to tell me now? My second-in-command is going to rat me out to the authorities and take my place, and I'll spend the rest of my days in the pokey-"

"No." she interrupts him, "Just listen to me first. I need you to draw my blood." She sets the first-aid kit on the table.

"Why should I draw your blood?" He doesn't seem to fully grasp her train of thought.

"So I can switch up the samples. I'll take Falcone's sample later in the presence of Daws, and then evaluate it down in the lab. I'll switch the two samples, and run the tests on my own blood. You know your toxin would show up on the lab results, we determined that weeks ago. There are no substances in my blood, I have no pre-existing conditions that would show up in the results, everything looks completely normal. If I give her those lab results, plus the diagnosis of his mental illness, then she can't present anything else to the court and he stays here."

At the end of her brief monologue, she rolls up the long sleeve of her black shirt and holds out her arm to him, the pale skin of the crook of her arm turned upward.

Jonathan looks at her closely, his blue eyes sparkling insistently behind the narrow lenses of his glasses.

"And what do you get out of Falcone staying here? Why are you helping him?"

She shakes her head vigorously. "You need to understand me. I'm doing this for you, Jonathan. If his blood test is clean and my diagnosis is the same as yours, it will spare your reputation and save you from discredit and jail. So, take my blood now, I have an appointment with Daws in ten minutes."

She pushes the first aid kit further in his direction. He caves and reaches for it, pulls the sterile gloves over his hands, and disinfects the crook of her arm before carefully sticking the needle into her vein. Y/n watches intently as the ruby red liquid drips into the test tube until it reaches the fill line and Jonathan pulls the needle out under pressure. He closes the tube and she sticks the label with Falcone's name on it before carefully sliding it into her pocket. She pulls the sleeve of her shirt back down to hide the puncture site and stands up.

"Fine. I'll be on my way, it would be counterproductive if someone sees me coming out of your office," she mumbles and turns to leave. She is already standing at the door with the handle in her hand when he finally says something again.

"Why are you doing this, Y/n?"

As she looks back at him over her shoulder, their gazes meet. She is unable to hide anything from the intense blue of his eyes - at least she thought so until now. Her voice is soft as she answers.

"You have no idea, huh? You're an intelligent man, Jonathan. Think."

With these words, she leaves his office and quickly darts away like a shadow, towards a completely different wing of Arkham. Covering Tracks. Jonathan quickly disposes of the medical kit, dropping it into the bottom drawer of the small cabinet next to his desk. All the while, his thoughts run a mile a minute. What is Y/n's motive in this? What does she get out of helping him in this situation, what advantage does it have for her?

Y/n, meanwhile, is punctual as a stopwatch when she arrives outside the cell Falcone is situated in at the moment. Rachel Daws is already there, briefcase in her hand, staring through the smudged window into the interior. Y/n puts on her therapeutic smile, the one that earned her the reputation as Arkham's soft psychiatrist, the kind young goody two shoes, who has no other thoughts than helping the poor patients in her care. How deceiving a smile can be, she thinks.

"Ms. Daws, I suppose you'll come into the room with me? Or do you prefer to wait out here?"

The prosecutor shakes her head and says in the weighty tone she seems to automatically adopt while executing her legal business, "No no, I stayed here to monitor the whole thing. I'll come with you."

Y/n just nods sympathetically and opens the heavy steel door with the sleek key card. She thanks herself for the nerves of steel she had developed from working at Arkham Asylum. If she didn't have them, her hands would surely be shaking like aspen leaves with nervousness. She takes the blood from Falcone with practiced movements, sticks the label on the test tube and puts it in her pocket. Daws immediately protests and asks to personally bring the sample forward for safekeeping on the way down to the lab. Y/n, who had already expected this, hands her the test tube - the wrong one, of course, having already mixed up the two samples in her bag without Daws noticing.

"Of course. I beg your pardon Ms. Daws, it's a force of habit," she says placatingly.

The two women make their way downstairs to the lab, where Y/n examines the sample under Rachel Daws' watchful eye and evaluates the results. Fifteen minutes later, she hands the results to the prosecutor in writing. All the values of the test are completely normal, nothing indicates that Falcone is under the influence of any substance.

"Ms. Daws, under these circumstances, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do but declare Falcone mentally incompetent. I am sorry. I will fax the report in writing to your office tonight." The psychiatrist says, and sincere displeasure resonates in her voice. Of course she wants to see Falcone behind bars, the man is a smug pig and an absolute monster. Except that in this case, however, Jonathan's career directly hangs in the balance, and if she has to choose one of those things, it's without a doubt Jonathan. The frustration on the young prosecutor's face is clearly visible as she resignedly accepts the lab results and lets them disappear into her files.

"Thank you anyway, Dr. L/n." she says quietly, and turns to leave with a nod.

"I hope they can still charge him with enough than he's going to Blackgate." Y/n calls after her. She's unsure if the lawyer hears her, because she doesn't get any more replies. Alone in the lab, she sighs and leans against the table, her head hanging back and her eyes closed against the cold light of the old fluorescent tubes.

Shortly after, she begins to clean the work surface and equipment, wiping them down with saline solution and then disinfecting them first with ethanol, then with hydrogen peroxide, and placing them on one of the numerous perforated trays to drain. The door behind her opens, and she feels a familiar, inquisitive look at her back.

"Why did you do this, y/n? Why are you risking all this for me? You know who I am, what I do. Why?"

[sublimecatgalaxy]

I really loved loved loved loved loved your Dangerous Woman fic (I miss when Euphoria was so hyped) so I wanted to request a Fezco x dealer!reader?

I just think it's so badass and hot- ugh. Love it.

Oh thank you so much for your kind words! I've been getting so much love lately from my anons- I literally love all of you. Dangerous Woman is one of my favorite fics too, I love it with all of my heart- it's my baby.

"You again?" Fez asks, stepping further past me and into my apartment with an exasperated sigh and I smirk, taking a second to peak out into the night, making sure he wasn't followed or tagged.

"Nice to see you too, Fezco." I chuckle, locking the door before turning to look at him with a simple tilt of my head.

It's been almost two months since we've seen each other, normally seeing each other in business type situations but the last interaction was anything but business. I can still feel the way that his hands felt against my hips, the way his lips felt against mine and- based on the look in his eyes as he stares at me from across the room- I can tell he feels it too.

"Since your punk of a brother killed my boss, I've had to step up and put on my big boy pants." I toy with the waistband of my sweatpants teasingly as I step up to my table, slipping down into the seat before motioning for him to sit down across from me. He does what I say and splays his hands out on the table in front of me, further distracting my mind from the wads of cash and drugs strewn out across the table.

"Yeah, well they suit you." He flirts with a sheepish blush on his cheeks.

"Thanks, big boy." I sigh, clasping my hands beneath my chin. "So what can I do for you today?"

"I need you to spot me some molly. There's a fuckin' party tonight and Ash wants to sell." He explains and I scoff, looking around expectantly.

"Why isn't Ash here then?"

"I think he's afraid of you." Fez laughs, leaning back in his chair as his knees spread tantalizingly, my eyes trying so desperately to not look down at his thighs that I've spent so much time thinking about.

"Really?" I ask with a cute tilt of my head.

"Damn right." He nods with a proud smile, crossing his arms across his chest as my mouth waters, eyes tracing the dips of his biceps. "As he should be. You're fucking scary, man." Fez scoffs and my brows raise, my aching heart swelling with pride at his compliment.

He's not a man of many words so when his words kind and thoughtful, it means something.

"Yeah well, there's not many female dealers out there. I need to give them a name." I explain but he just shakes his head, understanding that Lori and I are the only ones around here who are even recognized as actually accredited dealers and not just random 'bits of ass' used by the male dealers.

Yes, I've actually been called that.

"You're doing a damn good job." I forget for a moment, after looking into his eyes for too long, that he's here for business and that he's, sadly, not here to flatter me like he would probably like to.

"Thanks Fezco." I smile, eyes flickering away from his own so he can't see right through my tough exterior into the interior that's completely and utterly soft for him (and his little brother though you'd never catch me admitting that. "I can spot you some molly. On one condition."

"Anythin', I'm desperate, dude." He leans towards me, biceps stretching the fabric of his t-shirt in a way that has my head spinning, my previous snarky comment thrown out the window. Fucking ass.

"You owe me dinner." I stutter out, clearing my throat to disguise the crack in my voice. Fez's eyebrows sky rocket, a cocky smile slipping across his lips and he nods as if he's processing.

"Is that right?" He teases and I immediately roll my eyes, trying to brush his joking demeanor off and I prepare myself for possible rejections. "You like Chinese?" His questions, though, restores all anxiety that I had in that brief moment of insecurity, my eyes widening in excitement.

"Of course I do." I respond breathlessly, pushing bags full of molly across the table towards him and he sends me a wink.

"I'll pick you up at eight."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[masterjasper223]

Then and Now - Blood Moon

(Warnings: underage sex, period sex, angst)

Lupin Then

Dating a werewolf wasn't something to romanticise, but that wasn't to say it didn't come with its advantages.

For one, no one had more sympathy for you when you were on your period. Remus knew all too well what it was like to have to deal with something painful month after month, something that many of your classmates were blissfully exempt from, yet would most likely be repulsed to hear about.

In fact, you were acutely aware that Remus had it worse on every score, especially the latter; his "condition" was a very well kept secret at Hogwarts, and his education was only able to continue for as long as it remained as such.

But somehow, you'd never expected him to understand all of it: the cravings, the sudden drop in self esteem, the bursts of emotion- from irritation, to sadness, to feeling suddenly... well, unbelievably horny.

Yet as it turned out, you were wrong.

********************************************

It's Sunday afternoon, and the two of you are studying together in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Or, rather, that had been the plan, before you'd woken up with the tell-tale discomfort in your lower abdomen.

There's little chance of your being productive today, but you decided to join Remus anyway, vaguely hoping that you'd absorb a few scraps of revision just by being in proximity to him.

But even those prospects are looking grim, as you have yet to summon the energy to open your textbook, and are currently slumped across the desk with your cheek pressed into the faded leather cover.

"Remus... Why do you have to be so handsome?" you sigh, staring vacantly at his profile. Something about the way his brows knit together when he's concentrating is very alluring all of a sudden.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Remus replies, a little testily. To his credit, he's actually trying to get some work done, and has already filled half of the roll of parchment in front him.

"I want to study," you grumble. "But I got my period this morning."

Remus pauses mid-scrawl, shooting you a sympathetic glance. "Then I really am sorry. But you'll be all right if you skip a day or two- I'll give you a copy of my notes to go over later."

"Thanks, Remus," you say, smiling up at him affectionately.

He clears his throat, and shakes his hair out of his eyes in that twitchy sort of way that tells you he's feeling self-conscious, before starting writing again- but he's barely jotted down two words before his quill stops on the page.

"Hang on. What does my being handsome have to do with anything, then?" he demands, shooting you a sideways glance.

"Because I'm horny," you whine, watching with some satisfaction as a flush creeps up your boyfriend's neck. "But since I'm on my period, we can't... you know..." You walk your fingers up his arm, searching for the right expression. "...play around." You haven't actually had sex yet, but you've gone a bit further than snogging on more than one occasion.

"Why not?" Remus asks, hoarsely. His quill slides from between his fingers and rolls to the side of his notes, where it lies dripping ink, forgotten.

"Because we'd make a mess, of course. Not to mention, I'm in pain." You grimace, massaging your belly under the desk. "And I don't feel very sexy today."

To your surprise, Remus offers you a wry smile and says, "Ah. That sounds familiar."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The pain, I've told you about. But leading up to the full moon, I'm- something of a mess. Less so now than I used to be, but I still can't stand to see myself in the mirror, and I get... cravings."

"Me, too!" you say, sitting up and swivelling around in your chair to face him. "I crave chocolate worse than if I'd been hounded by dementors."

"I crave red meat," Remus admits. "And, er... human contact."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "You mean you get horny, too?"

Remus nods, his cheeks now very pink. "But I wouldn't want to do anything about it," he says, quickly, glancing away. "I can't. I don't trust myself." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and you're surprised to find that there's a mischievous spark in his eyes when they flick back to yours. "But it's different in your case. Very different."

"How so?" you ask, a little more sharply than you had intended. You can't help but feel that that's rather presumptuous of him.

"Well, for one, this is the safest time of the month for you to have sex," he points out. "And for another, according to- certain sources- it might just be one of the best times."

You understand 'certain sources' to mean the debauched experiences of Sirius Black.

"At the very least, it could provide some temporary relief," Remus continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs with a wince.

"Are you suggesting we...?"

"Well... yes. I mean, only if you want to."

You smirk at him, but a split-second later all of your confidence evaporates. "You wouldn't find it a turn-off?"

"Of course not. I've seen blood before."

"It's not just the blood. I'm..." you trail off, hugging your stomach, reluctant to put too fine a point on it.

"It won't change how sexy I find you," Remus murmurs, gently. "But if you're uncomfortable, we can wait."

You consider for a moment, weighing your options... but with your heart racing, and desire already pooling in your belly, drowning out the pain, it doesn't take you long to make up your mind.

"If you're sure... I mean, I'd like to." You reach across and place your hand on Remus's knee. He stiffens for a moment, swallowing thickly, before laying his fingers over yours and giving them a squeeze. "But where? When?"

Remus glances around the empty classroom. "Not here- we won't be able to relax. There's always the Astronomy Tower, no one goes up there during the day..." He pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "But I, er, think I can arrange for the boys' dormitory to be empty for a few hours. Tonight, if you like."

"Tonight, then," you agree, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

*********************************************

It's not your first time in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and it won't be your last. As promised, the two of you are alone- which is why you're sitting on the end of Remus's four-poster, with your thighs wrapped around his hips, and his arms wrapped around your back, snogging as if your lives depend upon it.

But when you reach between your bodies to grasp his cock through the fabric of his robes, Remus squeezes your waist and draws back, panting, his lips flushed from kissing you and his eyes bright with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, eyes flicking between yours. You nod impatiently, tugging at the front of his robes. "Okay," he chuckles. "Just- tell me if you want to stop."

"You, too," you say, sucking in a big breath before crashing your lips against his. But you're not content with snogging anymore. While Remus's hands cup your cheeks, yours begin to wander, raking down his back and chest, squeezing his biceps and hips, before slipping under the hem of his robes.

The second your fingers close around the hard length straining at his boxers, Remus's fingers are on your bare thighs, hitching your own robes up to your hips, as if he's been waiting for permission to touch you all this time.

"Robes- off-" you manage, in between kisses, and you part just long enough to allow Remus to tug your robes over your head, and to help him do the same. A moment later, your bra joins the pile of robes on the floor. Then he stands up- your legs tighten instinctively around his hips- and lays you down on your back on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows in order to get a good look at you.

"What about the blood?" you ask, breathlessly, plucking at the quilt underneath you.

"That's what scouring charms are for," he says, grinning as he nuzzles your cheek.

Your answering giggle turns into a gasp as his warm hands slide along your bare skin. Remus licks and sucks at your neck as his fingers explore every inch of you, relishing in the little hums and moans you make for him, until he works up the courage to remove the last scraps of fabric separating you from him. Then he begins massaging your inner thigh as he kisses his way down your neck, fingers trembling and blood pounding in his ears.

"Remus... Aren't you forgetting something?" you pout, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he chuckles nervously before kicking them off.

But soon all trace of nerves are gone as you start pumping him in your closed fist, and he becomes putty in your hands, weeping precum into your palm, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them apart.

"Can I- try something?" he asks, squeezing your wrist with shaking fingers to get you to stop. You nod, releasing him, and lick your lips, wondering what he has in store for you.

Remus takes a moment to admire you again as he settles back on his haunches, before slowly lifting your thighs, spreading them, and positioning himself at your entrance. But instead of sliding in, he begins swirling his tip around your slit.

Fuck, that feels good.

You're so warm and slick that the tip of his cock slips in by mistake, and dips in and out of you without any resistance. You're even more sensitive than usual, and the extra moisture feels so delicious on the head of his cock that within minutes the two of you are twitching spasmodically, on the verge of release. Neither of you is going to last long, but as you watch Remus bite down on his lip, and his Adam's apple bob as he moans low in his throat, suddenly you don't care.

"Remus- please..." Your breath catches- you can't think of anything more to say- and a moment later you've stopped thinking altogether as he fills you for the first time.

It's bliss, pure and simple. Even more so when he begins to move, snapping his hips back and forth, creating delicious, slippery friction. You fit him like a glove, but even though you're tight around him he has to be careful only to pull out halfway, in case he slips out.

You can tell that exercising this control is costing Remus a lot; his brows are knitted together in concentration, as if he's studying a particularly tricky revision question, and sweat is trickling down his naked chest.

He's watching you, too; his eyes flick between your face and the place where your bodies are joined, enraptured at the sight of you beneath him. You can feel him drinking it all in: your spread thighs, your trembling breasts, your flushed cheeks and messy hair...

He groans your name, and that's when you feel a throb- a throb so deep within your core, and so unlike anything you've ever felt, that at first you're not sure if it's coming from him or you. Then you feel a tug behind your navel, not unlike the sensation of using a portkey, followed by a flood of wetness between your thighs as a fresh wave of bliss washes over you. Remus's fingers dig into your skin, and he bucks his hips several times before collapsing on top of you and burrowing his face into your neck.

You lie like that for a long time, just holding each other, revelling in one another's warmth; though you can't help but fidget a little, as slick drips from your slit, and his soft cock, still inside you, begins to firm up again, making your sensitive walls tingle.

You wonder if he'll want to go again- wonder if you could even handle it- but eventually Remus pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, propping his chin on one fist. Gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers, "How do you feel?"

"So good." The ache in your belly is gone, and every last muscle in your body seems to sigh with contentment at your release.

"Well, that answers my next question," Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll have to clean up soon."

"Just a bit longer..." you groan, nuzzling your face into his chest. You're already dreading the walk back to your dormitory.

"Of course. I don't mind." He rolls the quilt over you and tucks it under his arm, pressing you more firmly against him. "But- best not stay too long if you want those revision notes. I, er, didn't get much done after our talk earlier."

*******************************************

You're both so spent that neither of you notices the door click shut behind you, or hears the whispered exchange between James and Sirius as they tiptoe down the stairs to the common room.

"Moony, you beast..."

"You owe me ten galleons, Prongs."

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

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

Lupin Now

When you open the door, Remus is more surprised than you- but then, Dumbledore had told you to expect him.

Clearly, Remus had not been so well informed.

His eyes fly wide, and he whispers your name like a prayer- before quickly clearing his throat, as if to erase it. "Er, how are you?" he asks, with all the forced politeness one uses when addressing a total stranger.

"I'm all right, Remus. Or should that be Professor Lupin?" you tease, managing a grin in spite of the ache in your chest.

"Just Remus, now," he says, returning the smile a little stiffly. "My teaching career was rather short-lived, I'm afraid."

Ah. Perhaps you're not as well informed as you'd thought.

"Well, come in," you say, throwing the door wide. "I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can catch up a bit before we get down to business."

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise Remus isn't following you, and turn to see him framed in the doorway, staring at his feet. Without meeting your gaze, he mutters, "I'm... not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Remus swings his arms, and inspects the frayed sleeve of his robes, clearly stalling for time. In fact, you get the distinct impression that he's searching for an excuse. Finally, he says, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" you echo. You feel a sharp twist in your stomach, and something hot and prickly claws at your throat. "Disappoint me?" you repeat, louder this time. "After all these years, that's what you say to me?"

He flinches, and his face twists as if he's in pain, but he still doesn't look at you.

That does it.

You storm up to him, yank on his sleeve, and, the second he's over the threshold, shove him against the wall next to the door, which slams shut of its own accord. Remus doesn't fight you- in fact, he barely reacts at all- but he does place a hand on your shoulder, as if he's determined to keep you at arm's length.

It's insulting. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to draw your wand.

"When you cut me out of your life the second we left Hogwarts, do you think I was disappointed? When you made sure none of my owls could find you, do you think I was disappointed? When you tried to get me kicked out of the Order, do you think I was disappointed? When I had to hear about James, and Lily, and Peter, and Sirius second-hand, do you think I was disappointed? Do you? Because I wasn't disappointed! I was bloody heartbroken!"

Silence hangs in the air between you.

Then Remus looks up, and finally meets your eyes. "I am sorry," he says. He pauses for a moment, as if to let the words sink in, before continuing, "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was necessary to protect you. It was a foolish notion. I see that now- and I regret it.

"But at the time, I thought that it was right, and that that fact alone justified the pain I was causing you. It was selfish of me. I told myself I was sacrificing my happiness for your safety, when in reality, I was sacrificing your happiness for my peace of mind." He gently squeezes your shoulder, and tries to extract himself from your grip. "I have no intention of asking for your forgiveness. The fact that I tried to avoid this conversation proves that I am a coward. Once we've concluded our business here, I'll make sure you never have to hear from me ag--"

You push him back against the wall, cutting him off. His arms fall limply to his sides.

"I can't believe you. You're about to make the same mistake all over again!"

Still holding your gaze, Remus takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "This is diff--"

"No, it isn't! You're making it seem like you're doing this for me, but this isn't what I want! I've never..." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurs to you, and your fingers curl reflexively into the front of his robes. "Unless... it's what you want?"

He hesitates for only a fraction of a second before answering. "It is."

The words pierce your heart like shards of ice- but you have to be sure. Swallowing thickly, your eyes desperately searching his, you force your numb lips to form the question. "You... don't want to be with me... like we used to... anymore?"

Remus stiffens, and you could swear you feel his pulse skip under your fingers. But his reply is as cold as it is resolute. "No."

"I... I see."

Your heart drops like a stone in your chest. You're not sure if he's being honest with you, but you decide that it doesn't matter anymore. If this is how he wants it, then so be it. You've made up your mind, as well- on two counts.

The first, you retrieve from its clever hiding place in your kitchen. It's a delicate charm bracelet, from which dangle three tiny phials, each brimming with a pearly substance that is neither gas nor liquid. You grab Remus's hand, still hanging limply by his side, and coil it into his palm.

"This is everything I can tell you about the Department of Mysteries. I hope it helps."

Now your Order business is concluded.

As for the second count...

You wait until Remus has tucked the phials safely into his briefcase. Then you splay a hand on his stomach, and spear him with a look so intense that you feel him freeze up under your fingertips.

"When was your last time?"

It takes Remus half a second to catch your meaning. When it dawns on him, his mouth forms a small 'o', and at length he replies, so quietly that you have to read the words off of his lips to make them out, "Seventh year. Right before the end-of-term feast."

Your answer exactly.

So, he hasn't had anyone since you, either. Which means- if your memory of his libido is anything to go by- Remus must be as touch-starved as you are.

"Spend the night."

To your surprise, he places a hand over the one splayed on his stomach. You lace your fingers with his, and he doesn't pull away.

"Please."

But then Remus laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "I cant. Tonight's the full moon." He cups your cheek with his free hand, and his thumb strokes the fullness of your lower lip. "I'll have to lock myself away."

You sigh and lean into his touch, wishing you could be there for him, that he didn't have to go through it alone. But you know he wouldn't want you to see him in that form. So instead of offering, you ask, "Do you have the potion with you?"

He answers with a curt nod. You can't help but notice that his hands still haven't left you.

He wants you.

No, scratch that- he needs you. You can see it in his eyes. Try as he might to hide it, you know that look all too well.

But you also know that he doesn't trust himself enough to be close to anyone right before the full moon. You never did make love during the week leading up to the transformation; he was always careful to put some distance between the two of you, and you respected that distance, knowing that he would close the gap the moment the lunar cycle began anew.

The question is, what will Remus say now? He's already denied himself the chance to be with you. Will he really deny himself this, as well?

You lick your lips, deciding to make this your final push. You've made up your mind- it's time for him to make up his.

"It's still early. You could stay until you need to take it, then disapparate. Or... we could make it quick."

He hesitates. The fingers laced with yours spasm, as if he's on the verge of pulling them away- but his other hand betrays him, thumb gently tugging on your lower lip.

"Do you still remember our first time?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

"Of course," Remus says, a little too quickly. A flush creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat before continuing. "We were... rather irresponsible." He swallows, and his eyes briefly dart down to your mouth, before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "I suppose nothing's changed."

And, without giving you a chance to process this, he crashes his lips to yours.

There's no preamble, no more hesitation. Your tongues dance, and your fingers waste no time in getting reacquainted with every inch of skin they can reach; seeking out the similarities, and revelling in the changes.

This Remus isn't all that different from the one in your memory, except for his features,(he's aged quite a bit), and the fact that he's a little underweight for his stature. He also has more scars than you remember, more lean muscle, too; and he's bigger, in more ways than one.

You've probably changed more than he has, and you feel his calloused palms and fingers appreciate every last detail, everything that you are- everything that you've become in his absence.

Remus is the first to strip, kicking off his shoes and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear off his robes. Yours come off next, and any remaining scraps of fabric are left in place, to be pulled roughly aside whenever they get in the way.

You throw your arms around his neck, and he picks you up at the waist, spinning you around to press your back against the wall. Squeezing his hips with your thighs, you reach in between your bodies to grip his cock, pulling back just enough to be able to watch his expression as you touch him. Remus's eyes are dark with lust, his breathing ragged- you've never seen such a look of intense desire.

And it's all for you.

Biting your lip, you rub the head of his cock around your slit. He's painfully hard, leaking precum onto your palm. It feels so good- even better than you remember. You could come for him, just like this.

But Remus groans and clutches your wrist. "Mmph. Best stop that- if you want me to last."

So you lean up and brush your nose against his, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing his tongue with yours as you slowly fill yourself up with his cock. You're dripping wet for him, so it doesn't hurt, and any twinge of discomfort is quickly drowned out by the pleasure of being stretched.

It starts off slow, as Remus matches every thrust with a sweet kiss, a sweet caress- but it's not long before you find yourself bouncing up and down on his cock.

He fucks you senseless, and you ride him for all you're worth. It's like you're venting your frustrations together- or maybe on each other. But there's no anger or hatred between the two of you; just understanding. Longing. Need. Years and years of it, pent-up and begging for release.

It's delicious. Intoxicating. He fills you to the brim, rubbing places your fingers could never reach. You come quickly- too quickly- but Remus holds himself back, gently rocking his hips as he kisses you down from your high.

Then he carries you into your bedroom, (the door standing open on your right), and lays you down on the bed. For a heartbeat, you think it's over- that he's just going to leave you there. But then he settles himself on the floor between your legs, tugs your ankles over his shoulders, and buries his face between your thighs.

"Remus- fuck-"

Remus has always been good with his mouth. He's so eager to taste you- so eager to devour you. He kisses your slit, open-mouthed, no differently to how he claimed your lips; spreading your folds with his tongue and swirling it inside you, sucking on your clit...You run your fingers through his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, torn between holding his head in place and pulling it away. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your thighs are shuddering uncontrollably.

Then, just when you think you can't handle it anymore, Remus stands up, rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and slides his cock back inside you.

Your breath hisses through your teeth, but the pain soon fades as he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit and rolling his hips with every thrust.

Finally, you feel a gush of warmth, and Remus judders to a stop, his eyes boring into yours as he groans your name. That's all it takes for you to come undone a second time, and you're still twitching in pleasure as he slumps forward onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him, eyes fluttering closed. It almost feels like you could be back in the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor tower, taking advantage of your alone time in his four-poster.

"I've missed you." The words spill from your lips before you can hold them back, but you instantly regret them as Remus freezes up again.

"I..." There's so much he wishes he could say, but to do so would mean going back on everything he's said, and undoing the choice he made all those years ago. The choice he reaffirmed the instant you answered the door.

So Remus swallows the words he was going to say, and replaces them with, "I have to go."

Even though you knew this was coming, it still hurts. You pull your arms away from him and roll onto your side, hugging yourself instead. Then, without looking at him, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door. "Lock it behind you for me, will you?"

Remus nods and pulls himself to his feet. He ducks out of the room, dresses quickly and cleans himself up with a wave of his wand. Then he comes back in and gently covers you with your duvet.

"Take care," he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You, too."

You hear the front door close, and a faint rap on the wood as Remus taps it with his wand, followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place of its own accord.

Then there's a loud crack, and just like that, he's gone.

[jiamour]

💿 now playing: pushin’ n pullin’

povs: 💗-yn, 🖤-js, 💛-rj, 💙-jn, 🧡-mk, 💜-dh, ❤️-jm, 💚-cl

TRACK 28: bad hair day

guitarist!jisung x reader

a/n: here’s the shittiest written chunk of this fic i could muster, i had exactly 0 time to write it but i’m not letting myself disappear for another year😭 also ignore the pink colour changes

album tracklist

he’s here because of course he is. all tough and angsty in his cutesy apron, decorated with pink and purple icing smears, notably NOT having a bad hair day.

it probably isn’t the best idea to go up to him, he looks busy pretending to busy. it must be hard work to organize a croissant display case that has already been organized, the kind of hard work that needed solitary conditions to complete. it’ll be rude to talk to him and take him away from that, you should probably go the other way.

you need bread though, maybe you could run in and out of the bakery aisle without being noticed. you trace the word bread on the inside of your wrist, making note of its absence for later before deciding to grab it now anyway.

you take a step towards the bread and he starts turns like he’s felt your stare the entire time.

“hey, did you need help finding something-“ jisung asks in his not-so customer service voice which is just his normal voice but flatter and not dripping in artificial charm.

you startle at his attention and he smiles, though it only takes him a couple seconds to fight it off his face.

“oh- hi,” his voice goes high and he contorts back into himself, clearing his throat, “hey, um hi.”

“hi,” you laugh at how awkward he’s being despite suffering the same fate. you gently hit your shopping basket against your thighs as you wait for either of you to say something else.

neither of you were sure how to approach this, was he still your friend even after how things ended with renjun? should you just walk away? slap him?

“how have you been?” you ask, reaching up to your hair to let the psychological warfare begin, “you know, besides the bad hair day.”

“the ba-“ he mutters your words back to himself and self consciously ruffles his bangs though every strand seemingly ends up back in the same spot, “i’ve been okay, just work and band stuff.”

“cool, cool,” you take a whistling breath in through your teeth and wonder how to get out of this situation now that you’ve done what renjun asked.

“it’s really not” he laughs and places the pastry tongs down, “wanna see if i can grab you something free from the back?”

“sure, yeah,” this will give you a chance to overcome this obstacle and grab the bread, “if that’s fine for you to do.”

“of course,” jisung fixes his hair again and walks backwards into a display, he saves the moment with a goofy laugh, “i’ll be right back.”

you nod back and watch as he quickly swings around the counter, his hand lingers on the brick wall that separates the grocery store bakery from the general public’s line of sight. you lunge (walk leisurely) towards the bread, it doesn’t take long to grab the loaf you want so you’re left waiting. for jisung. which is insanely embarrassing and maybe even blasphemous?

his entrance back into your line of sight is considerably less theatrical than his departure. he lazes with his shoulder leaning against the wall, one hand behind his back, the other waving you over.

“a bit to the left,” he says when you’re near him, using his free hand to press against your shoulder and guide you closer to the wall, “this is a blind spot for the cameras.”

“right. very inconspicuous of you,” you joke but lean further into the wall, as if you aren’t in an open plan store with atleast 5 people within 20ft of you.

“very,” he smiles back and shifts so he’s standing up straight, “wanna see a magic trick?”

“as long as it is ends in me getting free food.”

“hold still,” he instructs, reaching the hand he’s been keeping behind his back out straight. he’s clearly ‘hiding’ something behind his index and middle finger but for the sake of the trick you pretend not to notice.

“huh, what’s this? you’ve got something behind your ear?” he says, unable to even take himself seriously.

“skip the foreplay,” you laugh and he playfully glares back.

you can feel his fingers lightly graze over your cheek as they move to gather your hair out of your face to tuck it behind your ear. as he pulls his hand back he lets the treat roll between his fingers so he’s holding it out in front of you.

“i hope you like sugar cookie rejects,” you take the cookie from him and take a bite, some of the baby blue icing crumbling onto the ground.

“i do, thanks.”

you both stand there as you eat your cookie, personally you think he should be holding the conversation right now but he’s just looking at you smiling. it’s honestly getting embarrassing how much he’s smiling, for him, obviously.

“stop looking so happy to see me,” you tease, trying to ease the one-sided tension, “it’s weird.”

“but i am happy to see you,” why does he sound genuine? somethings seriously not right. evil energy everywhere, you need to call donghyuck to do a deep cleanse, “i didnt know if you were going to talk to me again, you know after the- thing.”

“you didn’t try to reach out,” you look down at your shoes.

“would you have answered?”

“no,” you look up again into his eyes, they look a bit sad, which, pathetically, makes you feel bad for him, “but i can be worn down.”

“i don’t want to wear you down princess.”

“don’t call me that,” your usual sternness coming out in a playful whine, which, on the bright side, manages to lighten his mood.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops when he sees someone over your shoulder, “uhhh so yeah, a pack of 12 cookies would be $6.50.”

you got the memo quick as he makes his way back through the divide into the bakery where he leans over the counter to talk with you.

“which ones are your favorite?” you play along and duck down to look at the different cookies in the display case, which happen to unluckily be very minimal.

“i like the chocolate- okay she’s gone,” jisung instantly deflates into the counter, his head resting on top of his hands as he looks up at you.

“your boss?”

“just my manager, but she’s been on my ass lately because i don’t ’take this job seriously’ or whatever.”

“and she’d be right.”

“yeah well-“ he pouts, his cheeks puffing out a little, “she doesn’t need to know that.”

“i hope music works out for you, man.”

“you’re an asshole,” he lifts himself up from the counter and wipes some of the dried icing off his apron, “but thanks.”

a squeak of shoes behind you makes you startle and hit your basket against the display case accidently.

you smile politely at the man waiting behind you before returning your gaze to jisung, “i should go.”

he’s frowning but it fades with a shake of his head, “oh- yeah, alright,” he mutters like he’s clicking back into reality. it almost makes you feel guilty.

you take a step back ready to leave and never look back.

but you cave.

“we should hang out soon,” he lights up again and nods along with you, “you promised me guitar lessons right?”

“yeah- yeah i did,” he smiles so brightly, “see you later princess.”

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

[saintsenara]

do you go with word of god about how tom would have been better off if merope lived and raised him or that it would have been even worse for him and merope would have become infatuated because of his resemblance to tom riddle sr? (Similar to how part of the fandom believes snape would be if harry resembled lily lmao) which of do you think its more interesting route?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i go for the first of the two options - that merope living would have been so much better for wee tom riddle jr. - not because it's what jkr says, but because i tend to loathe any interpretation of merope's character which undermines the fact that so much of her life could have been changed at numerous crucial moments by anyone connected to the wizarding state giving a fuck.

merope is a teenage girl who lives in abject poverty, has a treatable medical condition [exotropia - eyes which stare in different directions] for which she clearly hasn't received any medical care, is denied an education, is subjected to physical violence by her father right there on the canon page, and is implied in canon to be subjected to incestuous sexual violence by her father and/or brother. the state has numerous opportunities to remove her from this experience - when marvolo fails to respond to her hogwarts letter, when bob ogden visits the gaunts - and yet doesn't, and while i don't think that just being taken away from morfin and marvolo would have solved everything, it would have given her the safety to start healing...

i get why the idea of merope as this sinister, unhinged, devouring, unchangeable bundle of malevolence, who would destroy her own son by becoming infatuated with him, is compelling when the genre demands it to be - i've written her as a folk-horror villain myself, and she was perfect for the role - but in fics which aren't intentionally going for that sort of supernatural, dark fairytale, horror-story vibe... i don't think it hits.

merope's great tragedy - much like her son's - is that she is someone capable of and longing for a normal life, but who is denied this by the corrosive forces of grief, poverty, abuse, and indifference and who goes on to perpetuate harm in turn.

as i've said elsewhere, her rape [and we should call it what it is] of tom riddle sr. doesn't actually need to have any undercurrent of sadistic, unhinged infatuation to be both morally abhorrent and canon-coherent - her treatment at her father and brother's hands would hardly have given her an understanding of consent or bodily autonomy [and might also have made her believe that drugging a man until you can totally control him is the only way to prevent him hurting you], while the fact that the state just leaves her on her own after marvolo and morfin are arrested [with - presumably - no income to speak of] means that she can be understood as seeing tom sr. as her only escape from sliding ever further down the ladder of destitution.

does that mean that she didn't also - selfishly - desire tom sr.? absolutely not. it just means that i find it much more interesting when the idea of her wanting him for herself is given equal weight with all the other things in her life which shape her character - and that i also find it much more interesting when these forces are recognised as commonplace, human, and having pretty much nothing to do with magic.

[the state would not - after all - have had to raise a wand in order to unravel the abuse to which she is subjected... since it does this all the time in the real world - and i am definitely a sucker for stories which acknowledge that the greatest flaws in the wizarding world don't depend in the slightest on magic, but on human corruption.]

if she'd survived childbirth - while i'm certainly not suggesting that i think she'd have been a flawless mother, nor that the absence of a wizarding welfare state wouldn't have made their lives incredibly difficult - i think it's legitimately implausible to suggest that she'd have done anything other than love her son as her son [so, without any incestuous vibe].

[her comment - "i hope he looks like his papa" - is, i think, meant as mrs cole takes it - that she recognises that she's someone who isn't conventionally attractive by any means, and that she knows that tom riddle sr. is.]

[ladylooch]

no smut but how about a kinda friends to lovers kempe fic

A/N: Thank you for your request! We know how excited I get about Kempe love! I wrote this when I was feeling yucky, but it actually took my mind off that, which was much appreciated. Because of that I'm going to post now rather than this weekend. Why wait ya know?

Warnings: She is sick- mentions of vomit and puking, swearing, otherwise fluffffffffy, probably typos cause I'm awful at editing under feeling well conditions

Word counts: 2.7k

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

My phone vibrates next to my hand on the bathroom floor where I am bracing my body. I gag, opening my mouth as the vomit spews out. I lurch forward again, dry heaving as my stomach twists in pain. Groping for my phone, I silence the vibration.

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

I know it’s my best friend, Adrian Kempe. I also know he is at my apartment door because I have heard him knocking for the past ten minutes. He is here to pick me up for the Kings Foundation Gala. He originally had planned to bring his girlfriend, but now that she’s an ex, he needed a little arm candy- his words. 

I’m fine with their break up. She was not the one.

I hit ignore on my phone again, then muster every ounce of strength to lift my weak body off the bathroom floor. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and tears form in my eyes. Everything had been fine. I had gotten most of the way ready, just needed to finish with lipstick, then I was set. But my stomach suddenly turned against me. I hadn’t even had time to turn towards the toilet. Instead, the first round filled the sink. That should be fun to clean.

I work my way towards where Adrian is still knocking on my door.

“Hey, you’re scaring me… Look if you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine. Just let me know you’re okay.”

“I am not okay.” I say as I swing the door open. His eyebrows jump up in surprise when he sees me.

“Holy shit.” He lets out a chuckle. “You look-”

“Like shit?” I finish for him. 

“Well, beautiful in that dress.” He murmurs to me. Despite my sloshing stomach, I feel warmth settle in my body. 

“At least someone got to see it.” I respond, leaning against the door for support. I close my eyes against a wave of nausea that has chills rushing down my arms. “I can’t go. I’m puking my entire digestive system out. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t really want to go anyway.” He steps forward to enter my place. I straighten, shaking my head and placing my palms on his shirt. I take in his gray suit and crisp white shirt. He trimmed his beard and his hair is tucked behind his ears, fanning out in blonde Cs to the side. He looks so good. And I can’t let him see me like this.

“No way. This is a war zone. Just go.” His tongue smacks against the roof of his mouth as a dismissal.

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re going to be okay.” 

I open my mouth to protest further, but a heavy wave of nausea crashes into me. I turn, trying to run back towards the bathroom. I don’t make it. I can feel Adrian come behind me, gathering my hair into his hands while I puke on my entryway tile. I stare down at the pile, contemplating if you can actually die from embarrassment.

“Oh my god.” I whisper, eyes closed in distress.

“It’s okay.” Adrian soothes me. “Go to the bathroom.” He hands me a bowl from my kitchen counter that I usually have candy in to munch on throughout the week. I put the bowl under my mouth and make my way delicately to my bedroom. The front closet opens and Adrian begins gathering cleaning supplies.

A half hour passes along with several toilet flushes. A soft knock sounds on the bathroom door before Adrian pushes it open. He sees me curled in the fetal position on the tile. My dress is all sorts of wrinkled and bunched. I had ripped the zipper down to ease the pressure of the fabric against my stomach, exposing my back to the air.

“How ya doing?” He murmurs, kneeling down to smooth my hair back from my face. I can’t speak, so I just shake my head in the negative. His hand continues to pet my hair as he looks at me. My lips are cracking and dry from my puking episodes. My mouth feels and smells completely coated in bile. I close my eyes again as he steps away, leaving the room again. When he returns, he has my pillow in his hands. He slides it under my head, gently laying me rest on it. “Blanket?” He asks as I shiver. I shake my head no.

“I’m so hot.” He nods in understanding. “What is happening to me.”

“I think you have food poisoning.” He grimaces. “Told you to stop buying grocery store sushi.” He jokes, making me laugh then groan at the twisting of my insides. “Sorry, shouldn’t make you laugh.” He reaches out again, rubbing his finger tips through my hair then against my scalp. I relax my head back into his hand, letting him comfort my spent body.

I can imagine how we look now from above. Like two lovers who are sharing in the ache of life, committed to sickness and health, no matter the circumstances.

But that’s not what we really are.

Instead, it’s the typical, girl loves boy. Boy loves anyone else. So girl settles for what she can have because life without him doesn’t feel like a bearable choice.

Adrian’s hand works down from my hair to my bare shoulder blade peeking out from my unzipped dress. He feathers his finger tips along the bone then moves to glide the tips down my spine. I’m not wearing a bra allowing his fingerprints to stroke every bump of my vertebrae. My eyes slowly open, finding him staring at my bare skin with an expression I’ve never seen before. There is obvious interest in his blue gaze, shocking with how utterly pale and disgusting I am.

“Um,” I start to speak, causing him to jump and take his hand off me. “I think I want to change. Could you get me some clothes.” 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat and stands. “I’ll be right back.” I cringe at how awkward that felt. When he returns, he makes an excuse of getting me some water so I can change alone. I am aching as I pull the sweatpants and t-shirt on. I discard my dress in the corner, trying not to cry at how disappointed I am that I couldn’t make it to the gala.

While Adrian is gone, I decide I feel well enough to move into my bed. I bring my bathroom trash can with me to the side of the bed, just in case I can’t make it again. Adrian comes in, smiling in relief at seeing me in bed. He moves to my walk-in closet, coming back out in different clothes.

“Can I have these back?” He gestures to both articles of Kings clothing that are his.

“For now.” I sigh. “I’m too weak to fight you.”

“I’ll bring them back. They look better on you.” He says while walking towards me. “Do you need anything else?” He asks as he brushes my hair off my forehead. It’s a little damp from the constant temperature changes I’ve been going through.

“Please stay.” I ask him feebly.

“I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t want to wear my suit anymore.” I nod in understanding. I am utterly exhausted and his touch could easily lull me to sleep. I’m craving comfort and not too shy to ask for it tonight.

“Will you… hold me. Please?” I whisper. My eyes are closed and I miss the relieved flutter of his lashes at my words.

“Yes.” He sighs, carefully moving me over to make space. He opens his arms wide so I can wiggle back into him. His fingers spread along my back, rubbing comforting strokes over my t-shirt. He sets his head against mine, our legs entwining together until every part of our bodies touch. The comfort of this skin eases the ick coursing through my body. I moan as my stomach clenches again.

“I’m going to apologize in advance if I puke on you.” He lengthens his strokes on my back, rubbing in just the right way that has goosebumps spreading across my skin. “That feels so good.”

“Good. Try to sleep.” He encourages me, keeping perfect pressure on my body.

His touch is everything I need. I fall into a sweaty, deep sleep until the next morning. 

I awaken as weak sunlight drifts into my room through a crack in the curtains. I am laying with my face towards the bathroom. I can see light on in there. Adrian is missing, but noise from behind the door tells me he’s in there. It’s another few moments of the toilet flushing, drawers opening and closing, before he appears. From behind him, I can see that he’s cleaned the entire room, including my make up spread all over the counter from last night. He registers my open eyes, coming to the bed. He kneels on it, reaching out to stroke my shoulder.

“You okay?” He whispers. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I’m still not feeling well.” I admit. The pangs in my stomach have weakened, but there is a definite off feeling still consuming my body.

“Okay. Stay in bed and rest.” 

“Are you leaving?” I whisper to him, reaching for his hand on the comforter. I enclose it with mine. I want him to stay, but understand that he probably has practice.

“No. Just going to make some coffee.” His thumb brushes along mine, squeezing as he release it.

“Okay.” I murmur, nestling myself deeper into my pillow. “Thank you for taking care of me.” I whisper to him as my eyes close. 

“Not much I wouldn’t do for you.” He murmurs. My breath catches in my chest when I feel his lips ghost over my hair. I keep my eyes closed until I register the soft click of the door shutting.

What was that?

I drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours. Adrian doesn’t return. Eventually, the smell of bread wafts down to me. I perk up a bit in bed, feeling my stomach bubble and groan. This feels like hunger more than anything else. I ease my way out of bed, padding out to the main area of my apartment. I pause, taking in the spotless living room and kitchen. It did not look like that last night. Adrian’s back is to me. I can hear the dishwasher running and eggs sizzling on the stove. 

Adrian turns to toss the egg shells in the trash can, smiling when he sees me.

“Hey.” I swear to God, I fall in love with him all over again, right there in my kitchen that he cleaned after scrubbing my vomit off the bathroom floor. 

“Hi.” I whimper out, walking around the island to give him an appreciative hug. “You cleaned my whole apartment.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

“How are you single?” I joke. He chuckles, then ends our hug after a shrug.

“You tell me.”

I don’t know. She is fucking crazy to have let you go.

“Sit down. I have some toast for you if you’re up for it.”

“I think I am.” I say to him, going to the counter and waiting for him to present me with a plate of perfectly toasted white bread. “Do you think I can I have jam?”

“That’s probably too much.” He murmurs, scraping his scrambles eggs onto a separate plate. I ponder that, then decide he’s probably right. 

Once his meal is done, eggs and toast with jam, he comes to is next to me with a cup of coffee. I want that, but know that will probably start my issues all over again. Our first few bites are in silence. His thigh keeps brushing against mine with how close he is sitting to me. I steal a glance at him, watching as his fork disappears between his lips. It takes all my restraint to not moan. Then, I remember the discreet kiss he dropped on me earlier this morning.

“Um, in the bedroom earlier…” I start, chewing softly on my toast. “What was that?” He puckers his lips in confusion, shaking his head. “You kissed me.” I murmur. “After saying you’d do anything for me.” He opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, then he closes it. He looks across the room, looking at the leaves on the trees outside as they dance in the wind.

“Do you know why Katie and I broke up?” He turns his head quickly back to me after he asks. I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose at her name.

“She wanted to get married and you didn’t?” 

“Yeah, that’s part of it.” I pause with the toast by my mouth. Something is shifting between us. Anticipation tingles in my limbs as I wait for what he says next.

“I never thought you two were right for each other.” I shrug, chomping on my toast and avoiding his gaze.

“Why?” He wonders, leaning forward in his chair, just a little closer to me. I lick my lips, shrugging. “Maybe it’s because you and I love each other?”

The silence between us is so thick it could be icing on a cake. I set my toast back down on the plate, swallowing the last bite I had in my mouth. My stomach sloshes for a completely different reason than an illness. He reaches out to hold my hand. Our fingers slide together, grasping at each other.

“I’ll never forget the moment that I realized I love you.” He’s speaking so softly. I tilt my head, watching his mouth as he speaks. Is this really happening? Or am I hallucinating from a lack of fluids. “It was at that country festival on the beach we go to at the beginning of the season. You were drunk and dancing and complaining about being dizzy. You fell into my arms, completely surrendering yourself to me. I almost dropped you and you joked about my quick hands. It was the first time I saw you as more than a friend. You reached up to brush the hair out of my eyes. I’ve never felt anything close to that with anyone else before or since then. One touch and I was done.”

“That was two years ago.” I respond, feeling my mouth go dry. 

“Yeah, and I’ve loved you every day since.”

I lean forward and place our lips together. My arms fall around his shoulders as I pull him closer to me. His hands dash into the hair at the back of my head, cradling it as our tongues touch. Soon, his hands trail down my back, coming under my butt to lift me from my chair to straddle his lap. I settle there easily, like I was made for him. Slowly, I pull away for air. My gaze drinks him in beneath me, lips shining from our kiss, blue eyes drunk on the look of me above him.

“You and Katie weren’t right for each other because you and I are.” I confess to him. He grins back at me. “I’m so in love with you.”

“We should be together then.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, baby.”

So many nights, alone in my bed, I dreamed of this. Now, his hands stroke my thighs, igniting a fire in me that only he can calm.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a soft whisper as I lean down to press my lips back to his. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.” Adrian stills beneath me. I take his bottom lip between my teeth.

“We’re just gonna dive right in, eh?” He chuckles.

“Oh, if you wanna take it slow-“

“We’ve waited long enough.” He whispers against my lips.

My teeth connect with them because of my grin.

Turns out, Adrian Kempe is worth the wait.

[lorei-writes]

Winter Flower

Chapter II: Steam

Masamune x OC [Hana] Summary: Hana wakes up in the gardens of Azuchi castle without any recollection of her past. Who is she? What was she doing there? And most importantly – what is she supposed to do now? Placed under supervision of Lord Date, Hana has to find her footing in the unfamiliar reality of the warring states. Series Masterlist

Content Warnings: blood (mention)

What I see just a couple steps further is a vivid representation of a domestic war in the most literal meaning of the word – soiled and scratched floors, broken walls, echoing screams and wails, and then, the culprit behind it all, caught while joyfully chewing on a support beam. Truly, a magnificent beast… Shogetsu, was it?

My chest feels tight… Although no, that is not the right way to describe it. It is hard to breathe, but I am not in a state of panic. I am still drowsy, and the warmth that surrounds me is overwhelming, to the point where it lures me back directly into the realm of sleep… Something of rough texture moves against my cheek, not quite dry, yet not wet either. It stinks of raw meat. I open my eyes, and although I can hardly draw any air in, I do scream my lungs out. There is a tiger – tiger! – sitting on top of me.

My head feels light, its fangs appearing in their full glory as the beast yawns. I can hardly see it, I can hardly feel its paws and claws – my mind won’t allow me to be occupied by anything but those ivory canines, and the way they near my —

Somebody pulls the tiger off me. I jolt back in absolute shock and I do not even know when or how, but I find myself with my back against the wall. A man, older than me although not yet old, sends me a stare, a sigh heaving his shoulders.

“I’ve told the young lord this would most definitely happen,” he mutters, brown hair falling into his eyes. He shakes the – now that it is not near me, I can actually see it for what it is – tiger cub and tucks it under his armpit, before brushing his fringe back. “Good afternoon, Hana… Although I suppose it is as good as it is eventful.”

I nod, still mildly dumb-struck.

“I’ve been informed of your condition. Young lord decided that you are free to move around the Date manor as you please, however, you must not step outside its grounds without supervision. Is that clear?”

“D-Date manor?” I echo the unfamiliar name. Was I relocated somewhere while I slept? I try to search my memory for any hints on the matter, but yesterday night’s events seem not to have left even the slightest trace past a certain point. The man furrows his brows.

“Yes. You’ve been placed under the supervision of lord Date. Where else should you be if not in his manor?”

I massage my temples. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember some things.”

“I take your memory is in a worse state than initially assessed?” He raises his eyebrows, the cub squirming in his hold. “Quiet, Shogetsu,” he chastises it. I smile an uneasy smile at him, my throat feeling awfully dry.

“In all due honesty, I don’t know,” I admit reluctantly. “Is it customary to keep tigers as pets here?”

“No, I’m afraid it is just a peculiarity of the young lord,” the man sighs even heavier than before. He drops the cub to the floor, and so it scurries away from him. Straight out of the room. “Allow me to repeat: you are free to move around the manor, but you cannot step outside its grounds by yourself. Is that clear?” he explains with his eyes fixed on me, all the while dutifully accentuating every single word.

“Yes.” Clear as day, and as the fact that soon enough you’ll be able to dispose of unwanted guests with this still-little-but-not-for-long cat.

“Very well then.” He turns to leave, but I scramble to my feet and… Well, I wish to call his name, but it is now that I realise he hasn’t introduced himself.

“Is something the matter?”

I fix my eyes on the floor. There are few things I understand of how this world functions, but I am not willing to believe hospitality is handed out to anybody without any strings attached.

“I – I don’t suppose I will be allowed to stay here indefinitely, nor that it will be free of charge, so I –”

“It was an order to watch over you for the time being,” he interrupts me. “Essentially, you are not much different from a prisoner. Unless any further suspicions about your intentions arise, you shall be released eventually, potentially as early as this spring.”

My hands roll into fists. Spring? Is that not too early? What do I do now, how do I prepare for this if in my mind, my life has only started yesterday? Heavens have mercy, I needed help with dressing myself up properly.

“Is… Is there a possibility I could be of use here?” I suggest, words barely fitting through the bottleneck that is my throat. “I swear, I do not know why I’m here, or even where this ‘here’ is.”

The man taps his chin, as if to signal that he is considering the matter thoroughly, and then he speaks again, “I will raise the topic with the young lord. If you really are as clueless as you claim… I suppose you may have a hard time finding a place for yourself.”

“Thank you…” I trail off, only one thing stopping me from breathing a sigh of relief.

“Kojuro. Katakura Kojuro.”

“Thank you, lord Kojuro,” I finish, now properly. My chest feels lighter, this time not only due to the absence of murder mittens. The door to the room closes behind Kojuro.

My heart still drumming at much too fast rate, I resign to rest a little longer… Until my hands begin to itch, both literally and figuratively. I am probably the only person around doing precisely nothing, and it does not improve my situation in the slightest – so I resist the desire to rot, and force myself to come out of this save heaven. I have to see the place I am confined to for myself.

Nothing seems particularly noteworthy, at least at first glance. The hallways I stroll through are clean and devoid of any presence of the living… And then they aren’t any longer, muddy paw prints having been splattered all over the walls and wooden floor. My eyebrow twitches, but I cannot see the devilish cub anywhere around, so I continue my walk, surrounded by vaguely distant cries of maids.

What I see just a couple steps further is a vivid representation of a domestic war in the most literal meaning of the word – soiled and scratched floors, broken walls, echoing screams and wails, and then, the culprit behind it all, caught while joyfully chewing on a support beam. Truly, a magnificent beast… Shogetsu, was it? I plan to shoo away from the scene, but it leaps towards me. I am a prisoner, not a toy, but it doesn’t seem to see any difference between those two. Could it be that is precisely why I was relocated here? Could it?

I break into a dash, the tiger chasing after me with the enthusiasm known only to predators that are after their prey – or, in this case specifically, myself. I do not dare slow down, not even when my lungs begin to burn. I’ve initially planned to retreat to my room, and to slam the door in the tiger’s face… muzzle… but as things stand, I come to realise that I am lost. It is gaining on me. Just as I try to think of a way to rid myself of it, I stumble over my own feet. My body does not seem to know how to move in the clothes worn here, and of course, I have to learn of the fact at the worst possible time.

My palms are the first to crash with the floor. I turn around as fast as possible, Shogetsu launching itself forward, it’s jaw hanging open with fangs ready to bite. I shield my head, but… The blow never comes.

“You’re one unruly kit, Shogetsu.”

I open my eyes to see Eyepa – Masamune standing with his back towards me. He turns on his heel, his forearm lodged in the tiger’s jaws. I gasp audibly, fresh blood dripping slowly from below the fangs still pressing into his skin. I cover my mouth just as Masamune drops the cub. It appears mildly apologetic, or at least I want to believe so, given how it brushes against his legs and mewls.

“Your arm –”

“Are you okay?” he doesn’t let me finish. Were people here raised by wolves? I cannot stop myself from frowning.

“You’re bleeding,” I state the obvious and get up, although my legs are still trembling. Masamune just shrugs. He leans down to pet the little-big cat. Having received forgiveness, Shogetsu meows – or at least I assume it was meant to be a meow.

Masamune straightens his back. “It’s just a small cut.”

“A small cut? You can’t keep a tiger if you allow it to just roam around, bite people, and destroy things!” I shout. Perhaps the shock hasn’t worn off just yet, as I continue, “What if it bites somebody’s hand off?! ‘It was just an accident?’! You have to take the responsibility for it, you’re the lord of this mano – You’re the lord –” My steam has run out.

Masamune stares at me, his lips slightly ajar, and I am made painfully aware of what I have done. I, the prisoner, have scolded the lord on how he should lord. Off to a great start. However, just as I am about to apologise, he bursts into laughter.

“For somebody so scared a moment ago, you give quite some lectures, lass.”

I harbour no regrets anymore, thank you very much.

“You can’t take anything seriously, can you?”

One day I will have my tongue cut out, and I will probably thank whoever will do the deed. His grin turns feral, his one blue eye gaining a chill, almost ruthless, glint. I take a step back the atmosphere cooling rapidly as his hand drops to the scabbards at his hip. I barely manage to blink, and he is already in front of me. I can feel his warmth, his breath that nearly tickles my cheeks – but it is all drowned out by the frost of the steel, perhaps a breadth of a hair separating the edge of his blade from my throat.

“Were you after lord Nobunaga’s life?” he questions. I want to push him back, but I stop myself. There’s no telling what may happen if I move.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” I repeat what I have already told them. “I don’t remember.”

Masamune steps back. He sheathes his sword just like that, warmth returning to the corridor at once.

“I believe you.” Meanwhile, I don’t believe you’re a real person, and not a figment of my imagination. Who in their right mind would…?

“What was that about?” Welcome back steam.

“I was meaning to ask you sooner, but I couldn’t wake you up in the morning, and now you were focused on my arm.” Masamune gives me another shrug. Perhaps he is not in his right mind. For all I know, no sane person would keep a potentially man-eating cat-astrophe as a pet.

“And you needed a sword for that? A sword?!”

“It’s not like you would lie when you could lose your head.”

That’s it. I throw my hands into the air and groan. I tug on my hair. It’s not like it looked in any reasonable manner to begin with. It might have been that forgetting of my appearance has in fact been a blessing, unruly curls falling over my eyes the moment I shake my head.

“You’re impossible!” I force out of myself. Forget the lords, forget the fact that I’m a prisoner, if Mr Confident is fine with having Eyepatch around, I shouldn’t be a problem to him either. Masamune seems to be amused by the entire situation and I cannot stop fuming.

His sleeve is now stained with blood. As much as he has threatened me, he also did save me from the beast – although he has also brought it upon me. Nevertheless, he is injured, and it does look painful, so much so that I mellow out after a short while. Just as he is about to turn around and leave, I reach for his wrist.

Masamune is stunned as I roll the fabric up his arm. The wounds left by the tiger’s fangs are now red, with elevated edges no less. Perhaps I have misjudged just how shallow they are.

“Please… have those cleaned fast. Who knows what Shogetsu held in that mouth,” I whisper out, although it appears that he has resigned to merely stare at me. “Lord Masamune?” I ask. He pulls his arm back.

“And you’re telling me I’m the impossible one?” he chuckles, his sleeve dropping down. Is he truly being stubborn about being tended to now? “It’s nothing.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he ruffles my hair. The next moment, Masamune is already walking away, and I am stuck processing what exactly has just happened. I run after him.

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Series tag list: @cheese-ception @nuttytani