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schrijverr · 2 years

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The Oddity of Professor Hale

Professor Hale might be a good teacher, but Elle just knows something is off about him Why won’t anyone else in her class see that? And when will the flirting stop? Along with those stupid theories about his marriage. She just wants to learn about history.

On AO3.

Ships: Sterek

Warnings: Derek is uncomfortable about flirting

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Professor Hale is a weird man. Handsome, sure, but weird.

Well, maybe that is a bit unfair, but when he just got hired work went around pretty quickly of the too handsome to be true History professor. So, the class quickly filled up, which sucks for Elle, who needs the credit and is now surrounded by horny people in her 9:00 AM lecture.

And all those horny people are apparently perfectly content to ignore how fucking strange their professor actually is. Not, Elle, however.

It isn’t that professor Hale’s quirks aren’t productive, but they are weird. Everyone has learned not to whisper in his classes. It’s like he has super hearing. He’ll know when you’re talking with a partner and not about the lecture, and he is not afraid to call you out on it in front of everyone. Even if it shouldn’t be possible to hear from that distance. They’re with 300 people in that class, for god’s sake.

But when she told her friend, Kai, about it, he just sighed dreamily and muttered something about how attentive professor Hale is, an innuendo baked into it.

The same goes for phones and texting, he has a strict rule against them. A rule, which should have been impossible to enforce on this scale, but professor Hale manages.

Within two weeks seven phones have been confiscated and their owners told to retrieve them after the lecture. Though, Elle is pretty sure two of those were on purpose to get extra time and a chance to strike up a conversation with professor Hale.

It’s a bit annoying that students will try to flirt with professor Hale. One he is a professor and they really shouldn’t and two it interrupts the lesson from time to time. The fact that professor Hale seems to agree with her, is a redeeming quality.

Though how he shows his displeasure is yet another oddity of him. He seems to know who is coming up to him with a genuine question and who is just trying to get his attention. Elle sees how his posture is different with each, what she doesn’t know is why he tends to smell the air, wrinkling his nose when the person in question is coming up to flirt.

He is swift to shut those coming up to flirt down. It’s always a bit funny to see how he quickly he redirects them and sends them off. Elle can’t help, but think he wants to add something when he does, but he always remains silent.

Professor Hale is a bit of brick wall in that regard. He never engages in personal questions or prompts to distract him from the topic at hand. The class doesn’t even know his first name. Elle is perfectly fine with that, though she does have to listen to discussion about what name suits the ‘dark and handsome’ professor best.

She is pretty sure that were it not for her fellow students, professor Hale would be her favourite professor there.

He has concise lesson plans, keeps on schedule and knows how to keep the class in line. He also has a deep knowledge about the material (about which Elle has again heard many innuendos) and he is enthusiastic about what he teaches.

Elle loves History and she wants to enjoy this class. She manages for the most part, but moments like these make it difficult.

Kelly is up there right now. She is wearing a crop top, a short skirt and fishnets, despite the fact that it’s fall. And she has just come up to professor Hale’s desk, leaning on it as she points at something in her notes, twirling her hair as she does.

She is fucking hot, Elle can see that, because Kelly has like the perfect legs and a cute tummy that she wants to kiss. However, she can also see that professor Hale is mighty uncomfortable, which takes away from her hotness as she continues on.

Professor Hale is giving her short, clipped answers. He is leaning away and his body language is guarded. Elle even thinks his lip is starting to curl into a snarl, another oddity of the man.

It’s a common sight in this lecture, but Elle just wishes it would stop. She mutters to herself: “God, just be horny for someone else, people. Is it that hard to just learn the material?”

And she swears to the lord almighty above that professor Hale shoots her a pained agreeing look as she does. Fuck, another thing for on the list that makes professor Hale weird. Though in fairness, she noticed before how he’ll look to the door, before it is opened, as if he heard before it was possible, whenever someone is late.

Kelly is oblivious to all this, as they all seem to be. Too busy horning over their professor to pick up on the clues that something is serious off about him.

At this point Elle is just waiting for Kelly to run out of things to ask with professor Hale’s quick and curt answers hurrying them along. It’s a bit routine now, though a routine Elle would like to stop, though she knows that isn’t happening soon.

Naturally the gods are out there to prove her wrong, because the routine is broken not even moments later with professor Hale loudly snapping: “Can you please get out of my space, I’m married.”

The whole class falls silent.

Elle just knows this is going to get interesting in the worst way possible. Kelly looks positively shocked and professor Hale is grimacing, ears slightly pink. She checks – all of them do, probably – there is no ring on his finger.

“What?” Kelly splutters a bit, sliding off the desk and tugging a bit on her clothes, obviously embarrassed that she caused the outburst in front of everyone.

“I’m sorry,” professor Hale says, rubbing the back of his head. “You were just getting really close and usually the person runs out of things to say, but you kept going. It’s really uncomfortable, I panicked a bit.”

Apparently professor Hale hasn’t been oblivious (which Elle already knew, though she heard enough about him being adorably oblivious to know there are enough that didn’t). Hearing that the man is uncomfortable to the point of lying – because really, no ring? Go with partner there – is a bit of a wake up call.

Kelly hurries off without a reply and they’re dismissed early. For once nobody sticking around for after class for study tips.

The next few lectures are silent and quiet. Elle would be more relieved about finally being able to follow the lectures normally if there wasn’t such an oppressive aura in the hall. Everyone is aware of professor Hale, watching him as if he’ll explode again. They are all aware of their interactions with him and he seems to try his best to ignore it, but it’s not really working.

This strange vibe drags on for a while. Elle is pretty sure it’s what will save most of the grades in their room, since everyone is focused on their work to avoid upsetting professor Hale. Professor Hale looks like he is aware of the mood, but doesn’t mind it enough to break it himself.

Finally Kai can’t take it anymore and Elle would be semi-grateful for him lightening up the room, were she not sitting next to him when he asks: “What’s your spouse like, professor Hale?”

Kai has luckily dropped the mooning over professor Hale, claiming that he can appreciate art as long as the art isn’t uncomfortable. He now also has a boyfriend, so Elle is not saved from the poetry of an English major, it is, however, no longer about her professor. So, she counts it as a win overall.

She doesn’t know if professor Hale catches on to the fact that Kai isn’t trying to sus out the competition or something, though he takes a moment, flaring his nostrils, before he answers: “He is a complete dumbass, who is lucky he’s pretty.”

Like Elle, no one in the room had expected an answer. So, they’re all a bit surprised that Mr. Brick Wall is willingly telling them things, especially such a thing. It should be an insult, though professor Hale sounds incredibly fond as he describes his husband. Elle can honestly say that his eyes are full of pure love and she knows in that moment that no one ever stood a chance with him.

Next to her Kai smiles, he has also caught onto the love in professor Hale’s voice and since he is a romantic at heart, he is melting. He asks: “How did you meet him?”

Professor Hale hesitates for a moment, as if he is embarrassed about the meeting. While Elle couldn’t be less interested in professor Hale’s jawline, she is definitely in the story behind that look. She might not be attracted, but she can be a nosy bitch.

After a moment, professor Hale says: “My uncle got to know his best friend due to… work, kind of shoved him on me. He and my husband are kind of a package deal. He grew on me.”

Elle thinks it’s a bit of an odd story, but she isn’t going to say that and apparently neither is Kai, who has been appointed at class speaker for this conversation. Instead he just asks: “Can I ask why no ring?”

None of them, including Elle, know that they do have a ring, but that Derek was afraid to paint an extra target on Stiles’ back in this new place. Stiles told him he was being ridiculous since he followed the pack out there to keep an eye on them while in college, but dutifully followed the no ring on campus rule.

“I think that’s enough questions for today, Mr. Durant,” professor Hale replies without answer, before moving on with his lecture.

It seems like that’s the end of the sharing but it breaks the oppressive vibe. Professor Hale is still a human under there, wanting to teach, just bit private. The whole conversation is the most human they’ve seen him. And the fact that he doesn’t hate them all is enough to remove the eggs shells from under their feet.

For a moment, Elle thinks this is it. They stopped flirting, they stopped being weird. She can finally enjoy her fascinating class and good professor in peace.

Of course, the gods are still out to get her, because instead of focusing on the material, they turn to theories, along with a bit of pining on the side. Some of the theories are quite funny, like Steve’s, who claims the man is was part of a circus and met his husband there or Nikki, who is convinced professor Hale has Stockholm Syndrome and was taken by a serial killer in his youth.

Some dumbasses are still calculating how big their chances at being a homewrecker are, but those are shut down pretty soon by people who don’t want any more shit with their professor.

The most popular theories are model, film star or other famous person, since beauty attracts beauty, or something. Though one girl suggests he is married to a student, since she heard about a boy on campus being married. That, however, gets shut down by Kelly, who claimed he is weird kid and way nowhere near professor Hale’s league.

Professor Hale’s husband gains a bit of a mysterious legendary status among the people in the lecture. All of them are curious, some even filling the old flirt spaces with questions about the husband.

But professor Hale is still a brick wall about his personal life, refusing to share anything in a way that only adds to the mystery.

Which is why the reveal is both overwhelming and underwhelming. They’re in the middle of discussing the impacts of industrialization on social stratification when professor Hale looks to the side moments before the door is slammed open.

In comes, what can only be described as, a flurry chaotic blur. It’s a lanky kid, who can’t be older than nineteen, though Elle wouldn’t think it weird if he claimed he is sixteen.

Usually when people are late, especially this late, they try to slip in as quietly as possible, but not this kid. This kid is not only clumsy, stumbling over himself, but he is also loud. He comes in, his mouth already running a mile a minute.

“I swear to god, I’m making this up to you at some point, I would wiggle my brows here but I know you’re gonna ask for my brownies – which I’m not even going to pretend to be upset about, by the way, my brownies are epic – so I’m not even going to bother,” he says, shoving what he’s holding into professor Hale’s hands.

“Stiles, what-” professor Hale manages, before – Stiles apparently – barrels on.

“Scott just called me over, because there is this thing, you know, the thing with the water. Anyway, he wants to go check it out, I have to go stop him, because he is an idiot. But we both know that’s not going to happen, so I’ll probably end up nearly drowned and my laptop is in my bag and it has my final project on it and I don’t have time to swing home to drop it off. Keep it safe for me.”

“Wait, Stiles,” professor Hale calls out practically forgetting all the eyes on him. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are not, because I am going to be fine, save tripping over myself and falling into a lake that will hopefully not come alive to drown me,” Stiles replies. “I’m serious, Derek.” (professor Hale’s name is Derek???) “Scott will be there, and Isaac and Boyd are coming too. We’re gonna be safe, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

And then, to cause the final blue screen for everyone there, he pecks professor Hale on the mouth, before running off, calling out a quick: “Love you, Der-bear.”

Professor Hale is fully blushing, still clutching the worn out backpack the other had shoved into his hands. Stiles is nearly out of the door when he has the mind to yell back: “Love you too, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Never,” Stiles grins, turning as he opens the door and winks. “I am stupid, doing stupid is your thing.” Then he’s gone as professor Hale splutters something intelligible.

The whole room is silent, reminiscent of the outburst a while back.

Professor Hale looks a bit dazed, blinking a few times and looking between the bag and the door once, before he seems to remember he’s in a lecture. Almost hesitantly, he turns to the class, putting the bag down and clearing his throat.

Before he can say anything, move on or ignore what just happened, Kelly says: “Oh my god, was that your husband?”

It’s pretty obvious from the way he literally kissed professor Hale goodbye and that he loved him and called him Der-bear. Like holy shit, that really just happened. With the exclamation of Kelly, however, it all hits them and the room explodes.

All the noise overwhelms professor Hale and Elle can’t blame him. If he can hear whispers across the hall, then this must be pretty painful.

“Okay, be quiet, everyone!” he calls out, it is practically a roar and Elle is impressed by how loud and commanding he manages to get his voice.

Once everyone has settled down, he says: “That was indeed my husband. He is probably going to do something stupid, so I’d like to get through the material as fast as possible and maybe let you go a bit early.”

And he keeps his word, not letting anyone derail his class as he moves through his lecture at a slightly higher pace, though one can still write along. He keeps glancing at the clock and anxiously tapping his foot, tiling his head as if listening to something in the distance.

Elle thinks it’s kinda cute how worried he is, but she mostly wonders what the hell Stiles was on about and if it has anything to do with why professor Hale is so weird.

Everyone is buzzing about it when professor Hale lets them go, not even waiting until they’ve started packing as he hurries out of the room, Stiles’ bag in hand. Elle hears Kelly loudly exclaim: “I can’t believe the weird criminology student managed to land professor Hale.”

It was a theory Elle laughed about when it was posed. Professor Hale just didn’t seem the type to date someone younger than him, the imbalance making him uncomfortable. It’s a bit strange that it’s true.

But then she remembers the lack of rings, probably to give both of them some semblance of normality and privacy. Besides, it isn’t like he’s giving Stiles special treatment, seeing that he isn’t even near this department and no one knows they’re together.

She also can’t forget how comfortable Stiles was when he came barreling into their lecture, how he was assuring professor Hale he was going to be fine. He looked happy, despite the apparent crisis and joked easily, not even minding he was embarrassing professor Hale – sorry, Der-bear – in front of his class.

Nah, that relationship looks as healthy as it’s going to get, so Elle makes her peace with it and tries to ignore her classmate’s theories about how to befriend Stiles to get information on professor Hale, some people giggling as they call him Derek or, yes, Dear-bear… sigh, like it’s prized knowledge.

God, she just knows next lecture is going to be a shitshow and they were going to get into formation of political ideologies too. She actually likes that topic.

Of course she is entirely correct. Professor Hale doesn’t even try to start the lecture. He enters when they’re already seated, saying: “Sorry for running a bit late, I had to pick up some chalk on-” he looks up and sighs. “None of you are going to pay attention, are you?”

A few have the balls to shake their head no and Kelly starts them out by saying: “So, your husband. He seems nice.”

Professor Hale rolls his eyes whether it’s at the fact that his husband is being called nice or at the obviousness in the comment, Elle doesn’t know. Still, he replies: “He is.”

“Is he okay?” Elle asks, her voice taking herself by surprise as much as professor Hale, who raises a brow at the usually quiet girl and she mumblingly adds: “It just sounded like something bad was going on.”

His face softens a bit and he says: “He is alright. Didn’t manage to stay dry however.” He smirks at the last bit, as if it’s incredibly funny, but doesn’t elaborate further. The class doesn’t exactly know that the water spirit Scott thought was a danger, was actually pretty chill and they made peace with it, but not before it rocked the boat with only Stiles falling out.

“That’s- That’s good,” Elle says quickly, wanting to sink into oblivion. She hates speaking up in the lectures, she actually send professor Hale an email about it once and he hasn’t called on her again in class discussions, which she is quite grateful for.

Professor Hale quickly gets the attention off her by addressing everyone: “He is fine and not relevant to any of you. My husband will not be on the exam, but political ideologies in industrial Europe will.”

There is some groaning and Kai calls out: “Really, that’s all we’re going to get, professor?”

“Yes,” professor Hale tells him sternly. “I appreciate the interest, but I am not here to be your friend, alright. I am here to teach you about History and my personal life has no business in this room. Now, please, lets get back at the topic at hand, because if you all manage to convince me I am never shutting up and I prefer to leave the rambling to Stiles.”

Despite his sternness, professor Hale lets something slip and Elle smiles at the memory of Stiles never ending stream of words, trying to imagine professor Hale doing the same. It’s a bit sweet how the stoic professor apparently will ramble about his spouse.

The class is never satisfied, but they are mollified by professor Hale’s reply and let him actually begin teaching.

His lecture about the political streams and their origin is fascinating and Elle takes notes enthusiastically. Professor Hale might be a bit weird and she hates having to listen to poetry about his eyes, but he is an amazing teacher and she has enough shitty professors that she’s willing to overlook his oddities.

Besides, if someone as chatty and friendly and obviously clumsy as Stiles can love him, how weird can he possibly be?

A/N:

In case you are wondering, yes, Elle is a lesbian, bc I wanted to push my confusion and mild exasperation about Derek’s apparent hotness on someone lmao

#RR writing #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles x derek #stiles stilinski #sterek #derek hale #college student! stiles #Professor! Derek Hale #outsiders pov #OCs

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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [07]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. explicit smut, pool sex, slight angst, i miss naoya :(, mafia business, mentions of blood, lots of drama, mentions of death and murder

note. IDEK ANYMORE. lmao anyways do you guys want faster updates or do you guys want to wait? i can finish the series next week and then we can move on to white lies 😈

series masterlist

The three of you were seated back at your tables, where the whole dancing fiasco had thankfully ended. Satoru noticed nothing of your behavior – either he was really clueless, or you were a damn good actor – the guy was much too invested with the files Nanami was currently showing.

For a moment, you let yourself loosen as you took a deep breath. The account was much more important than whatever Nanami was scheming.

“I think I may have found where the real money is, or treasure, we should say, since none of us can really figure out what the Zen’ins might be hiding. And from the looks of it, considering Naoya had no idea about what his family kept prior to his death, this is something only his elders wanted to know about,” Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding a photo of an unsuspecting white manor that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “And it’s been right under our nose the whole time.”

“That’s one of our islands,” you replied with a furrowed brow, “Are you saying you traced the source back there? But that’s impossible, we haven’t used that island for years and even Naoya told me he was going to sell it because it was of no use to us. It’s not on commercial waters and there’s no local people around either. That island is in the middle of nowhere.”

“This is exactly why it’s the best place to hide things – because no one would ever suspect this seemingly harmless middle of nowhere could contain their assets.”

Satoru, who’d kept silent the whole time, inched closer to you. His cologne wafting off to you eased you for a moment – purely because it was familiar – and even though you despised saying it, you were thankful he was here. Currently, the blond man posed a bigger threat, the difference being that Nanami actually had leverage against you while you had more control over Satoru.

You sighed. If Naoya was here, things would’ve been so much better. He never lost his composure in figuring things out on his own. But now that he was gone, now that he’d never be coming back, you had be responsible for his sake, but mostly for yours.

“Take a look at this. The nearest land is a small, uncharted city from Brazil’s outskirts. I’ve been illegally transporting weaponry and firearms somewhere near there since our family started the business – it’s the easiest place to sneak in things without getting caught. All you need to do is pay a few fishermen and they’ll easily transport our load from one place to another, no questions asked,” Satoru announced, seemingly deep in thought as he rubbed his chin. “It would make sense if the Zen’in clan elders found this place useful too. It’s basically a hot site for criminals.”

“But we don’t operate this way. The Zen’in elders are too prideful to handle transactions like this. They would’ve chosen a more…discreet yet formal way of handling things.”

“How does an underwater passage sound?” Nanami pushed the other photo aside to reveal a blurry snap of what seemed like a tunnel under the sea. On the surface, it looked just like an abandoned rig, but it stretched too long, the exterior already covered in mold and seaweed. “About 80 years ago, the Zen’in Clan leader at that time was often heavily targeted by their enemies in business that they preferred to travel under the sea. If my theory is correct, right under that island would be another base of some sort that allows the clan leaders move from one country to another while remaining undetected.”

“So that’s how they easily sent their own shit overseas…”

“It would be a very sound conclusion to assume so,” Nanami crossed his arms at Satoru’s musings, “However, that’s all I know. All I can tell you is where I last got the signal for the source – which is about seven years ago, and a few months right after Toji Zen’in was disowned by his family when Naobito took over. It would also be near around the time he met his wife and had his child, which would increase the possibilities that he may have stored something in this island for his son’s future. Again, it could be money, gold – we don’t really know,” he nodded your way, a sense of finality behind those blue eyes that had now looked so menacing when once it brought you comfort – reassurance. “How you get there is all up to you.”

Something didn’t feel right.

“If the elders really wanted to hide this place, they wouldn’t have passed the rights of the island into my inheritance when Naoya died. They surely wouldn’t have wanted me to find out about this.”

“I could think of two things,” Satoru proposed, “It’s either they trust your potential enough as the clan leader to replace Naoya, or they didn’t think you’d care anyway.”

You let his words sink in. The clan elders have never bothered much with you. They were too prideful about “saving face” and “keeping up images” that they couldn’t even let a word of insult slip past their lips under the belief they were above that. But you weren’t stupid; they had never approved of your marriage to Naoya. An outsider like you, suddenly becoming a part of their family when they could’ve had your husband marry a family friend?

They may have kept silent about their dislike to you, but one way or another, they were going to take action for it.

Knowing the Zen’ins, being a Zen’in, you knew there was one thing they hated the most: not being in control.

“Neither,” you finally concluded while mumbling down at your lap. The theory was hazy, incomplete, based only on mere emotions but slowly, you were coming together to piece it. You felt Satoru turn your way, his large hand caressing your knee as if coaxing the words out of you. “It’s neither. Naoya’s elders…they never liked me. It’s been made pretty clear to me that I’m dispensable without my husband, and I will never be a Zen’in in their eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to give up all my inheritance from Naoya because I’m not related to them by blood.”

The silence in the table stretched.

No matter how grandiose the hotel restaurant may be, you felt suffocated in that seat. How didn’t you realize it sooner? You were in a land that stretched past your territory, with both men accompanying you people you couldn’t wholeheartedly trust, while your husband rotted away back at home – probably covered in dust and not even given a proper burial like he deserved.

There was only one way out of this, to put an end to everything. It would prove to be a daunting task, but you didn’t have a choice. No, in fact, this was your only choice if you wanted to survive.

Satoru’s voice softened upon seeing the grimness of how you turned mum. “I’ll follow you wherever you go. I promise to help you in finding out whatever is in there,” he met your eyes; yours filled with contempt, with fear, with desperation, and his filled with regret. “It’s the least I could do…after everything I’ve done to you.”

You took a deep breath.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. There was no way you could trust him with his empty promises. He’d shown enough times that he wasn’t a man of his word, and you’d be a fool to fall for it again. However, Nanami’s glance was curious and suspecting, hiding his true colors with an innocent gesture of sipping his wine. He may seem unbothered and only here to ‘help’, but this man was cunning, possibly more so than Naoya could ever be, and one wrong move would be similar to stepping on a land mine.

Satoru received no response from you, and soon the three of you were standing outside the hotel’s lobby to escort Nanami back where he came from. The dinner was tense, so much so that you’d unknowingly been clutching Satoru’s bicep the whole time.

He tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to life as he gestured to his phone. “Sorry, it’s Geto.”

“Oh,” you muttered and stepped away from him, feeling your heart sink in your chest as you watched him retreat behind the glass doors. Beside you, Nanami snickered.

“Made up your mind, agent?” he taunted, “This is your final chance to prove yourself. Gather enough intel for us to intrude whatever that mighty clan is hiding underneath that island, surrender Gojo to us, and we’ll give you everything as promised.”

You faced him with fiery eyes, prepared for whatever he’d throw your way when he showed you that cursed red coin again. Realizing its power, the true meaning it held, you immediately shut your lips. It must’ve satisfied to know he was the one in charge here, and how could he not be when your life was literally at the palm of his hands, your days growing more numbered if you didn’t follow everything he asked for?

If you had just…if you had just done everything the Organization had asked you for, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have felt this torn.

Nanami flipped the coin before tucking it into his pocket, sending one last salute your way. He hailed a cab and disappeared afterwards, leaving you alone to ponder over the consequences of your actions, your emotions. For the first time in his life, Naoya had lied to you.

He wasn’t correct when he said you were strong.

Because after all this time, you still held onto something that you should’ve let go of a long time ago, and you had nothing but your weak, sensitive, hopeless heart to blame for. Said hurdle appeared not long afterwards, his touch warm on your shoulder as he gazed at the empty spot beside you.

“Oh, Nanami left,” he noted, turning your shoulders to him until you were completely exposed. There was no more hiding from him, or more like you didn’t have enough energy to. You felt dull, tiredness lining your eyes and lips pressed into a flat line. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Ten days. That was how much you’ve wasted your time here in Milan, and you weren’t even remotely close to figuring things out. Your resources were much more limited the farther you were from the Zen’in Estate, and your lawyer was a family one, meaning they held more loyalty to the actual Zen’ins instead of law-affiliated people like you were.

Simply put, you were all alone to solve this by yourself.

Satoru promised to help, but he kept disappearing in the morning along with Geto. You never asked where they went or what they did; it simply didn’t matter anymore.

You would only spend hours locked in your room as you researched everything you could on your private island near Brazil. Just like Satoru said, it seemed like the perfect place to hide things for the spot seemed remote enough to offer privacy for the family’s getaway. You could somewhat recall Naoya proposing once to take you there for your honeymoon, but business got in the way, and it wasn’t like you truly trusted him then to spend such an intimate with him that you said no.

Sighing, you put all the papers away. Not even a single clue led you to what could be possibly be there, but there was an underwater passage. The fact the Zen’ins was capable of building that made you wonder just what the extent of their powers and influence stretched to, and you contemplated for a bit if you could hold that same ability now that you had his name.

Whatever was there, you would look for it.

Your mission was clear – the success of it would determine the fate of your life. Find out what they’re hiding, surrender Satoru Gojo to the Organization, and then everything would be over.

It sounded simple, yet your heart knew it wasn’t. Naoya died with the confidence of his trust over you, the trust you worked so hard to earn. But wasn’t that point? You needed him to trust you for you to be able to pull this mission off, but things happened, emotions and conscience got in the way, and you banged your knuckles on the table until your ring throbbed on your finger.

You just wanted it all to end. You never meant to hurt Naoya, never meant to betray anyone, but it fucking pissed you off that Naoya wasn’t the real problem. He wasn’t the one holding you back.

With not much thought to your next actions, you slipped past the guards and into the pool that had long been closed since 10PM. Being at your room’s tub reminded you of memories you’d rather forget, and you slowly undid your robe and stepped out of your underwear before dipping in the cold, freezing water.

It felt good. It may have been temporary, but the numbing bite of the water helped you feel more placated. Even for a little while, it was nice to not worry about anything. There were no titles, no mafia drama, no anything, just you and the water that you would’ve easily fooled yourself to be simply enjoying your little trip in Milan until –

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You had me worried sick,” You sighed. Of course. Opening your eyes, you raised a brow as Satoru towered over you, a standard hotel towel in his arms. He’d change out of his suit and into cotton shorts and a shirt this time around, possibly on his way to sleep when he realized the room was empty. With no energy to deal with him, you swam away from the man, earning a groan in response. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting weird ever since Nanami came. Listen, if this is about that island, you don’t have to worry too much about anything. I have enough people and resources to help you in every step of the way.”

You ignored him. After everything that happened, what was there to talk about anymore? Even if you told him everything, he might not understand.

So you swam in the middle of the pool, thankful that it was dark enough from the maintenance shutting the lights off that Satoru struggled to find you. However, you’d underestimated him because soon you heard the splashing of the water, and you were harshly tugged by the wrist before Satoru cornered you at the edge of the pool.

He was breathing hard; both of you were, and tried to push past his chest, only to be met with a solid plane of muscle that wouldn’t budge. You sighed and turned away from him, covering your exposed chest with your arms.

“Whatever Naoya is looking for…you’ll find it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious,” the scorn in his tone had been so biting you turned back to him, about to hit him with something, scold him for something, but your words died down in your throat before you even had the chance to.

Satoru hadn’t been demanding. His face, illuminated by the moonlight, made his azure eyes twinkle like stardust exploding. Once in your life, you found so much comfort into staring at such beauty, but that was when everything was still a perfect lie. Funny how the truth ruined everything for its darkness, and you could only look back at him weakly, throat running dry from all the emotions that threatened to pour out of you.

Regret and desperation was written all over his face.

“Please,” he rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he mumbled, “You’re not alone in this. I don’t want to ask for much because I know I don’t deserve it, but please at least understand you don’t have to solve everything on your own. You’re not…you’re not alone. I’m here now.”

“When you left me,” your voice cracked, “It’s because you thought I wouldn’t love you anymore if I found out your true nature,” Satoru opened his eyes, anxiety swimming in those eyes that had once been so sweet. Perhaps he still held that sweetness now, albeit it was less tender and more cautious as he waited for you to continue. “If I told you about every sin I’ve committed, the name of each person I killed and everything I’ve done, would you stay with me? Or would you leave me again, only this time it’s because you think I’m no longer someone you could love?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” was all you said before you felt a tear prick the back of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see, god, you wanted to disappear in that moment you couldn’t think of anything else. Crashing your lips to his, you brought him down by the back of his neck to hide the tears freely falling from your face.

He froze for a split second before he eagerly pushed back, clenching the pool edges with his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. You were panting, moaning in his mouth as he pressed you harder against the edge, skin to skin, breath to breath, soul to soul.

Threading your hands to his hair, you grinded down on his shorts where he was already beginning to grow hard. Satoru groaned inside your mouth from your teasing but made no move to stop to – after all, why would he want to stop? It had been years, seven fucking years, and even you wouldn’t want to stop. It was wrong, it was dirty, it was immoral – but you needed this. You needed this more than ever.

Satoru’s hands tickled your waist as he squeezed them harsher than he intended, his calloused fingers travelling until he was kneading your breasts. You pulled away from him, head thrown back to rest on the edge.

And it was romantic.

The moon had never been so big, sprinkles of star shining in the vast darkness, the scene just perfect for two lovers in a getaway from the harshness of life. You knew it wasn’t real and the spell would break sooner than later, but did it matter? He rolled your beaded nipples into his fingers before he ducked down, lips suctioned to suck heavy bruises on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck that had you twitching in his hold.

Along with your moans, you cried harder. From heartbreak, from regret, from guilt; there was no turning back from this.

“Satoru, please, please, please. Make me feel better, make me feel good, I just want to forget everything.”

He nodded eagerly against your neck, letting your eager hands help him push his shorts down before his cock sprang free. His length grazed your lower abdomen for a moment, though he didn’t waste any time in entering your hole. You gritted your teeth at the intrusion, nails dug so hard in his shoulders that he bled.

The both of you had your foreheads connected, noses brushing and breaths mixing as you moaned and he sighed, eyes shut tight from finally being engulfed in your warmth.

“Right there, ‘Toru, oh fuck.”

“F-fuck,” he hitched one of your legs to wrap around his waist, “You’re still so tight after all this time,” Satoru praised, molding his lips with yours once again. He picked up his pace and watched as you desperately clung from one surface to another – his shoulders, his hair, the edge of the pool, flailing your arms each time his deep thrusts knocked the wind out of you – breasts bouncing as he bounced you on his cock.

“You look so fucking beautiful – my sweet, sweet angel. I missed you, missed you so fucking much.”

You didn’t say anything. No words were needed to be exchanged; actions spoke louder than words. At least right now, you could promise you wouldn’t lie.

Pulling him down for another kiss, you bit down on his bottom lip to muffle your moans, too speechless at each movement of his dick grazing past your walls. Fuck, he still felt so good, still knew your body way too well and your pussy hugged him so tight like you didn’t ever want to let go.

But you knew you had to, even as he came inside you and brought you back to your room, uncaring of the dripping mess you’ve both made before he locked the door.

You forgot how many hours you spent underneath him writhing in his bed. He took you each way he wanted – knees folded beside your head, on your side where he whispered all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to you while he took you from behind, or your head squished on the pillow as he repeatedly smacked your ass, pulling your ass cheeks apart to praise you on how you took him so well. Satoru didn’t stop; you knew what you were getting into the moment you pulled him into you, that his sex drive was insane and he’d take long to tire himself out.

By the time the first shy fingertips of the sunlight extending across the horizon arrived, you were emptily staring at the window, Satoru fast asleep beside you.

It was time.

Silently, you pulled his arm away from you and quickly got dressed. He seemed to still be deep in slumber, and you carried the only bag previously packed with everything you might need. You were on the process of wearing your stilettos when he stirred awake, sleepily eyeing you from the bed you both devoted yourselves to in pleasuring one another.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” you answered, tight-lipped. “From you.”

“Why?”

“Because…I lied,” you inhaled sharply, gloved hands frozen on the golden knobs.

Just open it, you screamed at yourself, walk away before it’s too late.

But you couldn’t move, pathetic that even after everything Naoya had worked so hard for, you still remained a slave to your past.

“No matter how much I hate everything you’ve done to me, I can’t bring myself to forget I once loved you. Maybe I still do – I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” you cried, losing grip on the bag before it fell. You watched emptily as all the contents poured out – your money, your clothes, your phone, your ring – it all served as a reminder of who you were, of who you’d forgotten to be, of who you were supposed to be.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I don’t have enough strength to kill you.”

“Hey, angel,” he cooed, reaching you in three long strides before he caged you in his arms. Satoru was so warm, so strong, and the safety he provided you with only made you cry harder. You wanted to hate him, wanted to keep lying yourself since you’d been doing a great job at doing that for the past seven years, but it wasn’t that easy. Deep down…you still harbored the most miniscule affection, and that enough was capable of destroying you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you whispered brokenly as you banged a weak fist to his chest, “Everything is wrong.”

Finavice Pharmaceuticals didn’t disappoint.

You were beyond impressed the moment you stepped through the door, a horde of eager chemists guiding you through the upper floors. Finavice was one of the biggest – if not the biggest – companies that were known for harboring the rarest or hard to get elements that not even you and Naoya could get your hands on.

Not by yourselves, anyway, so you took it upon yourself to strike a sponsorship to their research program in developing a cure to cancer under the guise of being an advocate to the improvement of the medical field.

Truthfully, you just wanted to please Naoya, show him you were useful and that he didn’t need to kill you. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there you were, your prettiest smile plastered on as you scanned the towering buildings with unmasked interest.

“Here is the laboratory for the Finavice Pharmaceuticals where we test…”

“Mrs. Zen’in?”

The entire team stopped as a tall man, cloaked in a beige suit instead of a lab coat appearhed out of nowhere. Judging by how everyone had ducked their heads down and turned silent, you could only guess he must be the boss. Flashing your most charming smile, you hitched your bag higher up your arm. “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

You fought the urge to sigh. His question was spoken much more of a statement that you weren’t really given a room to decline, and the young chemists gazed at you curiously under their lashes.

Not wanting to create a commotion that would lead into unwanted attention, you nodded, following the man through a set of double doors, guarded by two heavily armed men from the outside.

The man, who was Kento Nanami, the founder of Finavice himself leaned back into his seat as he made himself comfortable. “So you signed a contract with us two weeks ago to partner on our latest medicine, am I right? I’ve read over your proposals and I must say, they are rather interesting and innovative. I didn’t expect that a businessman’s wife would be a chemist who is interested in expanding to the pharmaceuticals as well. The Zen’ins has never been much invested in that.”

Gladly accepting the tea he’d slid your way, you made sure to clink the teaspoon against the porcelain as you played along. “People change, Mr. Kento. My husband and I’s goals are rather different from their former, traditional ones. Surely, steel exchange couldn’t support us for the rest of our lives.”

“I can’t say no to that. Kudos to you and your husband for your rather…ambitious shared goals then.”

Your hand froze on the utensil, and you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. “Are you implying we should not have trusted you with this, Mr. Kento?”

“No, I am merely letting you know that your act won’t fool me,” he chuckled, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his clasped knuckles, his blue eyes growing dark and serious. “I know what you and your husband’s family does. The Organization knows a lot more about your actions than you think you know we do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re only here because we’re the only company who has access to an element you need for your drug, isn’t that the case, Mrs. Zen’in?”

Well…this was certainly unexpected. You’ve been effortlessly deceiving countless businessmen, government leaders and officials even, that this took you by your surprise. Two could play at this game.

Even if he saw through you long ago, it wouldn’t take much to grab his letter opener that was right beside you and puncture it through a jugular vein. If his guards came, you could easily take them down too. Today was one of those few moments you were thankful for Naoya’s hellish training.

But you didn’t want him to feel satisfied, so you leaned back into your seat and crossed your leg over the other.

“If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you kill me already? A lot of people wouldn’t miss the chance to do so.”

Nanami chuckled. “It’s because like you, I’m not just a pioneer. I, too, have my goals and loyalty laid out for someone else. Most specifically, the Organization, an international collaborative effort of stopping and reducing mafia movement for the safety of our people. Obviously, I’ve been assigned in the Yakuza Division, and it’s no coincidence I read through your file. You are, after all, one of our precious targets.”

You stared at him boredly. Why couldn’t he just get straight to the point?

“Is this a threat? I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Oh, no, I’m not threatening you,” he snatched your tea and took a long sip from it, and it was the first time you learned of his habit of concealing his curious gaze through drinking; a perfect act to seem inconspicuous.

“I am offering you a path to redemption. You may fool everyone, but I know an unhappy woman when I see one, Mrs. Zen’in, and I can tell you find no pleasure in the life you live – running errands for your criminal husband, constantly fearing for your life, wishing you’d just been a regular person like everyone else…” At the lack of response, he took it a gesture for him to continue, and he set the cup down, pushing his glasses right back up his nose. “The Organization has labeled you a target, but I think you’re more of a victim caught in a series of unfortunate events. I merely wish to save you from it.”

You guffawed in laughter at his last statement.

“You men really are ridiculous!” you slapped your palm on his table, losing every bit of that elegant composure to be perfected by a Zen’in wife. “Always preaching about saving me and protecting me – what actually are you pathetic losers even capable of?”

Much to your dismay, Nanami didn’t seem the least bit affected by your mockery.

“Please, don’t group me in with your husband and your former lover. Unlike them, I harbor no interest in you as a woman, I only want to fulfill my duty as an Agent and save you not because you’re a damsel in distress, but rather because…I could kill two birds with one stone,” his eyes shone in mischief, and you swallowed in discomfort as he gazed you up and down.

You’ve had enough experience with being seen as a meal, but this was different. Nanami was viewing you like you were a secret weapon he intended on using as much as he could to achieve his goals.

“You are a very convenient woman, Mrs. Zen’in. Similar to how your husband adores your abilities, I would like to take advantage of your connections. The only difference between me and them is that I can actually give you something money can’t even buy.”

“Such as?”

“A second chance at a normal life.”

“What makes you think I’ll accept your offer? I’m the wife of a mafia leader – my loyalty resides in him.”

“Only because you fear for your life,” he flashed you a red coin, crescents of a Latin quote scripted inside. Mori quam foedari – death before dishonor.

“Join the Organization, Y/N. With your connections, we could easily take down these families and protect the country. Hand over Satoru Gojo and Naoya Zen’in to us, and I promise the Organization will do everything in its power to give you the life you always wanted. A safe, normal one. No more worrying about being killed as you ride your car, no more beating yourself up as you make drugs to promise your usefulness to your husband and no more pretending you are someone who you’re not,” he flipped the coin between his fingers, and tantalized, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. “Don’t you want that? You’d be able to live freely if you cooperate with us.”

You could hear the gears in your head turning. Part of you would’ve assumed this was a trap had you not known better, but Naoya taught you that if something was a trap, it would sound too easy, too good.

None of this was easy. It would require facing a demon from your past and handling things differently than what Naoya had planned, but that wasn’t the worst.

It was the fact that if you accepted, you’d have to come home tonight and lie in the face of your husband who could easily read through you. He smelled lies and treachery before you could realize you were even thinking of doing something, and knowing Naoya, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes the instant he felt something was off.

But his offer… it was a risk you had to take. You wouldn’t ever get an opportunity like this again.

“Do you promise…that I’ll really go back to normal after this? That I won’t be involved in this mess anymore?”

“I can only promise that if you also promise to do your part. You see, I strongly believe you are the one that can put an end to this all. All you have to do is join us, and soon it’ll feel like this nightmare never happened at all. You’ll be free from Naoya Zen’in and Gojo Satoru before you realize it.”

You stared at his coin harder. Death before dishonor. This Organization he was a part of obviously didn’t fuck around, and it seemed scarier because they had their eyes on you for a while now. What were the odds they offered a deal instead of outright killing you, even going as far as to provide you a second chance at life, one that you genuinely wanted to enjoy? It would be a shame to say no, and even if the chances of this turning out well were low, you would damn well take it. A small chance was better than nothing.

“What do I have to do?”

Nanami grinned and pocketed his coin. “A very wise decision, Mrs. Zen’in,” he congratulated, “Please, meet me at my office tomorrow, eight on the dot. Oh, and remember, the Organization will now be watching you wherever you go. You’re one of us now.”

The next day, Nanami had cut your palm.

He spilled your blood into an empty metal casing with engraved letters, mori quam foedari, the phrase both comforting and ominous. Soon, you came home with your blood solidified into a coin to prove your membership and loyalty, that they quite owned you in more ways than one. Your blood meant your loyalty, and the coin felt heavy in your pocket with the implication it was also your blood they wouldn’t hesitate to spill should you betray them.

Mori quam foedari.

Death before dishonor.

Your life over Naoya’s, your future over Gojo’s.

The next few days had been tense. After telling Satoru everything down from the smallest detail, things had shifted between you. Quite frankly, you expected that maybe he’d kill you right then and there after explicitly stating that just because you couldn’t kill him, didn’t mean you wouldn’t turn him in.

“Angel,” he begged, “Will you never really give me the chance to do everything right this time around?”

However, you were too firm on your plans. You originally wanted to leave and go to the island yourself; it was easier to leave Satoru open and vulnerable for the Organization to attack him in your absence. He loved you, that was much clear, and if he looked for you, he’d make himself vulnerable to the Organization, but recent plans had to be altered now that he wasn’t willing to let go of you. Though no matter what he said, you valued your life and future more than you could ever love him.

It was an act of kindness to yourself.

“I don’t want this life anymore, Satoru. Either way, I don’t have a choice, not when I could die literally anytime before I could even say goodbye.”

It had been hours since ‘that’ talk and now you were on a plane back to Tokyo. You had to pull out some archives from Naoya’s files to know more about the island before you could visit it, and it was important for Satoru to know details such as security measures over there.

You’d long fallen asleep from exhaustion, bundled up in a fleece blanket while Geto glared at you.

“Are you sure about this, Sir? I think we should just keep her with us even if she doesn’t want to. The Gojo clan is powerful enough that no one would dare cross us. Not even this Organization she speaks of has ever done anything to us. Without her, they stand no chance against us,” he sat in front his boss and kept sending wary glances your way. “Letting her go like you did before wasn’t a good idea. She knows too much about everyone to live normally now. Do you really believe the Organization will protect her?”

“Knowing the strings the government could pull – and add on to the fact Nanami Kento, one of the richest men in this country works for them that it’s safe to assume each figure in them is a powerhouse – I don’t doubt their promise one bit.”

“But you’ll go to jail if you let her surrender you. Or worse, they’ll destroy the clan from the bottom up.”

“I know that, Geto.”

Geto groaned, brushing his hands through his hair from how indifferent his boss was being, drinking champagne as if he wasn’t willingly walking into his own death. “Then why aren’t you thinking more clearly about this? I understand you love her and you want to make it up to her, but we can’t let her do whatever she pleases! In order to keep herself safe, she’s going to sacrifice you! She’s dangerous, Sir, she’s been lying to her husband the whole time and who’s to say she isn’t capable of doing something worse to a stranger like you?”

“I told you already, Geto,” Satoru swirled the pink liquid in his flute, his face empty and unreadable. “I know.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t agree with your decision. The clan would fall without you and you don’t have siblings or an heir. No one is powerful to hold the clan together aside from you so if you leave – there’s no more hope for us,” he sighed when Satoru didn’t budge. “I at least want you to reconsider your actions. She’s just a woman, Sir. It’s either we kill her or we imprison her. You let her go before because you believed she would be your downfall, and quite frankly, it’s happening all over again.”

Satoru gazed out the window, bringing the flute to his lips with a dark glint in his eye that Geto recognized meant trouble, or worse, an actual solution to this hellish situation.

“Which is why we’re going to pay an old friend a visit, Geto. There’s only one person who could turn the tables around.”

ADDITIONAL NOTE: TOJI IS COMING SOON!!! what are your theories on what might be on that island and *drum roll* WHO IS GOJO’S OLD FRIEND?!

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danddymaro · 4 years

Text

Existing | Yoshikage Kira x Reader

He’s starting to realize that perhaps there's much more to her than her hands. | Warning: Smut/ NSFW |

Word Count : 5044

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Existing

She'd learned quickly how to play his game, all in order to stay alive.

Somehow, she managed to keep herself cool enough to do well, even while stuck alone with his dark presence, furthermore, despite being struck nearly stupid at his entire being.

‘ Stay silent.’ She thought to herself, always remembering the one rule, which meant :

Not a word.

Not a murmur.

Not even a muffled huff.

‘Just be quiet,’ She added, knowing it was what had saved her. It's what he loved best.

‘Just...exist.’ she told herself while remaining calm, despite the heavy drumming of her heart each and every time he came near.

- It was yet again another night, one that had for the most part gone as expected.

He came home, neatly putting away all of his things, silently coming to greet 'her' with a soft kiss to her knuckles that meant he was happy to be back.

He spoke of how relieved he was to be home, of how sorry he felt for leaving her without his company for so many hours, going on and on about how he wished he’d spent not a second apart from her.

'There's just one thing off,' She thought to herself, picking up on a hint of a burnt, Smokey scent which initially stung and made her stomach churn, a strange sweetness lingering afterward and far past the smell she quickly recognized.

'He's been smoking,' She realized, having caught onto the smell the previous two nights as well, but brushing it off, not finding it possible for the man when he'd been so diligent in keeping his schedule, and much more, taking such care of himself.

At first, she'd assumed that perhaps he'd gotten too close to a coworker on break, that, or walked into the smoke along the way home, but a third night debunked both theories.

She wondered over the new growing habit as he spoke, not worrying much about not paying attention to him because throughout it all, he never looked (f/n) in the eye, his words and overall attention staying right on her hands.

She was already well aware that all that had mattered to him were both hands, each taken care of with diligence because she'd quickly found out that anything less would anger him.

Smiling sweetly, he continued to run kisses over the flesh, the open-mouthed presses beginning to sound sloppy as he started to lose his composure, his breaths becoming more labored,

"Ah… (f/n)" he sighed, causing her to shiver, her focus driven back to him as mindlessly, her thighs pressed together as she heard the breathless utter, his thickened voice causing her to harshly swallow down her spit.

"Tonight, I need your caress," he told her, all while one of his hands led hers down to his hardened manhood, her other limb assigned right beneath his lips, dutifully showered by huffy kisses.

At that, she shut her mouth tight, hoping to calm her racing heart as his erection was pressed against the palm of her other hand, his excitement strained by his pants that had yet to come down.

Already knowing the rehearsed act, she fell to her knees, sitting before him while he hesitantly let her fingers slip from his hold so they could both work on his belt, soon after tasked with undoing his lavender slacks until all that was left was his undergarment, pulled down by the woman as well.

The hand that had been showered by praise then went up, raised up to him as he leered down to her more to meet her halfway, taking it in his hold so he could lay a tender kiss to it in the same gentlemanly fashion a chivalrous man would.

“My, what a flirty girl,” He chuckled, “ I noticed how prettily dressed you are today,” He said while gazing down at her painted nails, the popping, hot pink accenting the nails being what he focused on.

She sat in her satin nightgown, legs tucked under her as she was knelt before him, complimented for not the lovely delicate piece with mid thigh length, but for her simply colored fingernails.

To him making love was her using her hands.

It was just her stroking his cock as he ignored everything else that was beyond her wrist. And she couldn't wait for him to leave. She couldn't help but wait in anticipation for him to once again leave throughout the hours of the day , all so she could be free.

Free to do as she pleased.

Free to think of him.

Free to utter his name, pretending that for just a moment, she truly did exist in his world.

Because she'd learned how to play his game , and along the road she'd come to enjoy it as well, wanting so much more from him.

Unbeknown to her, his glaring eyes opened up to see her, intently focused on her entirely, and not just her stroking hands. He gazed at her with interest, more particularly focused on her face and it’s flustered, yet pleasured expression as she knelt before him, her thumb teasingly swiping over the tip of his length’s slickened head.

Mindlessly, her lips twitched before she ran her tongue over the bottom one’s flesh, her mind evaded by the idea of his beautifully shaped cock dipping down her throat as his hands would both part her (h/c) colored hair to tightly bind the stands within his hold, using her mouth with selfishness until he filled her stomach with the hot streams of white.

‘Or better yet,’ She thought to herself, then fantasizing of the long, curved length repeatedly rutting into her unused wetness.

‘How I wish you’d use me… How I wish we’d consummate this marriage.

Though unreal...

Though all a sick creation of yours…

I wish that somehow, I could truly take part in Yoshikage.’

She tried to keep her focus on the task at hand, but she found it nearly impossible to part ways with the lingering thought, especially as she held him within her two hands, the intoxicating scent of his manhood filling her nose, causing little bumps to rise over her flesh.

All the while, blue orbs eyed the red-faced shame she presented as she drew her own gaze far away, off to the corner of the room instead to avoid his sight, while she desperately tried to pull herself together, knowing she would slip if she kept thinking that way.

He immediately noticed their darkened dimness just before they shut tight, right at the moment he jerked his hips up to her warm, soft palms as a clear indicator he had reached his limit.

- And then she bit her lip, her own hips wiggling up, just barely moving to figuratively meet his final fierce thrust.

‘What in the world...What is she doing?’ He asked himself, panting as he finished, his release being less than satisfactory.

The usual, sweet high of the act was left as only an afterthought as he continued to focus more on her instead, annoyance bubbling within him as she yet again found a way to invade his thoughts.

Occasionally, during his quiet, monotonous days at work, he found his thoughts drifting off to the (h/c) haired woman waiting in his home.

He wondered about just what she did all day, as well as if she’d eaten.

If she was well...

If she was happy...or at the very least well adjusted into her new life.

He reasoned with himself that perhaps the only reason why he wondered about her was to make certain she wouldn't be too willing to escape, all so he could keep ‘her’ as fresh and warm as possible.

‘Damn woman...’ He seethed. ‘Coming into my life, and changing everything...’

She was about to stand, when he spoke, directly addressing her,

“ Open your mouth,” he told her, clearly surprising her, it being obvious by the manner in which her eyes opened widely, because he’d never asked her to do such a thing.

It was out of his routine …

She gaped, looking up at him with the same innocence and surprise, irking him,

‘ You know what you’re doing... why act surprised?’ He told himself,

“I said...open your mouth,” he muttered lowly, his sticky index finger's pad brushing over her bottom lip before dipping in, instantly greeting her mouth with a savory taste she quickly found to her liking.

A small groan emitted from her as his finger brushed over her tongue, his taste filling her taste buds with bliss, and for that moment, managing to make her forget the rule that kept her alive, instead driven to a high by the strange, yet erotic act.

She would have pondered more over his actions had it not been for the way his sweetness danced over her wet muscle, fogging her mind.

Watching, he let his middle finger slip within the warmth of her mouth, doing just the same as the first, moving in lax little motions that let her warm muscle move with freedom.

He’d then realized she was greedy, her tongue curling over his slim fingers with eagerness, the pointed tip digging between them to get a small taste of his previous release without having been told to do so.

‘I see then,’ He thought to himself, the lower part of his free palm pressed to her shoulder to push her down, forcing her to let go of his tended hand with a wet , ‘pop.’

He quickly fell to his knees, crawling to her until he was situated between her shaking legs, the man leering down to the little woman with the same curious eyes of a malicious, little feline as he crawled.

He was now interested, a sudden type of interest that made him feel daring.

Without a single second to waste his right hand tightly clamped over her mouth, pressed with full force while the other traveled down, soon meeting her warm overflowing wetness after he pulled apart her thin panties, the flimsy material not made to be so viscously handled.

Without shame the underside of his hand cupped over it to take in the radiating heat, feeling it for himself.

Instantly, she sucked in a harsh breath, her hands moving to take hold of his arm, desperately trying to pull it back by the forearm before it went any further and did anything else.

But it was all without success.

As a response the blonde emitted a low growl, somehow immobilizing her completely, the touch of what felt like phantom hands spreading her arms out to each side, allowing him to continue without a qualm.

Unable to hold himself back, he used the same hand which still retained her warmth to stroke himself, his hardened manhood yet again, excited.

The slickness of his previous release was still there, coaxing his hand with the mess, a tingling, little shockwave running along the line of his spine as he eyed her honeypot that was left for his eyes to gaze upon.

‘What is this feeling...this strange magnetic force?’ He wondered as he led his hand back to her slickened warmth.

Her body quivered as both his index and ring finger fell down to spread her lips, a protesting squeal muffled by his palm as his middle finger experimentally probed her small entrance, easily sliding within.

"Filthy," He grumbled, letting his index take part in the invasion, the two of his cum coated fingers slipping into her heat, slowly eased in until his knuckles were pressed against her warm flesh, "You’re a filthy mess," He told her with icy mockery, his blue eyes staring down onto her startled face, intently focused on her wide (e/c) colored eyes and their glimmering shine, the man swimming in the arousal they invaded him with.

'Slut, ' he mused.

"Is this what happens to you every time?... Every time you are meant to please me instead?" He asked her, receiving a frightened headshake as she denied the accusation, lying to him.

"Liar," He murmured, slowly opening his inserted fingers into a wide V, lowly sighing at the sweet resistance of her velvety walls as he stretched her.

"I could see it in your eyes," He told her, " I could tell by the pathetic, desperate manner you tried to hide it from me," He added while dipping his head down to her chest, nipping at the flesh above her collarbone, earning him a covered up squeal.

" And this here… This is proof you're a desperate, filthy whore," He maundered, adding a third finger, causing her body to writhe, a choked sob hushed by his still pressed hand.

She didn't fight back at the action, instead, she reacted upon it with a show of pleasure, her hands clawing at the floor, her knees both trying to come together to squeeze his hand closer, forcibly stopped as his body was there between them.

Her brain speared into overdrive, all of her reasoning flying out the window as finally, she was being touched by the man she desperately craved.

" I'm hard again," He told her with venom laced in his words, knowing she was to blame.

She was to blame for many things, one other being his lack of sleep.

He’d lost the ability to sleep comfortably unless she was pressed against him, pulled right into his embrace while she had already been lulled and slumbering.

Being the first to wake he’d pull away, his day starting off with exasperation the more and more it occurred.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he'd started smoking, sneaking them during his breaks at work because he just couldn’t calm himself, feeling erratic at the strange invading thought of her he had during those hours.

He would be restless and antsy all the while.

Was she still home?

Had she run off?

Did he have to chain her down?...Was it necessary to do so?

Did she think of him?

Did she eat?

Was she well entertained?

Did she need anything?

What is her favorite color?

He asked himself the stupidest questions, and such mindless pondering made him grow crossed.

"So now, you have to take care of it," He told her, " But of course you won't mind," he went on, feeling her desperately pulse around him, “Will you?” He asked without expecting any worded answer from her, especially not with his hand in the way.

But of course, there was one thing he did beg to know, one thing he itched to have answered because it’d so happen to be something he thought of throughout the day,

“You touch yourself, don’t you?” He asked, wanting to know if she’d been so lewd to please herself while he was left aching in his own desk, unable to grab his cock and relieve his want.

" When I'm gone… I can only assume you use your hands to touch this drenched hole," He accused her, his pace fast and unforgiving as she squirmed, messily groaning beneath his silencing press.

‘Tell me yes ; Admit it to me,’ He shuttered, teased by the fantasy of her rising her hips up to her own drenched fingers, moving just as helpless as she was now,

His hand shushing her then moved, gliding down to cup her chin as his thumb pressed itself against one side of the hollow of her cheek , digging into the soft flesh while on the other side, his index and middle did the same, leaving his last fingers to curl down her jaw with the same fierce grip,

" Answer me," he sneered, needing her to speak." You drive your fingers into your wet cunt when I'm away, don't you?" He interrogated her, already knowing the answer by the way she looked away, hiding her (e/c) colored orbs from him while simultaneously his fingers were given a soft, pleading squeeze.

'Just tell me already,' he inwardly whined, beginning to break.

“Are you mute?” He jeered, being less than kind with the thrusts, “Or simply stubborn? Or is it that you’re rude? Huh?” He went on, the command in his voice furthering her into bliss,

" Ah…. Ki..Kira!" she cried out, “ I…I do!" She finally admitted, crying out the truth to him, "It's true!," She proclaimed, moving her hips to the brisk, repeated movements of his fingers.

Little tears bubbled in her eyes as she was humiliated, left panting and needy while he continued to torture her,

And it was strange, but to hear her say his name, and in such a shameless cry, it made his stomach clench, his already hard cock springing, desiring nothing more than to be drenched by the same sopping heat his fingers were graced by.

He groaned, fingerfucking her until she cried out joyously, almost at the peak of her euphoric release.

His assaulting hand then fell out from her yearning pussy, instead traveling up to her flustered face, his soaked fingers smearing the juices of her excitement all over her lips until she opened her mouth wide, waiting to clean the wet mess without any say needed from his end.

Again, she complied, and he well understood the meaning behind each of her actions, finding himself to be pleased, slowly coming to terms with the little bud of want he'd felt that had begun to flourish, believing that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing.

“You've been good…” he told her, truly meaning it, looking down into her (e/c) colored eyes with a present smile.

Past the annoyance he felt, he felt pride for her, and much more of himself for being the lucky man to snag her.

‘How perfect…

How sweet…’

She’d been so sweet to him, even before bringing her to his home. And perhaps that’s what’d made him so willing to drag her along with him, that overly sweet and kind nature that was so contrasting to all the other rotten women he’d come across.

'Oh darling… forgive my callous behavior with you,' he thought while reflecting back on his actions. 'Had I just accepted this love...Perhaps then you would have been spared of such lonesomeness.'

Tenderly, his hand then caressed her cheek, relishing in the softness, drawn in the by the loveliness of her face,

‘I would have saved myself all the trouble,’ He mused, understanding that it wasn’t entirely her fault that his life had been so altered. ‘If only I hadn’t been such a stubborn brute...If only I’d accepted you just as you did me,’

"(f/n)... sweet kitten," He sang, " Say my name again," he pleaded, his voice carrying a soft, little purr that made his chest vibrate along with the rumbles.

'I've been such an awful husband….but please...please allow me to show you I also crave you…I'll use all of you, just as you've wanted...'

His back straightened, his right hand tugging at his tie until it became undone,

‘ I’ll give myself to you... ‘ He thought while throwing the accessory aside, by then having the only article of clothing he wore be his button up shirt.

‘My love... be greedy with me... take in everything.’ he added while he unbuttered the top, soon left bare before the woman.

‘Is this body to your likening?

Is my form pleasing?

Are you ready to take me?

Oh (f/n),’

He ran his fingers through his wavy, golden locks, pushing them back from his face as they’d begun to obscure her sight from him.

It was then that he reached down for his leaking cock, aiming it towards her dripping wetness with a low heave, teasing her by gliding the head down her warmth, starting from her sweet, little button and ending down to her awaiting cavern,

“If I fuck you earnestly… would you say it again?” He asked her, “Would you so kindly utter my name again,” He asked with a little whine, pushing his stiff dick's head through her little entrance.

"Ah…(f/n) ….my sweet… My perfect, little wife…" he mewled.

It was all so perfect, the quiet peaceful life he wanted seeming to be finally achieved, and the notion furthered him into ecstasy,

' Yes...Yes…Yes…it's all so perfect,' he thought while finally settling into her, having been kind enough to let her adjust, moving only after she began to grind her hips up against his.

- And she saw stars.

After being left wanting and desperate for so long, then edged and needy, the sensation of his generous length finally stretching her had her throw her head back on to the ground,

"Yoshikage…" she breathed, ever so softly, sugar powdered over the name as she uttered it.

His slow, rhythmic pace hitched, a strong jerk forward earning a high whine from her that was horridly crewed.

He loved the quietness, and thus lived happier during those moments, but in that instant, he realized just how amazing she sounded as she cried out so obnoxiously.

'I need more of it,' he claimed while repeating the same action, earning him an equal response of elation, this time more filled with pleasure than surprise.

'My perfect love… ' he thought while repeatedly jerking his hips forward, met halfway by her less powerful thrusts which fell into synch with his, 'My only love,' he added as he slid his hand down, tickling her skin as he softly ran it over her belly and falling down further.

His traveling hand soon stopped, knowing when he'd landed at the perfect spot needed,

‘It’s here,’ he thought to himself, fingers pressed over her little, engorged clit. 'It's here that I'll break you, all in the namesake of love,'

“Say my name again… cry out to the world, “ he said with a wide grin, "Be unhinged…cry out loud, enough for the world to hear my name," he encouraged her, something he'd never thought was possible before,

“You’re… Yoshikage… Kira,” she responded, huffing out little mewls,

"No...No," he said while closing his eyes tightly, " louder...filthier…. Use your salacious tone as though your life depends on it!" He said while his two hands grabbed her thighs, his overgrown nails forming crescents over the soft flesh.

He pulled her even closer, as much as possible before he hooked her legs on each arm, his pace fast and desperate as sweat dripped down from his forehead, his entire body coated with the stickiness.

“ Yoshikage Kira !” She said with desperation, not haveing thought possible to reach such a pleasure until he put aggression into each dive, the wonderful curve of his cock repeatedly reaching her special spot, no longer teasing it with gentleness but full-on attacking it with each move he made.

“The one who's fucking your wet… soaking mess….” He muttered, responding back to her.

' Damn…' He huffed, hunched over her as he moved,

'I...can't...No...

I don't want to stop, ' he panted, not wanting to let their high end, but knowing it was almost over.

"Milk me dry," he told her. "Make no mess… not a single wasted drop," he added, his eyes rolling back as she met him in the final thrust.

‘My darling wife... you’re meant to take in all of my cum...’

Reacting upon pure instinct, his lips came down to hers, pressed together tightly as the last bits of his release shot within her,

" I'll use you from now on...Every bit of you," He warned her, looking deeply into her (e/c) colored eyes as she opened them to him. " So there's no need to use your pretty, little hands," He said while growing a sweet smile, his pink stained cheeks glowing.

Additional little happy end:

Her hands both moved, lightly shaking, the tremendous motion being something that could easily be overlooked. Slowly, they went up to his defined cheeks, stroking them lovingly, her fingers being busy by trailing the contours of his face during the intimate act.

It was something she'd do afterward

- it being the only caress she could provide him that wasn’t a carnal act of pleasure meant to please him.

Lately, she'd been looking forward to the only moment she could truly adore him, touching him as though they truly were lovers.

'Maybe I'm crazy,' She thought to herself, looking up at him, her (e/c) colored eyes staring at the man with unfeigned care. 'For me to want to reach up...Descend my lips on his,' She continued, her eyes fluttering close as she took in a soundless breath, resisting the urge.

'They look so soft … And I just wish they'd fall onto mine,' she longed, the earlier mash having proven to her that they were indeed soft, and much more holding a decadent taste.

But she didn't want to test her luck, not daring to claim one from him.

It was then that his lips fell onto the underside of her hand, causing her heart to bounce with elatedness despite how practiced it was by then.

It was yet another ritual they had, something she should have gotten used to already, but somehow, even during then, found her stomach invaded by a swarm of excited butterflies.

It took all of her will to hold in her pleased sounds, the aftermath of their lovemaking still present.

hidden by the silken, little nightgown her heat dripped with their mix of fluids, the overflowing mixture of their release both leaving her presently shaken.

And to add on to that, he was giving her such sweet kisses.

It just wasn't fair at all.

Because while her lust had been sedated, her heart was still left wanting, desiring him wholeheartedly.

Her eyes then opened up to see him, looking up at his face with the same adoring eyes she always did, whether he cared to know they existed or not.

During then, he smiled, the genuine expression being both boyish and sweet as well as innocent and pure.

His body then fell over hers, causing her to wheeze at the sudden fallen weight before he chuckled. He skimmed down, his head placed onto her chest as he inhaled a deep breath,

“Today…” he started, muttering the single word with a followed up sigh of disappointment, “ Today was a stressful day.” He revealed to her, yet again giving her palm another small, sweet press.

And as usual, she stayed silent, listening to his story, but it seemed as though there wasn't much to tell because he too fell into silence, living through the quiet along with her.

She wanted to tell him to continue, but knowing the rule of their arrangement, she instead swallowed down harshly, keeping the words to herself,

"Love?" He said airily, while lazily his eyes trailed up to her face, his typically piercing icicles warmed to liquid pools as he eyed her with expectancy,

‘Does he… does he want me to speak?’ She wondered, nervous, her stomach knotted as she was left in utter confusion.

Everything was all so sudden to her. Firstly there was the sudden sex, something she'd thought wasn't a possibility. And now, he seemed as though he wanted her to speak, converse with him as though she truly was there for him, every bit of her and not just her caressing hands,

“H-how?” She answered back, softly, and full of uncertainty.

And at the soft blow of air which was her response, he melted furthermore, somehow calmed even greater,

“ Ah,” He sounded, the little, airy sigh sounding pleased, “ Well...We have a new employee, and for whatever reason, I'm the one in charge of training the bumbling fool.” He explained, his brows knitted.

“ And he's nothing more than a complete moron, constantly pestering me for help, having yet to understand the work he'd sworn he’d done before on his resume." He added with frustration.

"He follows me everywhere... "

"That sounds awful," she said with understanding, listening to him with open ears.

"It was," He agreed, " And my back started to ache all the while," he continued on, pouting.

"Would you like me to massage you then?" She asked him, feeling more confident," Or I could just run you a warm bath with nice bubbles and-"

"Could I have both?" He asked her, pleading. "Ah… and...well... could you join me?" he added, sounding bashful at the request." Lather my body...massage my stiff muscles," he begged, rising up more to where his face was before hers,

"It would please me." He said with a small smile, hoping to convince her.

" But… I made dinner and by now...After we've spent all this time, um...together," She trailed off, her face flushed.

"You've yet to eat, and by now it's cold, " She explained, being apologetic.

"No worries," He said to her, " I could compromise with a reheated meal," He told her, "So long as you run me a bath and join me afterward," he said, getting up, pulling her along with him.

Her hands both landed on his naked chest, her (e/c) colored eyes blinking up at him with little hostage stars caught in the orbs,

"Are you certain..?" She asked him, her face married with joy, something he couldn’t overlook.

"A dutiful wife such as yourself," He started, "there's no doubt you've yet again made an exquisite meal for me," He told her.

"I wouldn't waste such a labor of love," He told her, drawing back, "I'm sure that it will taste just fine in an hour or two, besides," He said while his smile stretched out, deviousness glinting in his eyes, " I have another hunger only you can feed," He said while chuckling, his thumb pressed to the point of her chin as he held it, lifting it up to have her lips meet his.

Expecting a kiss she puckered her lips, eyes fluttered close as she was easily strummed by him, getting nothing in return but a playful snicker, his lips landing on the point of her nose instead.

"Yoshikage, please,” She said breathlessly, “let me do it all,” She insisted, her hands both clasped over his, “Please just relax, I’ll...I’ll do it all,” She went on, making him smile, shaking his head.

“Adorable,” he mused aloud, reaching down to hold her waist as he kissed her, his tongue teasing hers,

“My love...” he breathed, fully enamored by her.

Next Part (optional) : Going Out

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.4

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, ANGST, mild smut +18, comedy (i tried), fluff in this chapter

Warnings— Unprotected explicit sex, fingering, blood mentions, death,

Word Count— 6.9k (nice)

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires, making you a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Things are starting to get spicy~

The chilly crisp air that once gently kissed your cheeks had transformed into a biting cold that gnawed at your bones. Dread began to settle in as Taehyung led you by the hand, blissfully unaware of the daunting job you’ve been tasked with. You knew you should have killed him right away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were well aware of the consequences, and now it is time to face the repercussions.

Your jewelry was prepped and loaded with your special poison that consisted of neurotoxins from the deadliest animals. Pufferfish, scorpions, and king cobras were among the lethal mix. You had also laced your anointed silver dagger with the poison, as you would need every advantage you could get to combat Taehyung's strength.

“Would like some tea to calm your nerves, darling?” Taehyung asked sweetly.

“Yeah, that might help,” you shot him a meek smile.

Taehyung nodded and kissed the back of your hand before leaving you to make the tea. His sweet gesture made your heart sink. How could you possibly kill this man? The one and only person you’ve ever loved in your life? Well, even though he was not technically a person, no one had ever made you feel so loved before.

Taehyung quickly returned with hot tea and you gratefully let the cup warm up your hands. He pressed his cold hand against your forehead to check for any sign of illness.

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you assured him.

“The air is getting colder. This is the opportune time for pestilence to strike,” Taehyung chided.

“Ok dad,” you rolled your eyes at him. God, you’re gonna miss this silly banter.

“I thought girls address their significant others by ‘daddy’ now?” he innocently asked, causing you to nearly spit out your drink.

“Some girls yes, but not in this instance. It’s more of a kink,” you explained.

“So was Freud correct in his reasoning?” Taehyung questioned.

“Well, yes and no. I don’t know. His theories are stupid and sexist. I hate that guy,” you concluded.

“I’m inclined to agree, he was rather odd,” Taehyung nodded wistfully.

“You act as if you actually knew him,” you scoffed, knowing damn well that he probably did meet him at some point.

“Of course not, that would be impossible. How old do you think I am?” he tried to joke with you. The subject of time and age always seemed like a touchy subject for him (and rightfully so).

“We’ve been over this. You’re probably centuries old or some shit. You always talk like some old timey character in a cheesy period film.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” you smiled at him.

You really should stop dragging this on. It’s only going to cause more pain. Well, maybe spending just one more day with him wouldn’t be too bad. Nothing you do now is going to avert the pain. You might as well make this final day count.

“Darling?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Yes, my love?” Taehyung gazed softly at you.

“Can you cuddle me all day? And make me feel like the most loved girl in the world?”

“My darling, you are the most loved girl in the world. Nothing in this realm can ever diminish my affections for you,” Taehyung tightly embraced you.

His kind words made you shed a silent tear. You will cherish every last second you had left with him. And that you did. The rest of the day was spent bundled up together under the warm covers of his bed watching Peaky Blinders. You insisted that he finish all of the episodes that day (which was a silly notion to him, but he obliged nonetheless).

It was late afternoon by the time the show was completely binged, and now your stomach was growling relentlessly.

“Hungry?” Taehyung chuckled.

“I believe so,” you clenched your stomach.

“I’ll go whip up some quick sandwiches then. Would you like some tea as well?”

“I can make the tea, you just handle the food,” you ordered.

“As you wish,” Taehyung complied.

It was time. You brewed the tea as you normally would, making sure you acted as if everything was okay. Just like you did before, a quick motion was all it took to pour a lethal dose of your special concoction into Taehyung’s tea.

There was no turning back now. Taehyung happily brought the sandwiches to the table. You smiled at him, fighting to hold back tears. At least your last memory of him would be pleasant.

“I love when you make the tea, it always tastes better than mine,” Taehyung praised you as he brought the cup to his lips.

Your breath hitches as he takes a sip. Immediately his face contorts with disgust and he looks at you with hurt betrayal in his eyes. Your heart breaks as you hesitate for a second; your hand is gripped around the hilt of your poisoned dagger.

With tears streaming down your face, you lunge at Taehyung. He quickly evades you, your blade narrowly missing his neck. Just a scratch of your blade would spell out his doom. Taehyung coughs out as much of the poison as he could.

Again, you propel yourself at Taehyung, zeroing in on his neck. He grabs you by the back of your head and effortlessly flung you across the room. You crash into the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of you. In a split second, Taehyung was in front of you, pulling you up by your hair.

You tried to stab him, but your efforts were futile. He grabbed your wrist with such force that it felt as if it was about to shatter. The dagger falls to the floor and his hand moves from your wrist to your neck.

The pain in his eyes was too unbearable to look at. Tears welled at the bottom of his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find any words to say.

“I could kill you right now,” is all he managed to say.

“Then do it,” you say without any hesitation.

“Go to sleep,” Taehyung demands, his words laced with the most potent magic you’ve ever encountered. In an instant, you were in a deep slumber.

You wake up in an unknown amount of time later. Your hands and legs are tied up to a chair in the middle of Taehyung’s living room. The restraints are so tight that you couldn’t even squirm your wrists or ankles.

Taehyung was rapidly pacing back and forth in front of you. His puffy eyes indicate the waterfall of tears he must have shed while you were knocked out.

“Tae--” you tried to call out.

“Don’t,” Taehyung snapped at you, instantly shutting you up.

He was using his magic now, and there’s nothing you can do to combat it. You had no choice but to sit helplessly as you waited for Taehyung to speak again.

“Why? I thought we had something real. I would have never hurt you. Did I not show you that I am harmless?” Taehyung finally said as he imposingly stood over you, “You may speak. Tell the truth.”

“I was ordered to exterminate you by the VEC. Taehyung you have to believe me when I say I love you. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I regret ever doing it,” you cried.

“Why should I ever trust you again?” he scoffed.

“If I didn’t kill you they would just keep sending more and more agents. You already encountered some before me,” you kept trying to explain.

“I tried to tell the vampire hunting couple that I have not done anyone harm in centuries. I’m sure you’re curious as to how I satisfy my peculiar craving. I pay a very handsome sum to the local hospital, and in return they supply me with endless blood donations. No one is harmed in the process. But those people refused to listen to me. I didn’t want to hurt them, but they gave me no choice,” Taehyung recounted.

“Those people were my parents,” you said softly.

Taehyung’s harsh gaze softened. He didn’t know how to react. He reasoned that avenging your parents may have been a justifiable reason to kill him.

“I’m terribly sorry, ___. I did not want to hurt them, but they were belligerent. I did not have a single moment of peace while they were pursuing me. You must have thought I was a monster this entire time,” Taehyung’s voice cracked, and he turned to hide his face from you.

“No, Taehyung, not at all. I love you. I never really knew my parents, so as awful as it is to say, their deaths didn’t really affect me. I treated this mission like any other, but curiosity got the better of me. Taehyung, I’ve never felt more human than when I’m with you,” tears began to cascade down your cheeks.

Taehyung remained silent and refused to look at you.

“I foolishly thought that the least I could do was give you a quick painless death. I didn’t want you to suffer,” you continued.

“___, I have never known a greater pain than this betrayal. I was willing to give you the world,” he finally turned to you, revealing that he too was crying, “And I still am. I have not been so enthralled by another for as long as I can remember. I do not know what kind of spells you used on me, but I fear that they are unbreakable.”

“Neither of us used any magic on each other before this, Tae. I wish you killed me on the spot when you first saw me,” you wailed.

“And ruin the single most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen? I couldn’t bear to think of it,” Taehyung said softly, gently caressing your wet cheek with the back of his hand.

Taehyung picked up your chair with one hand and brought you to the dining table.

“I’m going to untie you. Please do not try to run away or kill me again. We both know you are no match for me,” Taehyung said sternly.

You nodded quickly, eager to get the restraints off. You obediently sat still after he tore off the rope that bound you to the chair. Taehyung took his place opposite of you. Silence filled the air as tension built. Finally, Taehyung slid his poisoned tea to the middle of the table.

“Since peace does not seem to be an option, I believe it would be best for one of us to die,” he stated.

You stare blankly at him.

“Or perhaps, we could run away together and never look back. I can forgive this little infraction if you can forgive me for my deceit. We were both keeping secrets, and in the end it only harmed both of us,” he continued.

“We both know that can’t happen. The VEC would hunt us down relentlessly,” you disagreed.

Before he could react, you grabbed the cup and consumed its contents in the blink of an eye.

“___! What are you doing!?” he yelled at you, leaping across the table to smack the cup from your hands.

“I have a tracker in my bloodstream, Taehyung. They’ll always be able to find me, and we will never know peace. At least this way, you can flee and continue to live out your life,” you smiled weakly.

It won’t take long for your body to become paralyzed. After all, this was meant to kill vampires, not humans.

Taehyung cradled you in his arms, clutching you close to his chest. He wept over you as your body began to stiffen. Your cognitive abilities will remain intact until the very end. You watched as Taehyung’s heart broke for the second time that day.

“You fool. I don’t care if they keep coming after us. It would all be worth it if it means that I can have you by my side,” he cried as he cupped your cheek.

It was evident that the poison had begun running its course. You couldn’t reply nor could you move any part of your body. Only your eyes could convey your sorrow. Taehyung leaned down to plant kisses on both cheeks before gingerly placing one more on your still lips.

He picked you up bridal style and headed for the door. He walked along the trail on which you used to skip alongside him. The chirping birds that once greeted you were eerily quiet now. The evening dusk hour made the trees cast long spooky shadows along the path. The lake comes into view, but now it looks menacing as fog rolls along the water.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this, ___,” Taehyung said somberly.

You couldn’t say anything, but your eyes expressed your deep heartache.

“Don’t look at me like that, love. It’ll only make this harder,” Taehyung set you down gently on the edge of the dock, “I loved you, you know. I trusted you.”

Taehyung bent down to give you a final kiss. You could feel his sorrow as his cold lips pressed against yours. After parting, Taehyung began to sing. Tears began to roll down your cheeks. Of course, you were crying because you didn’t want to die, but also because you loved Taehyung’s voice so much. It was probably the one thing you’d miss most from this world. Besides Taehyung himself, of course.

“Have I lost myself? Or have I gained you?” Taehyung’s beautiful voice carried through the air.

Taehyung placed you into the lake on your back. You floated for a few seconds before your legs began to dip deeper into the water. Now completely immobile due to your poison, you had no choice but to drown peacefully.

“Please don’t say anything. Reach my hand out to cover the mouth,” Taehyung sang, his eyes never leaving you.

The water engulfed you as your head finally sank below the surface. Taehyung’s voice began to fade away as your lungs filled with water. Is this what your dreams have been warning you about? Have you already seen your own demise? None of that matters now, as the dull light from above the water gets further and further away.

Everything fades to nothingness as the water swallows you whole. Your vision, hearing, and consciousness slip away. Nothing but the frigid lake can be felt now.

Is this really how you’d go? Maybe you deserved it. You did attempt to kill the love of your life. You couldn’t help but be thankful for the time you spent with him.

Water fills your lungs, and you’re certain that your time has finally come. For being raised as a vampire hunter, you managed to stretch out your life expectancy. You closed your eyes for the last time as you sunk further towards the bottom of the lake.

Suddenly a warm light caressed your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open as you desperately gasped for air. All of your senses flood back and it’s incredibly overwhelming. There’s an unbearable white light that temporarily blinds you. Loud indiscernible sounds cause you to crumple to the ground. Soon the loud noises turn into a muffled tone that you can’t quite make you. The light begins to fade away as well.

You finally open your eyes once again, and are shocked by what you see. You’re in a lush garden, surrounded by gigantic trees and beautiful flowers. Birds can be heard chirping overhead.

‘Is this heaven?’ you thought to yourself.

“Not quite yet, child,” a voice boomed from above.

The sudden response made you jump. You looked around to try and find who responded, but to no avail.

‘God…?’ you thought.

“You flatter me, little one,” the voice chuckled.

The voice wasn’t as loud, but was now much closer. It honestly even sounded a little familiar. You turned around to see a giant figure looming behind you. Flowing golden robes elegantly wrapped around the figure. As your eyes focused on it, you saw a familiar face smiling down at you. Wait what the hell? It looked and sounded exactly like Yoongi.

“Let me speak before you ask any more questions,” the faux Yoongi said, “Welcome to Purgatory. You are neither dead nor alive nor undead. Your soul is temporarily in limbo. You must be a rather peculiar human. Most souls merely pop in here for an instant before their fate is decided or they are pulled back into the mortal realm. I have been instructed to converse with you,” the being explained.

“Y-yoongi?” you stammered in your confusion.

“Ah, I am not Yoongi, though I’m sure I resemble that fellow. I am perceived as any being who is held dear by those who gaze upon me. Usually I appear as a lover or a parent. Forgive my curiosity but under which category is ‘Yoongi’ to you?” the being sat beside you.

“Neither. But he’s probably the closest thing I have to a parent,” you shrugged.

“Interesting. Do you have a lover?”

“I think I did before I fucked everything up. What happens now?” you asked. You didn’t want to ponder on why this strange being did not take the form of Taehyung. Surely you held Taehyung more dear to you than Yoongi.

“You get to choose,” the being replied, “Also, I am not a god, upper or lowercase. You can think of me as sort of a cousin to Death. I am inevitable, but much less known,” it must have sensed your eagerness to figure out what it was.

“Do you have a name?” you inquired, now looking at it in awe instead of fear. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were sitting with the real Min Yoongi. However, this being’s powerful aura easily gave it away as an imposter.

“Names are powerful things,” fake Yoongi tsked.

“Surely you know mine. It’s only fair for me to know yours,” you replied, “And I keep calling you Fake Yoongi in my head.”

“You may call me Lethe, as some have called me before,” it said after a long pause.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Lethe. So what is this choosing business? Whether I live or die?”

“Of course,” Lethe said as a matter of factly.

“Wouldn’t it be obvious that I’d want to live?”

“Do you?”

That question filled you with doubt. What happens if you go back? How would you face Taehyung? Would it even be possible to talk it out and pretend like it never happened? Or would you need to go through the ordeal of attempting to kill him again?

“Those are all valid questions,” Lethe nodded.

“I forgot you can read my mind,” you said with surprise, “How long can I stay here?”

“Time does not exist here. But I suppose for your feeble mind to comprehend, I’d say about 2 more hours. At least, that’s what it’ll feel like to you. You can converse with me for the time being,” the immortal sat beside you.

And so it went. Lethe helped you weigh out your options. Lethe taking Yoongi’s form helped you open up. This was the closest thing you’ve ever had to a real heart to heart with a parent. Perhaps Yoongi was more important to you than you thought.

Lethe had already known every detail of your life, as they do with all those who pass through their domain. It was clear that you weren’t ready to die. You were just lost on what to do when you go back.

“Time is nearly up, little one,” Lethe softly said, “Have you made your decision?”

“Yes. I want to go back to the land of the living,” you smiled.

Lethe returned your smile as they began to wave their hands above you, making you instantly sleepy.

“I’ll be happy to see you again when it’s finally my time to go,” you managed to make out before letting out a yawn and shutting your eyes.

“That would be nice, little one. But no one ever remembers me,” Lethe said in a bittersweet tone as they sent you back to the mortal plane.

“___? ___! ___ wake up!” you heard muffled yells.

Your eyes opened slowly, but it was too dark to see anything. Your entire body ached. Bitter chills began to set in as you realized you were sopping wet, making the wintry air even more unbearable.

You drop back into a state of unconsciousness, but you swore you still faintly heard someone calling out your name.

“You didn’t have to come here yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I lost her parents. I can’t afford to lose her too. Why the fuck didn’t you step in immediately?”

“You ordered me to observe her, and that’s exactly what I did. She would be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“I’m gonna kill that bloodsucker myself.”

“...Yoongi…?” you weakly called out, your eyes still closed.

“___?!?” you heard the men scramble to your side.

The sheets you were wrapped in were warm. The biting cold that hurt your bones had faded away. Your body ached beyond belief, and you didn’t have the strength to sit yourself up.

“___, are you okay? I’ll get you some water,” a familiar voice said. It must be Jungkook.

“___? Are you awake?” Yoongi’s voice was much closer now.

“Yoongi?” you repeated while your eyes slowly opened to adjust to the light.

“Oh my god. Thank god you’re okay,” Yoongi pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“We really thought you were done for,” Jungkook handed you a glass of water.

“I thought I was too. I really think I died for a little bit. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but all I can recall is a bright light and maybe a forest? I think Yoongi was there?” you replied in a daze.

“Well, I was the only person with you until Yoongi showed up so I’m not sure about that. Unless you mistook me for Yoongi, which I take offense to,” Jungkook half smiled before taking a serious tone, “I saw him dump you in the lake. Why didn’t he drain you first?”

“Extremely tactless of you, Jungkook,” Yoongi admonished.

“He hasn’t harmed a living person in a long time. Well, except for my parents,” you softly answered.

“Come to think of it, he didn’t drink your parents’ blood either,” Yoongi stated.

“Please don’t hurt him. Please leave him alone. He won’t hurt anyone,” you begged.

“He hurt you, ___. For that, he needs to die,” Yoongi said sternly.

“I poisoned myself,” you admitted.

“What?” Yoongi and Jungkook said in unison.

“I...I love him. I told him to flee and live in peace after I sacrificed myself,” you began to cry.

“Are you stupid?” Yoongi asked in disbelief, “That thing killed your parents!”

“In self defense! They wouldn’t leave him alone after he told them numerous times to back off!”

“How do you know that? How do you know he wasn’t lying?” Yoongi argued.

“I can tell! You of all people should know that a vampire hunter doesn’t survive for long unless they can detect deceit in any and every form.”

“Sir, pardon me, but I think she’s telling the truth,” Jungkook interjected.

“Unbelievable. You too, Jungkook? Are you in love with the vampire too?” Yoongi scoffed.

“No. I just believe in her. When has ___ ever deviated from a mission? She’s your top agent. I don’t think she’d let herself get swept up by seductive charms,” Jungkook reasoned on your behalf, “I spoke with her yesterday. There was no trace of magic on her. Hopefully my word as your second highest agent means something. Plus, I’ve seen her express more emotion this past week than I have her entire life.”

“Jungkook,” you gratefully smiled at him.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do then? Just let him go without any consequences? I will not let your parents’ deaths go unavenged,” Yoongi crossed his arms.

“Let me talk to him,” you requested.

“What are you gonna say?” Jungkook joined you on the bed.

“I…” you trailed off.

What can you say to him? For one, he thinks you’re dead. You can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. Anger? Sadness? Maybe he would be temporarily happy if you returned to him. However, it wouldn’t be long until your betrayal hurts him again.

“I just want to see him,” you finally say, “I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi shook his head, “I’m not sending you back without a plan.”

It took three days before you fully regained your strength. Yoongi and Jungkook took turns taking care of you. Jungkook offered to help you bathe, but you turned him down with a glare.

“Can HQ function properly without you?” you asked Yoongi in the kitchen.

He turned around quickly, surprised that you’re out of bed, “___! Sit down, don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I’ve been in bed for too long,” you shooed him away.

“I guess we can all have dinner together at the table tonight. I made fried chicken,” Yoongi said triumphantly, “Also, I haven’t had a day off in years. The VEC can handle itself for a little bit longer.”

“The chicken smells amazing, Yoongi. I’m gonna take a shower because I feel and smell disgusting.”

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Jungkook materialized out of nowhere.

“Sure, you wanna help me take a shower?” you peered up at him.

“Are you being serious?” Jungkook’s doe eyes widened.

“Yep. The only condition is that I’m going to kill you afterwards,” you deadpanned.

“Mm so you’d still want to take at least one full shower with me,” Jungkook teased.

“Shut up, bunny boy,” you rolled your eyes.

You could hear Yoongi chuckle to himself behind you. It must be a relief to see you back to normal and bickering with Jungkook as if nothing happened.

Flashbacks of your last encounter with Taehyung filled your head as warm water cleansed your body. You didn’t know what you’d do, but you made up your mind. You needed to see him. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again. You longed to feel his soft lips on yours.

Dinner was full of smiles and playful banter. The food was delicious (fried chicken was Yoongi’s speciality) and it tasted even better since you hadn’t been able to eat solid food in days.

“So, what are we gonna do now that ___ is feeling better?” Jungkook questioned with a mouth full of food.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” you affirmed.

“Again, what are you going to talk about?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

The rest of the evening was spent devising a plan. It took a lot of convincing by both you and Jungkook, but Yoongi finally gave in. It seemed like even Jungkook was hesitant about the plan, but backed you up nonetheless. Jungkook and Yoongi would be your backup in case things went south.

The next day you drove to Taehyung’s home. The drive that you once happily made now brought you dread. You had no idea how Taehyung would react. You just prayed that he wouldn’t kill you on the spot.

It was now well into the winter season. Snow covered the ground and frosted the windows of Taehyung’s weathered home. Knocking on the front door may not be the best move, but it’s what you decided to do. There was no answer. You tried to turn the knob to find that the door wasn’t locked at all.

You snuck through the front door, cautious not to make any sounds. Something was amiss. Someone as cautious as Taehyung would never leave their front door unlocked. The house was eerily quiet.

He was nowhere to be found on the first floor. You journeyed up to the second story in the hopes of finding him. A rustling from his room was heard.

You tiptoed to his room, the door was wide open. Taehung was staring out of his bedroom window. The world seemed still for a moment. You quietly walked into the room, and realized that the room was filled with bouquets. Flowers ranging from lillies, chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses made the room smell sickly sweet.

“Taehyung,” you called out to him.

He turned to you to reveal his tear streaked face. His eyes were red and puffy. He cast a disinterested gaze at you before he shooed you away with one hand.

“Go away. You’re not real. When will this hell end?” he sighed.

“Tae, my darling, I am real,” you approached him slowly.

“My own imagination won’t let me live down my guilt, huh? I suppose I deserve it,” he replied sadly, turning back to face the window.

“Taehyung, I’m right here, dumbass,” you say with more conviction as you hug him from behind.

He jumped at your touch, whipping around to face you with inhuman speed. His cold hands gently cupped your face, as tears began to fall from his eyes.

“How? There’s no way you can be real. There’s no way that you’re ___,” he cried out, hugging you tightly.

“You better believe it, Taehyuung. I didn’t come back from the dead to be ignored,” you tried to joke, but your voice gave you away.

It was a bittersweet reunion. Tears freely fell, wet kisses were shared, and best of all, you were in each other’s arms again. Any fear you had regarding awkward tensions had dissipated.

Taehyung held you in his arms as you recounted the past few days. You came clean to him about being a vampire hunter, and about how you were the VEC’s top hunter. You started to cry again as you told him about the inner turmoil you struggled with ever since you met him. Taehyung listened intently to everything you said, clutching you closely the entire time.

“The President of the VEC knows that you’re here?” he asked after you finished.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Is he going to kill me?” he seriously inquired.

“He may try, depending on the choices you make today,” you replied.

“What choices do I have? I’ll receive any consequences you deem fit,” he kissed your forehead.

“How do you feel about working for the VEC? It took a lot of arguing, but Yoongi agreed that if I can keep you in check, you would be allowed to work with me. However, one slip up and you’re dead. Those were his words exactly,” you explained.

“What exactly does a ‘slip up’ entail?” he questioned.

“Killing and/or eating any humans. You would only be allowed to kill vampires. The VEC would ensure that blood will always be provided to you to avoid any hunger killings,” you laced his fingers between yours, as if this was any normal casual conversation.

“My ultimatum is that I either work for the VEC to kill my own kind or to die? Is that correct?” he clarified.

“That sounds pretty harsh. But yes, those are your only options.”

“What if I kill all of you instead?”

“Okay, you have three options then.”

“But only one of them will allow me to spend my life with you,” he replied gently.

“You’ll do it? You’ll work with me at the VEC?” your eyes lit up.

“If it means I get to be with you, of course. Vampires are solitary creatures anyway. I have no remorse for my kind that resort to needless violence,” he planted a tender kiss on your lips.

“In that case, I have one more condition. This is a personal request,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, my darling,” Taehyung cooed.

“Turn me.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, stunned by your request. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I finally found a real reason to live, and it’s you. I had just been going through the motions until I met you. Please, Taehyung. I want us to stay like this. Forever,” you pleaded.

“Do you know what you’re asking, ___? You’ll be dead, just like me. You’ll be dependent on feeding on human blood. I’ve had countless years of practice, but the hunger can sometimes become uncontrollable,” Taehyung tried to reason with you.

“I would have you to help me through all of that,” you stroked his cheek.

“What if the VEC decides to hunt us down?”

“Then we can flee together. Or we can fight them. I don’t care, as long as we’re together. You don’t have to do it right now, but just know that I want it,” you say in a defeated tone.

“If you’re sure,” Taehyung gripped a handful of your hair and tilted your head back, “I’ll do it.”

“Then do it. Bet you won’t,” you teased to hide your nervousness.

He chuckled at your response. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, before licking a long stripe along it. The tingling sensation made you moan. Taehyung’s hand found its way between your thighs. He slowly began to rub your clit while seductively whispering in your ear.

“I’ve been dreaming of doing this since the first time I saw you,” he growled.

You took off your pants to grant him easier access to your intimate spots.

“Good girl,” he praised, slipping a finger into you.

You moaned as he added another one. You felt your body clenching as he brought you closer to your climax. His fingers curled perfectly and his pace quickened. He had simultaneously been kissing your neck the entire time.

“You smell so fucking good, darling,” his deep voice resonated in your ear, “I can’t promise that this won’t hurt. But I do promise to fuck your brains out after.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. You had been holding out long enough. You reached your high as his sharp fangs bit into your neck. The initial puncture hurt, but it began to feel better as soon as Taehyung lapped up the blood. Taehyung suckled your neck as his fingers played with your clit.

“T-tae t-that’s too much,” you struggled to say.

“Don’t act as if you can’t take it, darling,” Taehyung growled in response.

He threw you on your back. He let you have a second to catch your breath, as he tore off his blood stained shirt. He dove right back into feeding from you, but now his hard crotch was grinding against your wet exposed core.

“I have to warn you, this next part may be a bit unpleasant for you,” he stated as he licked the blood off of his lips.

This sight of a bloody Kim Taehyung was oddly erotic. Knowing that it was your blood on him strangely made it even more hot.

Taehyung bit his own wrist. He held his bleeding wrist over your mouth.

“Drink,” he ordered.

You did as you were told, hesitantly licked his wrist. The metallic taste caused you to cringe.

“It won’t work if you don’t do it,” he scolded.

You grabbed his wrist and brought it to your mouth. You sucked on the wound hard, swallowing as much as you could. Taehyung groaned, the sight of you feeding from him turned him on more than he could imagine. You couldn’t take it anymore after a few minutes. You stopped to get some air.

“That should be good enough, darling. Well done,” Taehyung kissed your forehead.

“How will I know if it worked?” you asked.

“It takes a little while for my blood to circulate throughout your body. It’ll happen, don’t worry. For now…” his voice trailed off as his hand returned to your pussy.

“Do you want me to make you feel good again?” he teased, his fingers lightly tracing your lips.

“I thought you promised that you’d ‘fuck my brains out’?” you deviously smiled.

“I do intend to make good on that,” he returned your sly smile.

He flipped you onto your stomach, and propped your ass up. He gave it a good slap, one that stung for a few seconds afterwards and immediately turned your ass red.

He ran his length along your pussy, coating himself with your juices. He teased you by slowly putting just the tip in before coming back out. You didn’t have the energy to be your normal cheeky self. You patiently waited for him to ease into you. His hand came around to grip your neck, forcing your head upwards.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he growled, as he finally gave you his entire length.

His hips bucked into you ferociously, his grip still firmly around your neck. Your neck was still sore from being bitten into, but at this point you didn’t care. You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, and Taehyung was drilling directly into your g spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he panted.

“Please fuck me as hard as you can. I really can’t keep up with you much longer,” you managed to say.

“Sure thing, darling,” Taehyung obliged.

He pounded into you harder with speed that you couldn’t handle. He let go of your neck, allowing you to collapse onto your chest. His hands gripped your ass instead. His strokes became sloppier, indicating that he was now close to his limit.

With a sudden grunt, Taehyung released his load into you, his hot semen filling you up. He leaned over to you, and you thought he was going in for a kiss, but he licked your neck instead. You didn’t realize that you were still bleeding. You turn to the side to give him better access. After the bleeding stopped, he cuddled you, pressing his chest against your back.

“You have the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted,” he kissed your ear.

“Thanks I guess? Have you ever tasted a diabetic? That might change your opinion,” you laughed.

“I can’t recall. I just know that no one has ever tasted better,” he squeezed you tighter, “Also creeping thistle.”

“Huh?” you turned to look at him in confusion. Was he speaking in code?

“You asked what kind of flower I thought you were before. I believe I can give you my answer now,” Taehyung replied thoughtfully.

“Okay I’ll bite. What does a creeping thistle look like?”

“You know those tall purple flowers you see on the sides of the road? Those are creeping thistles,” he answered. You paused to recall driving past them.

“Wait, those are weeds!” you cried out in disbelief, “You think I’m a pest like a weed?”

“They are weeds, yes. They are resilient, persistent, and can hurt you if you’re not careful around them,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Those don’t really sound like compliments--”

“But they also produce beautiful purple flowers that go unappreciated. Purple is my favorite color,” Taehyung interrupted you.

“Fine, I’ll take it since you said they’re beautiful or whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes, but you were touched by the thought that went into his answer. You noticed you were growing colder by the second, and snuggled closer to Taehyung to try and produce some body heat. He noticed this and helped you get under the covers before cuddling with you again.

“You’re going to die tonight. Don’t worry, that’s part of the process. I’ll be by your side the entire time. You’ll be like me in the morning,” he kissed your forehead.

“Will it hurt?” you asked, slightly scared.

“The worst is over. The most excruciating part is when my blood begins to circulate in yours, but I think I successfully distracted you from that pain,” he smirked.

“Oh I’m sure that was the only reason you dicked me down senseless. Thank you for your generosity,” you laughed.

Your body began to feel heavy yet weightless at the same time. Panic began to set in. The feeling was similar to when you drowned in the lake. Your breathes became more strained as you struggled to inhale sufficient oxygen. Sensing your distress, Taehyung held you tighter and whispered a single word into your ear.

“Sleep.”

“You look pretty harmless.”

“I try to be, for the most part.”

“Jungkook! Get away from him. Don’t talk to him. Taehyung, if that’s even your real name, you’re on thin fucking ice. If ___ doesn’t wake up when you say she will I’ll put your pretty little head on a spike.”

“You think he’s pretty?”

“Shut up Jungkook.”

You slowly opened your eyes after hearing the men bicker. You woke up to find all three of them standing in front of the bed. Jungkook had an uncharacteristically somber look on his face while Yoongi looked gloomier than usual. You could tell that Taehyung had reverted back to his reserved state in their presence.

“Yoongi? Why are you here?” you questioned. You started to panic. Did Taehyung admit to turning you? You hadn’t even thought about how to break the news to Yoongi. If you weren’t dead now then you’d surely be dead after Yoongi found out.��

“Your phone rang. I answered “Yoongles” who had some rather choice words for me. I told him that you were fine and resting. He barged in immediately after that,” Taehyung explained.

“Yoongi I told you that I would--”

“I’m beyond relieved that you’re still alive. I only called because it was urgent and--”

“The VEC was attacked,” Jungkook butted in.

“What?” you were shocked.

“We’re the only ones left,” Yoongi stated.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #bangtanshadowfamily #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bts vampire #bts angst #vampire taehyung #taehyung angst #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic

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shsldepressedlesbian · 4 years

Text

ao3

“komaeda?” he coos softly, but he knows it isn’t enough to even shake the figure beside him. perhaps, subconsciously, he doesn’t want to shake him.

afterall, it’s hard to want to disturb the other’s rest, not when he looks so… peaceful.

it had undoubtedly been a long day- the foundation already had been no stranger to overwork, but this time, it had seemed even more like a drag. it had already been dark by the time hinata had been let off, and accompanying him close by, had been no other than komaeda himself.

when he had asked hinata for a ride, of course he didn’t hesitate to let him. afterall, they usually ended up driving to the apartments together. practical, considering their “roommate” status.

with the long drive and dark sky, hinata couldn’t blame komaeda for passing out. he had already looked exhausted when they met up, even if he had the same “bright” attitude he always had.

he hadn’t even been paying attention until they had finally parked in the driveway, finally turning his head to look at his partner.

hinata has become used to komaeda’s sleeping tendencies. normally, it always looks like he’s merely in a doze- one without movement or sounds, but still. he wouldn’t call it peaceful, usually, and that was especially apparent when komaeda was having a nightmare.

(that’s always the most obvious to tell. hinata had witnessed it quite a few times- his knuckles tight and face white, yet the only movement from him even then was just his faint shivering.)

but the way komaeda was now… hinata couldn’t help but stop and just stare, as though worried he would never be able to see the sight again.

he looked so gentle there, eyes softly shut and head tilted down ever so slightly, as much as his seatbelt would allow. breathing quiet and soft, fitting in with the nightly driveway atmosphere noises.

“pretty” is another word that comes to his mind. it’s an offhand thought, really, but he can’t help but find himself stupid for thinking about it in the first place.

(even if it’s a word he could easily describe komaeda with. everything about him is fundamentally “pretty”- even stuff that really shouldn’t be, like his worryingly pale, thin body, or his cold, almost shaky hands.)

hinata can’t help but lay his chin on the steering wheel of the car, gazing at the man with the corners of his eyes. besides the noises in the background mixed with komaeda’s faint breathing, it’s almost completely silent, and that in itself is comforting.

hinata can already feel his fatigue catching up to him as well- normally he was use to staying up for long nights, and thus wasn’t usually affected by it until he got to his bed, but with just how slow the world feels right now, it’s beginning to catch up to him.

the sight of his sleeping companion isn’t helping either, and hinata wonders if it really would just be nice to pass out alongside him.

...but no, komaeda would definitely wake up before him, and that would lead to just a whole bunch of teasing he’s not sure if he wants to go through.

and so, to keep himself awake, he reverts his full attention to the man in question, who has yet to even move an inch at all. hinata vaguely wonders how long he’ll sleep if he doesn’t wake him up.

this isn’t any kind of slumber he’s seen from komaeda before. not the content kind, or his usual tired, silent kind.

this was different: a gentle kind you would see from a dozing classmate only a seat away from you, looking completely ordinary, like nothing in the world could disturb them.

“ordinary”. “normal”. “domestic”.

perhaps the reason why hinata was looking into it so much was because he found it hard to associate those words with the komaeda he knew. the komaeda who he still barely understood.

he’s because so used to the abnormality of their relationship it had just become his normal. the idea that he’ll have to go his whole life always wondering about the truth of nagito komaeda being something he’s accepted, despite struggling not to.

because, truthfully, he wants to know the truth of nagito komaeda, but something in him also tells him he doesn’t. like a scientist digging into insane theories and timelines that he knows he’ll regret finding the truth of, but still finds it necessary because he wants to know.

the nagito komaeda who had shown him kindness in that simulation. the nagito komaeda who had broken down in front of him and everyone else, becoming this pile of nonsense about “hope” and “ultimates”, such figurative ideas that he had become obsessed with.

(and that once, hinata was obsessed with, to.)

the nagito komaeda who had scorned him the minute he learned the “truth” about hinata.

the nagito komaeda who had left the simulation, who was the manifestation of everything he had been in there.

(and in that way, perhaps he felt a familiar connection with him.)

the nagito komaeda who hinata had desperately tried to hate, but couldn’t find it in himself. the nagito komaeda who had made him feel intense and confusing emotions which he had never felt for anyone else, except for one girl, and even then, it had been so much more simple with her.

this was the nagito komaeda who was sleeping in the passenger seat of his car, sleeping like any ordinary, simple, overworked businessman you would see anywhere on the subway.

it almost makes hinata want to laugh, or even cry.

and yet, despite all of these complicated feelings stirring in his head, all of this that was between them, hinata didn’t want to become the scientist that wasted his whole life on the truth of the forbidden subject, just for it to break him to the point of becoming an alcoholic mess.

his desires to fully understand the komaeda he knew were futile, he knew that. he’d like to think that he’d be able to, someday, with his newfounds “talents”, but only to boost his fragile, non-existent ego.

it’s only fair, isn’t it? afterall, it was already impossible for komaeda himself to understand hinata now. the reserve course, the man who had wasted his life by obsessing over talent ever since he was a child, who signed his life away for a bunch of scientists to get their holds on a teenager, even the man who had been in the simulation, who had first met “komaeda”, was long gone.

replaced by the entity of izuru kamukura, parading the personality and memories of the boy who would never be able to recover himself, no matter how much he clawed at the surgery scars alongside his forehead.

to live a domestic life together, teetering on the edge of something bigger, more sinister, more tragic, something they couldn’t say to each other without risk of losing their holds. that’s what their relationship was destined for, truly.

and yet, would that be bad? a domestic life, even with repressed, dark thoughts, would still be domestic.

the idea of waking up to komaeda every morning, reading together, doing mindless, soft, sappy stuff together, until they were brutally torn apart in each other’s arms by the forces of a supernatural, screwed up thing like “luck”...

even if they would always be in confusion of the other, they would still always understand each other more than anyone else could or would. and surely, that was enough.

there was no such thing as a “perfect relationship” or a “happy ending”. there was only a future, the thing that had always remained as the one truth in this fucked up world, something that was relevant even when they were freaks who were causing it’s destruction.

when all you have is one another, you grow attached to each other.

and that was enough for hinata, despite everything inside him shouting at him that it wasn’t.

i wish that i could sleep like that, he smirks to himself, rising his head from the steering wheel. even through his whole introspection, komaeda had remained as quiet and peaceful as ever.

the only thing that had changed was some soft strands of hair falling into his face, and hinata, finding that they were kind of obscuring his view, hesitantly reached out a hand, gently stroking them behind komaeda’s ear, trying to be careful enough to not wake him.

still holding out his hand, hinata takes a second to just watch komaeda’s face. as calm as ever, and in this state, with the only light illuminating them being the car’s inside one, he was definitely even more pretty than usual.

that idea of waking up every morning to him begins re-entering his mind…

“isn’t it rude to stare, hinata-kun?”

it’s a miracle hinata doesn’t accidentally slap komaeda with how fast he pulls his hand back, straightening up with his eyes widened.

the man who he previously thought was deep in slumber chuckled, though it sounds more breathy than usual, opening his faintly-colored eyes to give hinata an amused look. the man feels his face going red, but furrows his brows.

“you- have you been awake this whole time!?”

as though to answer his question, komaeda yawns, stretching his arms out. he blinks a few times at hinata, as though still trying to wake up.

“oh, no, of course not. just for the past few minutes. when i did wake up, however, you were looking at me so intensely to the point where i could feel it, so i was scared to move, haha!”

“you- that’s-” it’s embarrassing how hinata finds himself stuttering like an awkward high schooler, so he bites his tongue and closes his eyes to regain his posture. it’s hard to do when he hears komaeda laugh at him, that same wheezy sound, but at the very least, he changes the subject.

“ah, i won’t blame you for it, though. rather, it was rude of me to fall asleep in someone else’s car, so i’ll apologise for that.”

“you don’t have to,” hinata immediately jumps on the subject. “today was pretty… tiring, so i don’t blame you either.” he ponders briefly if he should admit to wanting to fall asleep as well, but komaeda continues before he can add anything else.

“tiring, huh?” he murmurs almost to himself, before giggling to himself in the way he does when finding something funny for no reason. “ah, i suppose i can’t deny that.

“though, i am curious…” he looks at hinata with a newfound mix of curiosity and amusement, the suggestive kind that already has him blushing a little. “what hinata-kun could want, staring but not waking me up?”

hinata not so subtly looks away, covering his mouth with his hand to hide some remnants of his expression, though causing his response to be somewhat muffled. “i wasn’t staring. just zoning out. thinking.”

“oho? thinking about what?”

komaeda’s tone is playful enough to make hinata a little peeved, if not a little red. “nothing that you're thinking of, that’s for sure.”

this earns him another, genuine laugh from komaeda, which causes him to glance over to him again. a faint pink is dusting his face, though far from hinata’s more colorful blush. however, this only seems to make his expression, which has some underlying tiredness(most likely the cause of his boldness right now)to it.

“i would hope not, actually,” he muses, tilting his head a little. “i’d much rather sleep the rest of the night away. though, it’d be hard to go against hinata-kun’s desires.”

“oi, i want to sleep as much as you do,” hinata fires back, which gets him another grin from komaeda. it’s contagious, and he finds himself returning it.

“hm, even then,” komaeda leans towards hinata, raising a brow, “i’m sure you want something, right?”

the faux innocence of the question, mixed with that suggestive voice, agitates hinata for no real reason other than how effective it is for him.

komaeda would probably never be able to understand him fully, but he understood enough to get under hinata’s skin. and that itself almost infuriates him. it’s one of the many little things he both hates and adores about him- another conflict over something so simple.

“asshole,” he mutters affectionately, before leaning towards him as well. the only thing he gets is a small absentminded hum from komaeda, which hinata suddenly decides he wants to turn into something much more… gratifying.

it’s a small, soft kiss, but when hinata aims to deepen it, he finds himself confused when komaeda almost immediately pulls away.

his expression is lustful, as it usually is when they do stuff like this, but there’s a sort of a restraint to his eyes and stiffness to his smile. “though, you know, hinata-kun, if there’s something else you want to say, you should say it.”

hinata pauses, perplexed, before finally registering what he had said.

of course- komaeda knew there was more to that longing staring, to that hesitance to give him a solid answer when he had asked about what was on his mind. komaeda knew him best, afterall, and that makes hinata want to shut him up even more so.

yet, to the same degree, the other wasn’t a mind reader. he knew hinata best, yet barely understood his thought process, as did hinata for his.

there is many things hinata wants to say right now, but that’s always the case. always so many questions he wants to ask and so many thoughts to shout out, so much prodding of “what’s happening between us?” and “do you just like toying with me?”.

and yet, he’s come to learn that the only way to keep this peaceful, temporary, gentle lingering going was to not question any of it. to only open it when times for it appear, before it eventually does burst.

he wants this- the peace of being able to sit alone in a quiet car with komaeda, to give casual acts of affection that come as second nature. he doesn’t want to have to say anything, or question anything, between them.

to be in love with nagito komaeda was to be in love with a stranger who you knew every inch of, if only they could have that ‘in love’ part. if only they could have their silly little future together.

“i have nothing to say at all,” he lies, and remedies it with his lips, holding komaeda’s face and allowing him to live in this kind, terrifying ignorance.

#pineapple writes #awww yeahhh i can write apparently lolol #komahina #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #confusement and betrayal: komahina

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.30}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Yet. Right." Robin repeated in a sigh, then removed her wand from her hair when the bun started hurting her head. It did little to lessen the headache that was starting to drum through her skull, but shaking her hair out of the restraint at least took some of the tension away. Little victories like that were important too.

"Actually, we do have a few answers now." Snape said after a moment, after again watching gravity at work on untangling the mess of waves cascading down Robin's back. "Morgan did come in here, and he most likely was talking about the portrait today indeed. We still have to see about the earrings, in due time. Other than that, we now have an answer to a question that goes all the way back to the start of this term."

"What do you mean?"

"The night of the welcoming feast. Morgan brought it up himself today, which quite honestly is what made me draw the connection in the first place."

"Right… You mean the entire ordeal in the hallway which McGonagall brought to an end."

"Yes. During your encounter back then, Morgan wanted to hold on to your locket as a keepsake. That line of behavior would certainly make more sense if at that point he already was in the possession of the portrait, seeing as the locket is perhaps not the most obvious, but indeed the most palpable connection between you and the woman portrayed. He hardly would have known about the locket otherwise, seeing as it isn't the most noticeable piece of jewelry."

"You're absolutely right… I should've thought of that connection way earlier!" Robin groaned in annoyance at herself, astonishment at the fact, and concern at the implications. How Snape even remembered little details like that was incredible in its own right, but the fact that Morgan might have been after the locket because of the portrait was a revelation she hadn't thought would clear the picture of the past events in her mind quite so much. Things at last started making a little more sense. "My locket and the portrait are connected somehow, that much we already could tell years ago. But it makes me uneasy to think that Morgan has something to do with it."

"Likewise. Perhaps you should take it off for the time being, until the issue is solved."

"Yeah… The bracelet too, probably, sad as that makes me. It was the first thing you gave to me that I didn't have to return by the end of the week like the books I borrowed." She smiled up at him, a sad half smile that showed defeat more than humour. "But you were the first person who ever gave me anything for my birthday at all, who ever thought of me in the first place, and that's all that matters to me. I can live without a piece of jewelry."

"I really was the first to give you a gift for your birthday? In all of eighteen years?"

"Yes. The very best gift even, when you got Jorien and Cas to make me see the day as a real celebration worth having. But I have to admit, you asking Dumbledore to take the bracelet out of this room was also-..." Robin cut herself off in the middle of her sentence, then stopped in her track and stood glued to the spot. The nagging in her mind turned into a sledgehammer that tore down the brick wall that had obscured her sight before, but now that it was gone, she could finally see. Or rather, she could wonder.

"What is it?" Snape asked as he came to stand right in front of her, both concerned and curious as ever. That really was a good way to sum up both of their sentiments currently, concerned and curious. "Robin?"

"Wait a second…" She replied on autopilot, while her mind pondered a question that she finally decided to voice when she couldn't answer it herself. "When you wanted to give me the bracelet, did you ask Dumbledore before or after removing it from this room?"

"Before, obviously, because-…" Now it was him who stopped in the middle of the sentence, when he caught on to Robin's line of thought. "Because one cannot remove from this place what was left for storage here without the current headmaster's permission."

"That's what I thought." Robin replied with a long breath, then jumped into action to look around herself in a sudden spark of adrenaline, upon which she finally picked up a random book from a pile to her right. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, it-..." He didn't get any further, for Robin had crossed the remaining few steps towards the door, then opened it and tossed the book through the opening and out into the hallway beyond. She tried to, at least, for the book got caught in the air in the middle of the door frame, floating there for but a broken second, before it was catapulted right back into the room of hidden things at a speed that turned the harmless piece of literature into a lethal projectile. Robin was just lucky that Snape pulled her out of the way in an instant, otherwise the flying book would have taken quite a bit of work off Morgan's hands. They didn't have time for her timely end right now!

"You really are remarkable at putting yourself in harm's way." Snape huffed in concern-turned-annoyance when the loud clattering of the book's distant landing had subsided, and it was just then that Robin realized how desperately he was clawing onto her right now. She felt bad for repeatedly scaring him in an instant; first the thing with Morgan –which hadn't technically been her fault, but it still counted to worry him– and now this thoughtlessness on her end. Or rather the result of too much thinking, and too little care for the real world results in contrast to the intellectual gain of the endeavour. Why was she only ever truly scared of getting hurt by people, not by something she did to herself? It was one more thing to work on at some point.

"You're remarkable at keeping me out of harm's way in return. And to be fair, I didn't think it would do that out of all the things it could've done." She finally replied with a weak half smile as she looked up at him. No. Humour wouldn't do now, that much was clearly written on his face. She sighed in resignation. "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me, I should've known better. This whole day, the thing with Morgan… it has thrown me into an odd ambivalence myself. I'm absolutely terrified and at the same time all the adrenaline makes me act like I'm bloody invincible. But that's no excuse, it really was just stupid of me and I'm sorry."

"Coming that close to death doesn't pass by anyone without consequences. Neither does torture." He said after a few seconds of silence, with an expression almost as guilty as Robin's own. "It is only too reasonable that your behaviour is rather erratic, and even if I cannot say I appreciate it, I do very well understand it. If anything, I am surprised by how well you seem to cope with the situation."

"It's not the first time I've come closer to death than anyone should. Only the first time I know who the person is that wants to see me dead." She shrugged in return, but after taking one glance at the expression of prevailing concern on Snape's face, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and gave in to the urge to lean into him once more with a sigh. She knew that he didn't mind in the least… and the work that kept her on her feet might as well wait for a minute. "To be honest, it's currently less coping and more of simply repressing and pushing through. Just wait until tonight when I actually have the time to come down from the adrenaline… It'll be a nightmare."

"I will be there." He replied quietly, holding her closer against himself than his calm demeanour would suggest, then remained silent for a moment longer before speaking on. "Stay with me tonight."

"That must be a first." Robin chuckled quietly, but kept her eyes closed to enjoy at least this short moment of calm for now. "Usually I have to pretend to be asleep for you to let me stay over in your rooms."

"You are terrible at pretending, I can always tell when you do."

"Only because I want you to."

"I know…" He replied in as close to a sigh as his composure allowed. "And I know that I will not be able to close my eyes for even a minute tonight if you are not with me."

"Not without seeing all that could have been if things had ended differently. Without the shadows and ghosts and darkness. I know, all too well." She said, then smiled into the cloud of fabric around her. "And in addition to that, it's been way too long since I stayed over last, even though I always love to. Whenever it's possible. You know that."

"I do indeed."

"And I love you. Beyond what's possible."

"I know." His tone let on a hint of a smile, then he placed a fleeting kiss on the top of her head while his arms around her tightened their hold so much that Robin had to smile. He never said he loved her with words in return. He didn't need to.

"We should get back to work… It's almost time for dinner, and I want to check Morgan's office before then." She said after taking a deep breath to savour the comforting scent of him, of home. "I really have no wish to run into him again today. Especially not after just discovering that we are the underdogs in this entire issue."

"What makes you think that we are?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked as she pulled back at last, and fully snapped back into work mode as they left the room of hidden things behind to walk through the dark corridors of the castle again. "If Morgan had to ask for Dumbledore's permission to take the painting, then the old man must know why Morgan wanted it in the first place. He wouldn't have given him the permission if he hadn't seen through his reasons entirely."

"I agree."

"So Dumbledore knows why this is happening, he knows Morgan's reasons. He knows what Morgan is doing to me. He gave Morgan the permission to keep the painting, and he has let him proceed in what he has been doing to me for years now."

"Indeed. But we have been aware of that problem for a while now."

"Dumbledore never does anything that isn't to his own advantage. And if he lets Morgan do all that to me…" Robin sighed gravely, and looked up at Snape with the most serious expression. "I think Dumbledore wants Morgan to kill me."

"That is-..." Snape cut himself and his automatic response off in an instant, but he returned Robin's dark expression nonetheless for a moment while her words seemed to run circles in his mind. Finally, he seemed to find his own line of thought again. "While I do have to agree with your reasoning, there is still a lot speaking against the conclusion you came to. I am not saying you aren't right, but I believe there is more to it than that. You are leaving certain matters out of the equation."

"And what would that be?"

"Me, for example."

"You?" Robin frowned at him in confusion. "You'll have to elaborate on that."

"If Dumbledore wanted you dead, why would he have been in favour of the connection between you and me right from the start, and at every point since?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at Robin in return. "He is a brilliant man, I have no doubt he knew that we would end up where we are now long before we did. Thus he must have known that we would always stand two against one in the end. My involvement makes it infinitely more difficult to have you killed, which in return would make it unreasonable for him to encourage our relations. "

"You're right… That doesn't add up." Robin mused with a lingering frown. "Neither does the book he gave me, now that I think about it. Ensuring that I know more about the unforgivables than the person he wants to see killing me would be an odd way to prepare me for slaughter."

"Correct."

"What a fucking mess…" Robin groaned under her breath, then rolled her eyes to herself and at the ceiling before taking a deep breath to regain some composure. "So if Dumbledore doesn't want me dead, then why would he let Morgan proceed in trying to kill me? It's not like he couldn't put an immediate end to those efforts if he actually wanted to…"

"That we will find out. Morgan's reasons as well as Dumbledore's."

"With my luck, I probably have to die to prevent the world's impending demise or something likely unlikely… The most exaggeratedly dramatic thing we could ever think of, that will probably be my fate. Just for irony's sake."

"I will gladly see the world in ashes before I let you die."

"I know." She had to smile yet again, and couldn't resist to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze even though they were in public. If one wanted to call a secret passageway from the seventh floor down to the fourth 'public', that is. "But whether it's the world we're saving or just me, I refuse to die before I graduate. I've put far too much effort into my essays and homework recently to let that all go to waste!"

Snape let out something that sounded like a snort and a scoff at once, and quietly shook his head to himself as they finally reached the fourth floor and crossed over into another corridor to continue their path towards Morgan's classroom. Robin was content with the reaction, and focused back on the matter at hand.

"How do we go on from here?" She asked in a whisper only, for who knew which prying ears might be nearby in a public hallway like this. "I mean… If we find it here, how do we go on?"

"We could confront the headmaster, for example. With a piece of evidence like that, not even he could deny his involvement in the issue. He might not give us the truth, but perhaps more leads to follow nonetheless."

"That sounds as close to a plan as we will probably get." Robin nodded, more to herself than to him. "In any case, McGonagall seems to know something about this entire thing as well, and I'm not convinced she's too happy about any of this either. She wanted to tell me, but the headmaster obviously asked her not to, and I at least can respect her loyalty. Too bad it is Dumbledore who is at the receiving end of it… She would make a good ally."

"Curious that you have taken a liking to Minerva after all."

"Oh, you know… If McGonagall can work with Jorien, who really isn't the easiest person to deal with from my own experience, she deserves some credit at least, if not my sincere respect."

"Funny." Snape replied with a not-smirk. "A while ago, she said much the same thing about you, for working with me."

Robin had to bite her lip quite hard to keep from snorting. They were in close proximity to the defense classroom, and loud noises like that were a no-go at this point if they wanted to successfully break and enter without drawing attention. So she settled for a soundless laugh, and a small smirk to follow it up.

"I'm glad someone recognizes the troubles of working with you at last." She whispered back softly, glancing up at Snape for but a second, which in return sufficed to take notice of the feigned glare and the not-smirk. Good… humour might do them good at this point.

"If anything, you brought the trouble into my life." He protested with a huff, while checking the corridor for anyone or anything that could observe them. Then he opened the door to the classroom with the same spell that sealed his own down in the dungeons. Robin was surprised, but very much pleased that he seemed to be doing all the breaking for now, and she only had to enter.

"I didn't bring trouble into your life!" She replied nonetheless as they walked into the room, after she'd closed the door behind them and locked it back up. It was no secret that Morgan never came to his classroom nor his office on weekends… Thus the risk of getting caught in here on this late afternoon really was minimal. "As far as I remember, you have far more trouble with people who are not me."

"That, for once, is true." He mused, but kept his eyes on the door to the office they were now approaching. "But you made me realize that I have trouble with everyone who isn't you. Before I met you, I simply thought the world was supposed to be cold and cruel like that, but then you had to saunter into my life and make me question every single thing I believed to know. You just had to show me happiness and thereby make everything that isn't you straight up unbearable, didn't you?" His sigh was dripping with so much feigned annoyance and the utmost irony that Robin couldn't help snorting at last.

"I won't apologise for bringing trouble into your life in that case." She smiled as she watched him working on the sturdy wooden door with spells she doubted were even suitable for the occasion. But she let him proceed anyway. "Seeing as the trouble only extends to people who aren't me."

"I did not say that, nor would I ever dare to." He returned a half-smirk, which made Robin roll her eyes with an even wider smile.

"Why is that?" She finally asked in an attempt not to laugh. They were breaking in somewhere… This wasn't the time for teasing and jokes, and yet they had chosen precisely this time to humour each other indeed. Oh well, why start being ordinary now, after all.

"I might have been surprised for a second, that you didn't consider breaking into my colleague's office as trouble, but then I remembered your liberal approach to breaking into places, which you displayed on multiple occasions last summer. Now, I am led to believe that perhaps you are trouble after all."

"And what if I am?" She raised her eyebrows at him with a small smirk. "Seeing as you've been causing trouble together with me all this time, I could say you're no better."

"You certainly are better at breaking into places than I am." He stated with a scowl at the still closed door, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin. "Would you be so kind to open the door now or is watching me fail too amusing for that?"

"It is quite amusing, but I'll open the door nonetheless." Robin chuckled at his feigned annoyance, then went to make quick work of Morgan's more than poor wards and locks. Thirty seconds later, the door was open, and a smug expression painted on her face as she looked up at Snape at last. "There you go. Anything else I can assist you with?"

"Do shut up, will you?" He grumbled, but Robin only had to snicker as they went to search the office. She knew that he was impressed with her knowledge of legal spells, and even more so by her knowledge of what was (in her opinion unrightfully) considered dark magic. That area didn't only extend to curses after all, and more often than not some of those unseemly spells served them better in their work than the school taught ones did. Either way, right now she knew that his entire dismissive demeanour was merely meant to humour her, and it really did serve that purpose wonderfully well.

After a good ten minutes of searching with as well as without magic, they had to realize though that the portrait wasn't here, nor was anything else that could've given them a clue about the current mysteries. Disappointed but not yet defeated, they locked the office door back up the way they had found it and made their way back out into the hallway. Unseen as ever. By now, it was about dinnertime, and thus they redirected their destination to the great hall instead of the dungeons.

"His private rooms will be a lot more difficult to search." Robin sighed as they reached the staircase that luckily was yet -or already- void of students. "He spends most of his time working from there, especially in the evenings. Or at least that's what I've heard. My information about him doesn't stretch beyond the gossip that makes rounds these days."

"We have to be certain he won't interrupt our search, or it would pose an ideal opportunity for him to justify another attempt on your life. Removing him from the castle shouldn't be a problem though, I believe I can arrange that without drawing too much attention to our goals."

"Wait, what? You can?"

"Years of knowing each other, and you still doubt me. Unbelievable."

"I wouldn't dare to."

He returned a small glare upon her sarcastic tone, but beneath the public facade of stony indifference, there was a layer of humour as almost always these days. Robin doubted that anyone but her had ever seen it though.

"In all seriousness, how soon can you get him away from the castle?" She asked after a moment, as they came to a stop in the hallway that led to the main entrance of the great hall on one end, and to the backdoor on the other. They usually went separate ways from here on, always careful not to arrive together at the wrong times and make the wrong impressions on the wrong people.

"An hour after dinner, perhaps a bit later. But in return he will be gone for a few hours at the least." He replied in certainty, and Robin wondered just how he was going to do that. Especially so quickly, after a day like this that hadn't been easy on Morgan either. She'd have to pay attention during the meal or simply ask about it later. After a few seconds, Snape added, "That should suffice to search his quarters, I believe."

Robin let out a breath in relief upon the prospect of a timely solution, then offered him a smile. "Great. I'll set up the dunderhead gang in the entrance hall to check when he leaves. That way we can be absolutely certain he's gone and not coming back. They can hold watch at least until curfew."

"I could always write them a note to have them stay out later than that, you know… At least I can for the girls. The Ravenclaws are out of my influence."

"I'm aware." She smiled at the memory of her own permission note to break curfew. Gods, that was long ago. "Perhaps we can send them up to the astronomy tower, from up there one can see the very foot of the hill. That would allow for a warning in time to make an escape. I'll ask Cas and Melissa; Jorien's got work with McGonagall, if I'm not mistaken."

Snape scoffed, then rolled his eyes in that lovely exaggerated manner. "Does Minerva ever give the girl a break?"

"Says the man who used to make me work every single night until four o'clock in the morning!" Robin laughed, then shook her head both at him and to herself. "Even on bloody school days!"

"You never seemed to mind." Snape protested with an almost sullen look, and if that was even in the realm of possibility, Robin believed he would start pouting if they'd been alone. Gods, that man was a mystery above all others.

"I didn't just not mind; I absolutely loved it even." Robin replied almost reassuringly, but with more humour than she could tone down. "But so does Jorien. She enjoys working with McGonagall, even if by far more normal hours than we do. No longer than midnight on Fridays and Saturdays and no longer than ten on school nights."

Now, Snape actually did snort for once, even out here in public. "We weren't even done with coffee at that time of night for the majority of the last years."

"We really are a terrible example though!"

"Are we, now? We usually are done working by midnight these days, aren't we?" He raised an eyebrow at her again, more teasing than serious, and Robin was sure they would miss dinner if they kept going like this. It had happened on more than one occasion.

"Well yes, we are, but for entirely different reasons!" She gave him a look, then a smile, then shook her head to herself as her cheeks tinted pink no matter how much she tried to prevent it. They really were done with work earlier than ever these days, as that left them with way more time for private matters afterwards. Not that those private matters didn't occasionally sneak into the lab or the office as well… they did get distracted quite regularly, even. But still, they tried to somehow keep school business and private matters separate now more than ever. That however did not apply for private studies, experiments or research, which they were more than happy to do in their very own kind of way, as they always had. Anyhow, Robin took a deep breath, then tried focusing on the matter at hand. "So, you get Morgan out of the castle as soon as possible, I bargain with Cas and Melissa, and you write them a note later for whoever has patrol duties tonight. Right?"

"Indeed. What reason for your request will you be telling the girls? And what are you willing to offer them in return?"

Robin scoffed, then smirked up at him in both humour and a certain smugness she didn't bother to hide. "What makes you think that they are going to do me the favour? The better question would be what they are willing to do for me if I set up a past curfew visit to the astronomy tower for them. Because they have always wanted to sit there and freeze their little butts off all night. They just don't know it yet."

"Clever." The not-smirk was back in an instant, as was the subtlest expression of pride. "As always."

"I'm trying my best." She replied with a softer smile. "As always."

"I know. I wouldn't be so confident in our plan under any different circumstances. Neither would I break into places for that matter, if it wasn't for you."

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow at him in utmost doubt of what he was saying, and the smirk on her lips made him roll his eyes with a hidden one of his own.

"Dinner. Now. You can harass me later."

"Is that an invitation or are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Get out of my sight already."

With quiet laughter that resonated off the stones around them as a feather light echo, Robin gave him another look that said more than a million words could, then finally made her way down the remainder of the hallway and towards the main entrance with quick steps and a smile on her face. It felt good to laugh and joke again… but she had also learned her lesson today, knew perfectly well what was at stake, and that's precisely why she kept an ever careful eye on her surroundings now more than ever. They still were on a mission after all. A mission they were going to set into action now.

______________________________

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jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 22 - The Echo

You stare at Elidibus, confused, yet intrigued as his query strikes a chord within you. “The Echo?” you parrot back at him, your rush to eat breakfast before your usual spar with Zenos forgotten. “I’m afraid I haven’t. What is it?”

Elidibus maintains his easy smile, ruby eyes twinkling with the unknown. “You’ve been thinking about what I had said last time, have you not? About your paranormal abilities?”

Furrowing your brow, you stare at him, concerned. “How do you know--”

“In Gyr Abania, you had given thought to what I had said, and actively tried to use your powers.” He cuts you off, gaze boring into you as your distress grows. “Until that point you had unknowingly triggered it, reaching deep within to call forth a power you didn’t even know lay inside you.” Releasing your arm, his hand falls limply at his side. “It is amazing you have remained out of his sight this long...though I suppose for how your abilities have manifested, it would be easy to keep a low profile…”

Your face breaks up, not understanding what he’s saying. You feel as if you should cry, but you do not know if it is from sadness or fear or anger. He keeps speaking in riddles as if he knows who you are, but won’t say a word about it. “What do you know about me?” You ask, practically begging with the desperation in your tone, reaching to clasp his hand between yours. “Do you know something about me? What is the Echo?”

Elidibus glances down at his hand clutched between your own, flexing his fingers slightly. A look of pity pulls at his features as his free hand comes up and rubs against the back of your own, his skin soft to the touch and smooth like porcelain. “I suppose there is no harm…” he trails off, eyes looking off to the side for a moment before they glide back to you. “Very well. You are free to do as you wish in the evenings, correct?” He asks, to which you nod in affirmation. “Excellent. Meet me out in the gardens this evening, after you’ve eaten your supper. Then, I will explain what I can.”

Giving you a final, reassuring pat on your hand, he pries his from your hold, crossing his arms behind his back. “If you worry about either Lord Varis or young Zenos, do not worry, I have way ways.” He finishes with a small smile. Nodding, he makes a little shooing motion. “Go on, I’m sure I’ve delayed you enough. Surely your breakfast is getting colder by the second and I know Lyngsath detests microwaves.”

Nodding, you purse your lips together turning around, heading straight for the kitchens. When you take a quick glance behind you, Elidibus is still there, eyebrow raised as you shake your mind free of thoughts and head straight for your destination.

When you greet Lyngsath it is absentmindedly, giving him a silent wave as he deposits your still warm breakfast on a plate before you. Thankfully Lyngsath is understanding and doesn’t take your sudden silence personally, merely setting a warming cup of tea with two cubes of sugar next to your breakfast and going on his way, leaving you to your thoughts.

Your mind was going malms a minute trying to think of what The Echo could possibly mean; and what it meant for you. Elidibus had always seemed strangely cryptic, but now more so with his recent actions as if he was using you to prove a theory of his. Would he shine light on why you felt a strange sense of ease, a weird sense of familiarity around him? Did he know you as a child?

Did he know what happened to Minfilia?

Your silence as you stewed in your thoughts of course did not go unnoticed by Zenos, though he refrained from commenting on the matter. You could tell he desperately wanted to ask, but for reasons unknown he kept to himself. You wonder what he must think of you, his bodyguard, once so confident and sure, now looking as if they might break from the strain of their job.

If only he had known you had never signed up for any of this.

Somedays you wanted to bawl and tell him everything, especially that night he had held you as you cried. You wanted to tell him how you were just a girl looking for answers on her missing friend, joining the police in hopes of climbing the ranks to find clues. And instead, you had gotten yourself involved with possibly one of the largest crime lords in history, with no way out to tell any kind of news station or authorities without putting everyone at risk.

To top it off, your only comfort was in the arms of the son of said crime lord, who you may or may not like more than you had originally planned.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” Zenos begins, drawing your attention from the reflective ceiling above. He had been scribbling away at some documents or whatever for a while, and it looked like he had finally had enough of the quiet. However, his phrasing put the ball in your court, said as an observation and not an outright question.

“Yeah.” You respond, sparing him a glance. He hasn’t looked away from his desk yet, and you sigh, wondering what you should say. “Just...a lot on my mind.”

“It’s unlike you to not speak it.” He responds swiftly, his pen moving with ease across the paper. “I will not pester you, but I will also not allow you to drown in your grief.” He flips the paper over into his pile of finished documents, beginning to work on the next. “You always become this way around death. You have been blessed with an innate talent for combat, but lack the heart to truly revel in battle.”

Frowning, you glare at him from your space on the couch. “I enjoy fighting.”

“Enjoying the battle is the same as truly reveling in it.” Zenos responds, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. To him, perhaps it is, for you’ve already gathered that he experiences things so much differently than you. Tempering your anger, you take a calming breath and keep a cool head.

“What do you mean by reveling in the battle? Do I seem upset when we fight?” You ask, genuinely trying to figure out what on earth he could mean.

Zenos pauses his writing to gaze at you from beneath his lashes, almost stealing your breath away. “I must answer your question with another: What do you feel when we fight?”

He gives you a moment to think on it, to analyze your feelings about your previous duels. Most mornings you’re just focused on the warm up and the comfort of routine, even back when you hated him with every fiber of your being. Deep down you couldn’t deny you looked forward to your sparring each morning, having never found anyone near your level of skill. Whether it be grappling each other until someone was flat on their back or Zenos’ practice blade at your throat, you always found yourself having fun and enjoying the match.

“I feel...happy.” You admit, the words sounding strange but no less truthful. Really, there was no other word better to describe it. Looking at him he seems almost surprised by your response, but he quickly schools his face back to one of indifference.

“But you do not feel the rush of blood? The time between the seconds?” He questions, staring at you fiercely now. There is a passion in his eyes you have only seen a few times, capturing your attention entirely. “To revel in battle, Honey, is to give yourself over completely to your desire to fight. Even in our tamest of duels, I experience a bliss that I cannot attain anywhere else. Whether it is the feel of your fist connecting with my face, the sound of my own breath as I push my body to keep up with your own, there is no greater joy than giving myself to battle.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad--”

“I wasn’t done.” He cuts off, eyes pinning you in place. He gains a far away look, as if lost in a fantasy. “I confess, I often think about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of your rage; to experience firsthand the flame of your fury as your hands wrap themselves around my throat and snap my neck. To feel my blade slice through your flesh and bone, to know the grueling pain of your hand breaking my arm--”

He releases a shuddering sigh, one that almost bordered on lewd. “Oftentimes in the early days of when I had started as my father’s hitman, I would give myself impossible odds. I had entire swathes of gang members at my disposal, but nothing could stop me from entering hideouts with nothing but myself, and my sword.” He smiles as he loses himself in his memories, eyes twinkling. “I would return home covered in blood, always scaring the house staff, but happy. Each brush with death, each time I barely escaped with my life, I felt such bliss.” His smile falls. “And then one day, nothing. I felt nothing.”

While listening intently, your concern mounted with each word, but especially at how defeated he had sounded at the end.

“Perhaps I had desensitized myself to the thrill. It was not until I had met you that I had met that same feeling once more.” He gives you a surprisingly warm smile, a feeling of affection so strong that you could not mistake it for anything else.

"It is a wonder you're still alive given how you placed yourself in danger." you comment, unsure how to really respond. What did it say about him mentally that the only way he could feel was when his life was in jeopardy? That his father cared so little for him that it didn’t matter to him that his son returned home drenched in the blood of his kills?

"I am a warrior without equal," he responds, as if it was a force of habit. However, his eyes turn ravenous upon you, the flame of desire burning within them. "Or, so I had thought."

Feeling warm beneath his gaze, you decide the ceiling is suddenly interesting again. "Well, I'm glad that at least I can calm you down from doing anything stupid." You tease, trying to turn the conversation back toward lighter spirits.

"Would that I could say the same for you, my beast."

The severity of his tone is enough to catch your attention immediately, watching as he slowly stands from his desk. He slowly strolls around it, prowling toward you with measured steps as he doesn’t let you break eye contact for even a second.

As he nears your place on the couch, you move to sit up but he’s already keeping you in place with one hand as he braces himself to hover just above your prone form on the couch. One hand rests upon the back of it, while the other rests upon the arm where your head is. Like this, his hair slips from its resting place upon his shoulders, wisps of the golden strands tickling you even through your clothes. You're painfully aware of just how large he is, his broad shoulders leading toned biceps. A muscled back leading the way to shapely glutes.

Your legs part without you realizing it but there is no hint of smugness in his gaze, only a need to possess, to claim. "Zenos?" you murmur, tongue swiping across your lips in an unconscious show of nerves, eyes gazing up at the Garlean as he crowds even closer.

"Do not go and do something stupid." He hums, eyes searching yours as if daring you to speak against him. "Your behavior as of late has been concerning. You have become driven, but dangerously so." His beautiful eyes narrow on you scrutinously. "Are you planning something?"

Swallowing thickly, you once again find it hard to lie to him. You weren't a huge liar in the first place, but his constant honesty made you feel nothing but guilty for even the whitest of lies. "What would I even have to plan?" you whisper, taking your hands to reach for his wrists, gently rubbing along them.

"Ever since I had told you my father could be responsible, you have acted strangely." He comments, shifting his hands to where they now rest on either side of your head and his legs trap your own between his. "You cannot afford to do anything to him. Not from your position."

Something in the way he emphasizes you specifically hints that he knows something you do not, a feeling you're getting quite tired of. However, he's right; there's no way you can take down Varis solely from Zenos' side. His own father has seen fit to not keep him apprised of his own machinations as of late, leaving both of you in the dark. His campaign trail would be starting soon, and you couldn't afford to waste any time looking for scraps of info while he prepared to get into a position of power.

"Even now I can see the gears in your head turning." Zenos huffs, grabbing you by the chin and fixing your focus to him. "You are planning something. Something stupid."

Face crumpling with indignation, you huff back at him. "Planning is a bit too advanced for a savage isn't it?" you sneer, knowing he can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingers.

"Your savagery doesnt make you stupid," he chuckles, rubbing his thumb along your chin. "But your inability to quash your feelings and think rationally does."

Offended, you shove his hand from your face. "Have you ever thought your inability to feel has alienated you?"

"It's cute, the way you try and strike back at me, my beast." He laughs, the hand you swatted away reaching down for your left thigh and hitching it on his hip. "I believe I've shown myself quite capable of having feelings. The only difference between us is I am in control of mine." He shifts his right arm to brace his weight upon his forearm instead of his hand, bringing him steadily closer. "I have no need of shame, or fear." The more he speaks the more you are enraptured by him, mesmerized by his voice even as he lays your heart bare before you.

"How do you see right through me?" you ask, breath ghosting across his lips as you hitch your other leg around his hip, pulling him to you.

Unable to resist temptation, he kisses you, lips hungry yet moving slowly across your own. Your legs tighten around his hips even as he pulls away."I see only what you allow me to." He grins, flipping his hair from his face. "You've convinced yourself for so long I am some unfeeling monster," he growls as his left hand begins to untuck your blouse from your pants, "buy I have always made my feelings clear. You have been ignorant to them."

"That's not true," you insist, despite arching your back to allow him to free the fabric from your backside as well.

"Oh? Then what would you call me saving your life in that dump the night we met? Did I not feel interested?" He questions, voice like a balm over your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into his spell. "When I had learned of your first kill, did I not feel pride?" Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he leans closer, burrowing his nose against your neck and breathing you in. "Do I not feel something too strong for words when you are in my arms?"

His tongue licks a sensual stripe on your skin and you moan despite him barely touching you. "You...I want to hate you. So badly." You whimper as he roughly shoves your pants down a sudden burst of impatience.

"Don't." He responds, as if it is that simple. "Merely stay by my side, and belong to me." He demands, but it comes out as a whisper, a secret that only the two of you share. Trapped beneath him you are arrested by the earnest look in his eyes, a determination that mixes with traces of desperation as if he is convinced you will abandon him. "Promise me."

Reaching up to caress his face, your heart twinges in pain, finding it hard to deny him. “I promise.” You breathe, trapped in his eyes as he once again presses his lips to your own, the kiss passionate, but charged with so much feeling it is overwhelming in its intensity. It should frighten you how far you have fallen for this man, your heart already knowing the words your lips will not speak.

So you touch him instead, letting your hands rove across his body as clothes are shed and you’re pressed face first into the leather of the couch, your skin sticking to it uncomfortably, but not so much so that you would even think about pushing him off you as he fucks you into it. The door is locked but employees are still in the building, and even the possibility of someone getting close enough to the door to hear how you wail for your boss to fuck you harder does nothing to deter this need to show him you won’t be going anywhere.

At least, not while he’s watching.

The hour is late; all of the housekeepers and maids have gone home, tending to their own families while you creep out your room and try to sneak to the backdoor. Moonlight pours in from the windows by the grand staircase, the halls eerily quiet to the point it is slightly unnerving. Hazarding a cautious glance at the winding stairwell, all seems well, praying to whatever gods will listen that both Varis and his son are asleep.

Creeping through one last hallway, you flash your badge at the backdoor, allowing you to slip out into the backyard without the security alarm giving you away. The grass is lush even beneath your slippered feet, the winter chill biting into your skin, making you huddle further into your puffy coat. Glancing over the garden, all that remains are a few choice evergreens, but the majority of plants lie dormant, waiting to bloom in the Spring. Given that the majority of plants are currently without leaves, you find that you cannot spot Elidibus immediately.

The garden is still well lit, but you find you cannot find the Emissary anywhere. Biting down on your lip, you trudge further into the garden, the sprawling grounds somehow seeming larger in the cover of night. You are drawn to the fountain in the middle, eyes gazing at the turbulent waters, losing yourself in the memory of Zenos’ arms bringing you close and pulling you from its murky waters.

“Deep in thought?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Elidibus’ voice, losing your footing as you slip on the smooth stone that makes up the fountain, bracing yourself for a chilly bath that does not come. Unclenching your eyes, you find ruby ones staring back, realizing Elidbus’ arm is looped behind your back as he saved you the trouble of having to explain why you had hypothermia in the morning.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question. I thought you would have sensed my presence.” He hums, setting you to stand up straight, his touch gentle and sure. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with him, at least physically, and the fact that it feels familiar somehow unsettles you. Visibly so.

“Careful, Honey. Eorzeans have a saying that if you make a face, it’ll get stuck that way.” He laughs to himself, ruby eyes twinkling with mirth. Staring at him, he is still dressed in one of his trademark, white suits, as if it is not nearly midnight. He looks as clean and coiffed as he does any other time, making you feel a little ridiculous for being out in the cold in your puff coat and pajamas.

“What do you mean...sense your presence? Don’t you mean ‘heard you coming?’” You frown, brushing yourself off, trying to fix your hair so you don’t feel nearly as crazy in comparison.

His eyebrows raise up into his hairline, before his lips twitch as if to grin. “Perceptive.” He finally does smile, except it feels so familiar and warm and...as if he admires you. “I’m glad to see that has not changed about you.”

Frustrated, you shove past him and march toward a nearby bench, deciding to sit down. “You keep saying that-- that you know me or something. But I’ve never met you until you came here.” Staring him down, you put on your bravest face, trying your best to be mad at him. “I want answers. Why did you call me here?”

Shrugging, Elidibus turns to face you, grin leaving his face. “Very well. I will answer you to the best of my abilities.” He begins, sliding his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and at ease. “The Echo. I asked what you knew of it, correct?”

You nod, and he continues. “Judging by your silence, you were unable to find anything out about it, which is good. In truth, it is a wonder you have lived this long without finding trouble…” he murmurs, seeming to think on something for a moment before returning his focus to you. “But I digress. Let me present you with another question then; do you believe in magic?”

Pursing your lips, you think about your experiences as a child. Like any country, Hingashi had its share of magicians, from cheap parlor tricks to professionals who had their own shows. You knew it wasn’t really magic, that something within you said you would know magic if you really saw it.

Having your answer, you shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt ‘magic’ isn’t real magic.”

Chuckling, Elidibus nears you, pulling his hands from his pockets. “An interesting answer...which will make explaining this tale, much easier.”

Waving his fingers, you watch as motes of light shine from his very hands, small and glowing like fireflies in the dark. They swirl into a galaxy, a beautiful, blue-green star appearing at the center of it all. “In a time before time, did mortals live for an age. Society was nothing the way it was now. Technology had reached a point of advancement unheard of on this star. The very sky was littered with creatures of all shapes and sizes. But most importantly...the people had the power to create.”

The lights change into spiring towers, much like the skyscrapers of Kugane, but the architecture was unlike anything you had ever seen. Robed figures walked their streets, clutching crystal-like shards to their chests, conversing, living.

“The Ancients, they were called, such terribly magnificent beings they would seem to the mortals of this age. Able to create concepts on a whim, breathe life into creatures and inventions unheard of. This was not an ability given to a select few you see, but a gift bestowed upon all in that world. Surely such power would cause strife would it not?” He pauses for a moment, his voice sounding strangely fond. “No, it was not so. The Ancients took their power to create and used it to further their society. All were equal in this world, even those on the Convocation.”

“The Convocation?” You ask, watching the lights change to match his story.

“The Convocation was a group of fourteen people, chosen to head academia for the entire star.” Elidibus explains, his voice taking on a note of sadness. A group of fourteen figures in robes stand in a circle, all of their robes black save for one in the purest white. The city shimmers brightly behind them, creating a dazzling image. “The best and brightest minds the star had to offer, gathered together to push the star into a new age.” The lights change, the hues of blues and greens changing to oranges and reds. “The best and brightest, gathered together to save the star from certain doom.”

You watch mystified at the panic; the ash and fire as the Convocation scrambles about, their faces looking lost and full of despair. “The laws of life itself were being unwritten, the Convocation at a loss of what to do. It was then that the idea of summoning a god to save them from their peril had been given, but only at the cost of civilian lives.” Elidibus’ voice is hardly above a whisper, his eyes seeming almost as transfixed on his story as you are.

“Yet there were those who stood against such an idea, calling the others cowards for placing themselves above their friends, their colleagues. Were they not all created equal? For what reason were those on the Convocation exempt from sacrifice? Could no one else ascend to their seat?” The robed figures visibly split apart, the divide in how to proceed clear. “It was with this contention that the Convocation had split in two, each summoning their own god. One, from the lifeforce of civilians, the other, with the lives of those who abhorred the very idea.”

Figures of light twinkle into existence, one tinged with a deep, dark purple, the other shining a striking white light. “The gods had warred and fought, both doing their best to fulfill the outcry of their people. But it would be the ones who sacrificed themselves who would win in the end. To save the star, the god had severed the star into bits, saving it the only way they knew how.” The blue-green planet returns, visibly fracturing, breaking to glistening shards of dust adrift in a sea of stars. “It is for this reason that most mortals do not live for more than a century, that the art of magic is lost to time…” The image vanishes, your eyes snapping up to Elidibus’. “Or so, the legends say.”

Confused, but intrigued, you hang on his every word. “What does that story have to do with the Echo?”

“The Echo is what remains of the Convocation.” He answers, coming to take a seat next to you. “Legend says that over history, that across the many shards, the spirits of the Convocation persist. They manifest in different ways...Othardian legends such as Azim and Nhaama were rumored to have the Echo, for they were of the sun and moon, gaining spectacular powers based on the respective time of day.” Shrugging, he brushes a stray hair from his face. “Or perhaps you have heard of Krile Baldesion, a scholar a few centuries ago said to have the power of clairvoyance.”

Giving you a small smile, one you could almost call boyish, he gives you with a knowing look. “Or even someone named Honey, gifted with supernatural combat skills and strength.”

Standing to your feet, you stare down at him wide eyed, shock dancing through your veins. “A-Are you saying,”

“I’m not saying anything, Honey.” He murmurs, voice carrying to you on the night wind. He stands with you, taking a solitary step toward you that has you taking one back. “It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

The wind blows but you do not feel its icy sting, too focused on trying to make sense of what the Emissary has told you. He wouldn’t make you come out here just to mess with you, he doesn’t seem the type, but it makes no sense. Those images; he had created those, he had used magic. The Echo, did he really think you had it? What did it mean for you?

Wanting to scream, you opt instead to let tears silently roll down your cheeks, as you feel that once again, you are way in over your head. Something bad is going on, something bad, and you landed yourself right in the middle of it. “Why did you tell me all this?”

Elidibus stands there in silence, his eyes giving off that strange glow that you know isn’t a result from the lamps that keep the grounds lit even at night. He regards you with a sudden seriousness you had never felt from him before, gaze unflinching as his lips part for his next words: “I believe even you can feel a certain...attraction between the two of us Honey.” He crosses his hands behind his back, eyes taking on a darker note. “Not in the way you feel for Zenos, oh no, but a magnetism that despite us never having met each other, it is as if we have known each other our whole lives.” Tilting his head back, his gaze could only be described as intrigued. “Perhaps, we knew each other in a past life.”

The lights on the grounds flicker, wind howling loud in your ear, the breeze numbing your legs and killing any feeling in your face. As the lights get darker, the wind louder, you finally bring your arms up to block the abrupt gales, the last thing you see being ruby eyes in the dark before the lights go out entirely. The wind stops as fast as it came, rays of light shining through your arms as you finally lower them to find yourself alone.

Looking around, Elidibus really is gone, leaving you with more questions than answers. Frustrated and sleepy, you stumble your way back into the estate, unaware of ice blue eyes watching you from on high.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

Looking up from your phone, you lock the screen as Yuyusho pulls into the driveway of the Garlond estate. Much like home, the flowers and shrubs all lie dormant, biding their time until Spring. You’re not surprised to find that Cid is not outside waiting for you, dressed in some khaki shorts and a tacky, tropical shirt. Stepping from the car, you bid Yuyusho your goodbyes and a promise to be ready for him to pick you up in no more than two bells.

The door opens as soon as you press down upon the lever, making you silently pray that Cid doesn’t carelessly leave his doors unlocked as you step inside. Toeing your shoes off, you switch to your designated slippers, trying to not let your eyes dwell too long on a familiar large pair that sits in the cubby that has begun to collect dust. Taking a deep breath, you place your shoes in the cubby alongside them, making sure the door locks behind you and heading deeper into the house.

With as big as his house is, there’s no telling where Cid could be within it. As many times as you had been over here, you actually hadn’t had the chance to explore the sprawling grounds, usually chatting with Cid for a while in the kitchen before Estinien would surface from his hermit cave and fetch you to go train. “Cid?” you call, knowing that if he was on the other side of the estate there was no way he was hearing you. “Cid?” you call again, ambling down a random hall, hoping that you might just happen across him.

The house is quiet much like Varis’, except it doesn’t have the white noise of maids and such shuffling about, ensuring not a speck of dust lands upon his prized possessions. As you make your way deeper into the house, the rooms become less for leisure and more for business, beginning to house robots and magitek instead of plush lounge chairs and expensive cigars. One door catches your attention, clearly shut, but it doesn’t stop you from seeing if it will open.

With a simple touch of the button on the wall, the door slides open, cool air brushing over your face as the sounds of beeps and whirrs assault your ears. Before you stands a large piece of magitek of some sort, covered in a glossy, black paint, standing taller than it is wide. It looks as if it made more for battle than for peace, seeming out of place amongst the other things you’ve seen Cid create. Surely enough, it does belong to him, for the Ironworks logo is emblazoned on the side, though instead of neatly printed, it looks as if it was messily spray painted on.

“I see you’ve found Maggie.”

Spinning around, Cid stands behind you, leaning one broad shoulder on the doorframe as he gazes at the tall robot before you. “A real joy that one. Bet you wonder what I’m doing with an old war machine, huh?” He asks, pushing himself off the frame and stepping into the room, allowing the door to shut behind him. Dressed in some comfortable cotton pants and a matching t-shirt, you realize that this is the most casually dressed you have seen him. His usually brushed hair is now unkempt, his keen eyes watered down by obvious fatigue.

“She was my first piece of rebellion, that one. Wanted to prove to my father that there was more than just conquering and war and the glory of Garlemald.” He sighs, stepping past you, his eyes having never left the polished metal. “She’s made for battle. Made to withstand firing enough ammunition to bring multiple platoons to their knees.” He gently runs a hand along its leg, staring intently at the logo embellished on the side. “I had made her better, instead turning her from a war machine, into one capable of rescue.”

Pointing toward its center, you follow his line of sight to where a metal claw protrudes from the front. “With the amount of power she had, it was easy work to make her capable of moving entire tonnes of rubble to free trapped civilians. I was only twelve at the time.” Arm falling to hang limply at his side, he stares up at his trophy, a mix of bitterness and grief in his eyes. “My father hated it. Told me it would never find favor with the emperor.”

Frowning, you stand there unsure what to say, or how to comfort him. “I’m sorry.” An apology is all you can offer, wringing your hands together as he finally turns to face you.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. “Come. Let’s go get us some wine to drink, hm?”

Deciding it best not to argue, you follow him out the room, silent the entire way as he makes his way to a sitting room furnished with two chairs and a fireplace he lights with nothing but a spoken command. Immediately, the room is further warmed by its crackling fire, but Cid goes the extra mile to offer you a downy blanket to help fight off the chill as the entire back wall is made of glass allowing you to see the rest of the grounds.

“I was surprised to hear you had wanted to visit.” Cid begins, grabbing two glasses from the counter and reaching for a bottle of wine. “Or rather, that you specifically had requested to visit. I had expected Varis to do something as underhanded to send you over to try and squeeze some info out of me when I am at my lowest.”

Heaving out a dry laugh, you graciously accept the glass of wine offered to you, burrowing further into cushy chair as you stare blankly into the fire. “I wouldn’t put it past him either, if it’s any consolation.” You joke, watching as he comes to take a seat in his own seat. Taking a sip of the wine, you let the flavors wash over your tongue, doing your best to seem sophisticated, but sure enough it tastes like...wine.

“In that case, I must ask, what is the reason for your visit, Honey?” He asks, taking a quick glance at your neck. “I see you are missing a certain piece of jewelry. Wearing something a bit less...conspicuous, perhaps?”

Shaking your head, you giggle, unable to mope for too long around him. “No, and if anything that really lets you know I came for myself and no one but myself. He is too busy on his campaign trail to pay me any mind.” You take a long sip, hoping it makes what you’re about to say a little bit easier. “I can’t lie that I did come over with ulterior motives but...really I also just wanted to ask how you were holding up.”

You don’t break eye contact with him, knowing the pain of loss in his eyes is reflected just as strongly in your own. Cid is the first to cave, a hand roughly dabbing away a tear that had managed to escape as he takes a long chug of his wine. “I would’ve gotten something stronger if I had known you were going to ask that.”

Genuinely worried, you watch as he finishes the rest of his glass in one go. “Cid? Are you...have you been drinking?”

Giving you a haggard glance, he has the sense to at least look guilty and ashamed before standing to his feet to lumber over to the counter, tilting the bottle lazily to allow more wine to pour forth. He nearly drains the bottle to where his glass is completely full, taking a sip to ensure none will spill over the edge as he makes his way back to his seat. Gingerly sitting, he keeps his glass upraised as he allows the chair to catch his weight, sighing deeply as he does so.

He takes another long swig, nearly draining a third of the glass before finally setting the glass on the small coffee table between you. “Maybe I should have grabbed a cigar…”

“Cid.”

He still looks ashamed, but you only display your concern, unable to judge him given how poorly you’ve been coping. “I’m...I’m hurting too.” Your voice cracks as you say it, vision warbling as tears catch on your eyelashes. Your face scrunches tight as you sniffle, a sob breaking free from your chest. “I miss him too.”

It hasn’t been long, barely even a month, and yet the pain has shown no signs of ebbing. The loss of Estinien still feels as fresh as it had when you both saw him be killed before your very eyes, your hearts struggling to accept that he really is gone.

Cid begins to tear up as well, spiraling into a sob much faster than you, hand coming up to cover his eyes as he sinks into the chair and lets it all go. The two of you cry and cry, able to share your pain with the only other person who could. With no next of kin, no friends, no coworkers, the only ones who would remember him were the two who at least ensured he didn’t die alone.

Quiet sweeps over the house as you dry your eyes, dabbing at them with your sleeve. You feel better, if only a little bit, unable to sob so openly at home without feeling like Zenos would break down your door and demand to know what's wrong. Cid dries his own eyes with a handkerchief, his breaths shaky and rough. “Gods...I think you needed that as badly as I did, huh?”

Nodding, you find while you can’t give voice to your feelings, you agree all the same.

“Thank you for that, Honey.” Cid reaches for his glass again, but decides against it, settling to thread his fingers together and get comfortable. “I loved him, you know. Like a little brother.” He mumbles, losing himself in the dancing flames. “I knew he could be more than just a thug. He had the skills to be more. And he was.” Shaking his head, he finally drags his gaze to you. “He loved you too.”

It stings just as much to hear it from Cid as it did from Estinien’s lips. “I know.” You whisper under your breath, unable to look at him, the two of you knowing just who you had chosen instead. “It’s why I want to avenge him. I...he didn’t deserve to die.”

Cid shrugs defeatedly, reaching for his glass absentmindedly and taking a small sip. “He was my bodyguard. I willingly put him in the position to put my life above his own. Was part of the job description.” He huffs out a weary laugh. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

Shaking your head, you nearly crush your glass in your hand. “No. It wasn’t you.” Lips pursed together, you debate on whether or not you should say anything. You weren’t going to get anywhere by hesitating, and hesitating is exactly what got Estinien killed in the first place. “It was...it was Varis.”

Cid’s expression turns to be deathly serious. “Honey. That’s a severe accusation.”

“Do I sound like I’m not being serious?” You snap back, placing your wine glass down. “Varis was responsible, I know he was. Who else could it be? What other enemies do you have that would be so vile as to try and have you killed?”

Cid remains quiet, as if he wants to say something but is holding himself back. “Still,”

“Like that stuff they shot me with. I was still conscious. I could still feel the cold floor, could still hear, could still see. I just couldn’t fucking move--” your mind threatens to take you back into that moment: the regret, the pain, the trauma, but you press it down, “--I couldn’t move. It felt like my very being was being restrained.”

Cid only shakes his head, groaning as he begins to slouch. “I had hoped it would never come to this…” he mumbles, staring into nothing. “That wasn’t a tranquilizer they shot you or Estinien with.” He regards you wearily, blue eyes tired and not just from lack of sleep. “It was a destabilizer.”

“Destabilizer?”

“Does exactly what it says on the tin.” Resting his head on the back of the chair, he stares blankly at the ceiling. “The point of it is to render you helpless by causing your aether, essentially your life force to become unstable; it specifically targets you at level far past molecular. It targets your very existence and Varis is a fool and a coward for using it on you just to ensure his cronies didn’t kill you off before you could kill them.”

“Wait,” you sit up fully, truly grasping what he’s saying. “You knew it was Varis who had done this?”

“Who else could it be?” he slaps his hand over his face, dragging it down roughly over his beard. “And not for the reasons you think mind you. You see Varis and I have a long history, Honey. We are connected through my father.”

If there was ever a time to back out, it would be now.

Cid continues, ignorant to your inner turmoil. “Remember how I told you my father did research for the Empire? Well, it was a half truth.” You watch as he sits up straight again and reaches for his glass, clearly needing more liquor to get through this. “For a time, he did work for the crown directly. Until Garlemald finally threw in the towel that its days of colonizing and glory had long passed, and to take on a more...approachable image. This meant that my father’s more interesting projects could not be allowed to continue.”

“He was formally let go by the Emperor, but still had one of the best gold stars on his resume that you could get as a pureblooded Garlean. He found fault in the then Emissary’s decision, and continued to do his research in private.” It’s a wonder Cid hasn’t started to slow down at all given how much wine he’s downed, already you’re starting to feel the warm buzz of it beneath your skin. “It was when Varis had gotten into his late teens he had heard of my father’s studies, and used the crown’s money to secretly fund my father’s research. As you know I had already rebelled against my father’s ideologies, beginning to forge my own path. Had I taken but a moment to try and talk some sense into my father…”

Standing to your feet, you cross over to Cid, placing a comforting hand on his own. The look he gives you is appreciative, flipping his hand over to clutch yours in his own. “You don’t have to talk about such painful memories.” You tell him, unable to deal with the regret in his voice. He had made it seem like he had made peace with his father’s death, but in truth, it seemed like it tore him apart like nothing else.

“While I appreciate your concern, I don’t mind talking about it.” He urges, giving your hand a firm squeeze. “It’s therapeutic to tell someone else; for so long I had no one else to tell. Save Estinien.” He gives you a reassuring smile, coaxing you to return to your chair. “He’d want me to keep going.”

Nodding, you return to your seat, but not before grabbing the blanket he had offered you earlier, getting snuggled up. Cid takes a deep breath, preparing himself to continue. “Varis and my father had entered a parasitic, yet mutual business relationship. Varis would show up with a check, and my father would show his latest findings.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I must ask…” Taking a deep breath of your own, you let the question fly past your lips. “...how do you know about aether?”

Frowning, Cid looks plagued by too many sins for one to bear. “Aether is what my father researched. It is what he provided to Varis.” Groaning he leans forward, cradling his face in both hands. “My hands are as dirty as Varis’, Honey. Not from supporting the acts themselves, but for my own cowardice.” He sounds on the verge of tears, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold himself back.

“My father...he had found in his research that a certain demographic of people were immune to his studies on aether. The test subjects he had subjected to his experiments, they had all rejected anything involving aether. It would imbalance their very makeup, most times killing them.” Bitterly laughing, he runs a hand through his hair. “They were just a few gang members, right? Misfits and rejects. Unwanted children. Who would miss them?”

“But it was this way he had stumbled across the Echo.”

On the edge of your seat, you hang on his every word. “The Echo?”

“A myth made reality.” Cid explains, as if it’s nothing. “There are strange forces at work in this world, Honey. Forces that give people extraordinary, dare I say, supernatural abilities. I am a man of science, as was my father, but there was no refuting the hard evidence that a select few were birthed with something special about them.”

“It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

“There are people with...the Echo?” You urge Cid, desperate for him to keep going.

“There are. Well. If there are any left.”

That statement alone chills your blood to the bone.

“What...what do you,”

Cid pins you in place with a grave stare. “What I am about to tell you...promise me you will never tell another soul. Promise me, Honey.”

Nodding, you feel the weight of your own promises pile high. “Not a word.”

Satisfied, Cid clasps his hands in front of him, resting his elbows upon his thighs. He hasn’t looked away, hardly even blinked. “I’m not ignorant to Varis’ more underhanded dealings. I am sure of the things he has you do.” He pauses, having to breathe a calming breath before continuing. “Those who have the Echo are said to be descendants of some of the very first beings from a time before time. A world so far away and long ago that is beyond our comprehension. Mere shells of their former selves according to the stories, but no less amazing and awe inspiring to the average man.”

“And it is for this reason Varis had hunted them down and experimented on them.”

Your hands slowly reach up to cover your mouth as it hangs agape, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you realize Cid is completely serious.

“I am not a good...I’m not a good man, Honey. Would that I even had an iota of your courage...the people I could have saved…” Cid does cry then, too overwhelmed by his own shame. “I was still mostly a child when I had left home, crossing over to Kugane when I was only nineteen. I had sworn off all that my father had done, not just because I despised his methods, but because I was afraid.”

Tears stream down his face in a river, catching in his beard. “When I had finally resolved to try and bring to light the atrocities my father had committed, Varis had already risen to great power with his own business...and my father…” He chokes out a sob, “--he had been killed. Murdered in cold blood by one of his own experiments, and when I had returned home to Garlemald to give him a proper burial, I thought to make things right by at least turning Varis in. But I was too late. All of his research, his labs, everything, had been reduced to ash.”

"I had nothing, nothing to prove my father or Varis' crimes. It’s haunted me for years, and will continue to do so to think of all the innocents I let disappear due to my own cowardice…" He buries his head in hands, running his hands through his hair like a madman. "I fear I am beyond saving."

Staring into the fire, the sound of screams fill your ears. "You said...Varis has been abducting people...for years?"

"Yes." Cid’s voice sounds further away. "Anyone suspected of having the Echo, stolen from their beds under the cover of night…"

"You must hide."

Minfilia's panicked voice wakes you from your sleep, her arms wrapping around you urgently as she pulls you from the bed. But a child of eleven years you have grown too big to carry, but she does as best as she is able. "Minfilia?"

Your head is pounding, the memory fading in and out of your mind.

"I can't explain, my dear." Tears stream down her youthful face, Minfilia, who has always looked so mature to your childish view but is still a child herself. "But I need you to hide. Hide and don't make a sound. Not one peep, do you understand?"

"But why, "

"Promise me!" She shrieks before quieting her voice, quickly urging you into the bathroom. Grunting she grabs the small vanity and pulls, revealing a small crawl space within the wall. "Get in."

Darkness seems to close in around you, your breath caught in your throat.

There's a chorus of male laughter, the sound of several feet shuffling into the apartment. "We heard you had a gifted kid here...figured we'd take em off your hands."

"You're looking for me?" Minfilia asks immediately, her own footfalls soft and delicate compared to what must be huge men.

"You're a bit old to be a kid, huh?" The masculine voice asks, seeming to pause. "You ain't hiding anything from us, are you girly?"

"Search the apartment you'll find I'm alone," Minfilia takes a deep breath, "I had no way of knowing you were coming."

Your head won’t stop pounding and your lungs are struggling to breathe.

"Looks like your apartment is clean, but unfortunately for you...I can't go back empty handed."

"W-Wait,"

You hear a struggle, your tears starting anew as you press yourself against the vanity.

"Let go of me!"

"Let’s go boys. Maybe the boss will be happy to have some fresh meat to test on."

With small, grubby hands you do your best to push against the small vanity, weeping silently as you continue to hear Minfilia’s struggle. She’s crying, you can hear her, you have to help--

“Honey!”

Cid has you by the shoulders, grasping you fiercely, looking nearly distraught. As he realizes he’s pulled you back to the world of the living, he hardly even relaxes. “Honey. By the Twelve, are you alright?”

Reaching up, you feel dried tears on your cheeks, the skin sticky and taut. Hands shaking, you try to let the memory continue to play, but it won’t. Trembling, as soon as you try to force it past your hands trying to free yourself from your hiding place, your head throbs, causing you too much pain to continue further. Your lungs seize up, forcing you to stop trying.

“Honey, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Cid begs, shaking you desperately.

Deciding to stop causing yourself pain, wipe away fresh tears, shoving Cid’s arms off you. He looks noticeably hurt by the gesture, clenching his jaw as he stands straight. Your lungs struggle to breathe correctly as you try to calm yourself down, running a hand through your hair as more pieces fall into place.

The Echo was real.

Minfilia..she was protecting you.

The men who had searched your apartment...she had sacrificed herself to keep you safe.

Varis had to have kidnapped her. Which means...which means…

Standing to your feet, you bring Cid into a bone crushing hug, burrowing your face into his shoulder. He stands stock still for a moment, until his arms slowly wrap around your back and he returns your hug in full force.

“Cid...thank you.”

He knows not what you thank him for, but continues to accept the hug, the two of you needing the comfort more than words can explain. You urge him to do what you cannot: to get help. He might be unable to expose Varis’ crimes, but he could at least talk to a professional about working through his grief over Estinien.

Yuyusho awaits you outside, not at all bothered by you staying thirty minutes more than originally planned. Flashing him a thankful smile, you step into the car and allow him to drive you back home.

Home, where you begin to make a plan about how you were going to expose Varis for the horrors he’s committed.

Locking yourself in your room you immediately sit at your desk, yanking open the top drawer. Lifting the false bottom you find a small SD card, the same card Zenos had nearly crushed with his foot after he destroyed your original phone. Twirling it in your hands, you pull out a burner phone you had managed to swipe from an unsuspecting lackey, popping the card inside. The phone chirps as you turn it on, flipping through the apps until you pull up one of the many pictures on the device.

If you had to guess you must be maybe five or six years old in the picture, Minfilia’s petite frame still supporting you easily. Your face is covered in what must’ve been finger paint, the biggest grin on your face as you reach your grimy hands out toward the camera. Minfilia is all smiles as well, eyes crinkled with joy on her youthful face. She looks as if she maybe in her late teens, every bit a child as you were at the time.

A child who was taken away, never to be heard from again.

Looking back on your memories as a child through the eyes of an adult, you had always found it strange that such a teenage girl was tasked with the care of a child. Your memory is too damaged to recall Minfilia mentioning her parents, if she had them at all. Your own heritage was a mystery, Minfilia being the only thing you knew of having any sort of guardian, and even if she was far too young to take care of you herself, she was the closest thing you had to a mother.

Vision blurring as you start to cry, you continue to flip through the pictures, remembering a time that feels so far away. Those tendrils of warmth you had felt as a child being in her care, remembering her kindness and guidance as she raised you to the best of her ability. During your early teens you had resented her for a while, hating her for forcing you into a life of being a foster child, bouncing from home to home just so some couple could collect their check from the government. It wasn’t until you were nearly out of high school did you vow to find the reason for her disappearance, immediately signing up to join the police force.

You sailed through your training at the top of your class, surpassing men and women alike, your combat skills making you a force to be reckoned with. With the knowledge you have now, you realize it is only due to the Echo that you climbed as quickly as you did. With supernatural reflexes, no one stood a chance.

Resentment tried once more to find its way into your heart, thinking back on Elidibus’ words that in the past those blessed with the Echo had far more extraordinary powers, making you wonder why you were saddled with something so lame in comparison. It was only thanks to the more covert nature of your talents that you had been able to fly under the radar for as long as you had, at the cost of Minfilia’s life.

The next few days are spent pouring over every database you know you can find, unable to ask Zenos for help in trying to solve this mystery. If anyone knew where old records and things were kept, it would be him, but you couldn’t afford to tip him off to the fact you were a cop.

Or worse, the Echo.

What would he think, knowing the only reason you curb stomped him in a fight was due to some quirky ability? Zenos didn’t seem the type to believe in such tales, and would probably laugh about it to his father, who would then drag you to the closest testing facility where you’d never see the light of day again.

Groaning, you slam your laptop shut, throwing yourself onto your bed face first as you scream into a pillow. You were running yourself raw, hardly getting any sleep, often searching databases and old news sites until the sun came up. No matter what you tried, all you hit were dead ends. Varis had already committed enough crimes for several lifetimes, and he obviously wouldn’t suffer for any of them to come to light, especially as he starts his campaign trail.

Flipping over, you stare at the painting brushed onto the canopy of your bed, dragging your hand down your face. Loathe as you were to say it, you had no other choice.

You had succeeded in part of your mission. It was time for a change of paths.

Every foot step seemed final as you strode down the hall, head held high, not out of confidence, but knowing that if you allowed even a moment of hesitation to slip through the cracks in your armor, you would back down and you could not afford that.

Too many people were counting on you.

Those who have been lost. Those who can be yet saved.

Cid’s sins would become your own.

Estinien’s gift of life would drive you forward.

And maybe, just maybe, you could free Zenos from his father’s clutches and live a life of normalcy.

Funnily enough, the thought seems to be the most unrealistic, but it doesn’t stop you as you lightly knock upon the grand, mahogany door, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Pushing down on the handle, Varis sits at his desk, papers neatly strewn across its surface. Dressed in a sleek turtleneck with reading glasses resting upon his nose, he looks surprisingly studious. Arching a strong brow, he regards you neutrally. “An unexpected visit. What do you want?”

Taking a deep breath, you relax your stance and lower your gaze. Erecting a balance of firm, yet demure, you gaze at your boss from beneath your lashes.

“I want to become your bodyguard.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #ff14 #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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shnuggletea · 4 years

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Okay, I promise the next chapter won't be so Kagome heavy... I think. I had to rewrite this one because it came out angsty instead of funny. Ooops!

I’ve stolen hubby’s laptop to do some work today. Which, in theory, is great except I have nothing saved on it! I have to go and download all my covers and banners and such and remember passwords to sites... ug. But at least I cane type yeah??

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Shout out all week long to @clearwillow for the kick ass art and @lemonlushff, @neutronstarchild, and @ruddcatha for being the hostess with the mostess!

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Greed

"Greed is your god, Kaz."

He almost laughed at that. "No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever."

― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

There was little doubt in my mind that both Sango and Kagome would be pissed about this but I was doing what I thought was fair. It wasn't right that these guys were expected to spend their entire lives connected to one woman without some additional experience first.

I was surprised at how into it they were though. Especially Miroku. The look on his face, I half expected him to strip himself. Inuyasha took a little bit to warm up to it all. And a few drinks. But now he was loose and enjoying himself. As was I, watching them and the show they were making.

All that was interrupted by the vibration of my phone. I had been ignoring it but it wasn't stopping and I was sure I knew what it was about. I sighed loudly as I spied Kagome's name on the screen.

"Where are the boys?!" Kagome yelled as soon as I answered.

"And a hello to you too…"

"Hellos are for people who answer the fucking phone. We've been calling you for over an hour now!" Sango screamed.

They had it on speakerphone. This was already getting annoying. "The boys are with me and they're fine."

Break time was over music blasting and making the girls hard to hear. But Sango had a very loud voice. "Where the fuck are you?!"

I hung up because there was no point. They would never hear me over the noise and I didn't want to hear their bitching. So I shared my location. They would find us eventually. As it were, it was too late to change or stop anything. Inuyasha and Miroku were no longer completely innocent.

It was just greedy of them to expect Miroku and Inuyasha to be all theirs. They would understand in time. And see that this was not only a good idea but good for the boys and would be healthy for their relationships.

Inuyasha had been planted in a chair since he arrived, but now he was on his feet, really getting into it. His sexy smile was back and I selfishly soaked it up. Because this time, I caused it not Kagome.

The time I thought for sure we still had was cut in half, the girls getting there far faster than I expected. If I'd known they'd be that quick, I would have enjoyed the time we had more. Maybe focused more on Inuyasha intently and taught him a few things.

But the party was over, Sango and Kagome glowering at the three of us.

Sure, I knew the girls wouldn't like it but it was covetousness to expect these men to only have one woman as an example of all their desires. I knew Sango had body issues, so I understood her anger. But Kagome had no reason to glare at me. It wasn't like anyone was cheating.

So once they were close, I defended myself in the manner I felt was fitting, yelling at the two of them over the blasting music. "Chill out, it's just a strip club!"

They continued to glare and went off towards their Mates. I felt no guilt but I did feel something, noting that Naraku wasn't with them. He wasn't behind either, near the door or exit or anything. The two of them ran off to find him when he didn't give a damn about any of us. Did they give up? Or did they never go look for him in the first place? Kagome wouldn't do that but Sango would and she made it clear she didn't care about Naraku already.

My nerves were all over the place and my heart felt gross. I was jealous of Sango and Kagome, their men both around and trying so hard to please them that they came here with me just to learn. While my soulmate was where exactly? He was gone, missing, as far from me as he possibly could.

I didn't want him around, I really didn't. I don't even know why I participated in the stupid spell. I didn't need or want a soulmate. But I wanted to support Kagome and Sango. Now I wasn't sure why I wanted to do even that much because they were far more focused on themselves than on me.

Did they not see how upset I was? How torn up? Naraku was gone and they were more focused on getting their men away from some trained professionals than what I was going through. Some friends they were. I was feeling even less guilty about bringing Inuyasha and Miroku here. And about feelings I had growing for Inuyasha.

oOo

Miroku sat, a girl with only a thong on grinding on his lap while Inuyasha stood at the stage, a girl in a tiny bra set flirting heavily with him and I was in shock. I glanced over at Kagome who was silent and still as well. She looked just as I did, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

Turning back to the trash fire before us, I found Kikyo. She was sitting with a drink watching the two of them enjoy themselves like a pimp or something. I didn't know if she brought them here because she wanted it or they did but already I was full of disappointment.

Miroku was having a blast with another woman on his lap.

Snapping out of it, I mostly followed Kagome's lead as she made for Kikyo first. She hopped to her feet in full fight mode. "Chill out, it's just a strip club."

Just a strip club. Of course, she would see it that way. Kagome split from us for Inuyasha and I went for Miroku.

The girl was giving it her all. Wonder if Kikyo paid her or if Miroku's looks got her to be so enthusiastic? He was a very good looking man especially when he smiled. Which he was, broadly, at the girl servicing him.

His smile brightened his eyes, that's why he looked so much prettier when he did. Bright eyes that flicked to me and my approach but didn't dim or change in the slightest at being caught. "Sango!" It was then I noticed he held his hands up high in the air as if being frisked. "I get it now. Why didn't you tell me of your profession?"

I was tired and pissed so that threw me more than I think it normally would have. But maybe not. "Huh?!"

We were both yelling over the oppressive base as it pounded a rhythm for the girls to gyrate to. Miroku kept his hands high but gestured to the girl on top of him. "Your profession?"

Miroku looked genuinely happy with himself like he had figured out a piece of a difficult puzzle. As cute as he was about it, the pretty girl sitting on his dick had me feeling only outrage. I grabbed his ear and pulled him up to his feet to scream into it with ease. "I'm not a fucking stripper!"

The girl scattered with that. She didn't have a lap to sit on anymore. The guilt I felt for the girl was real. It wasn't her fault, she was just doing her job. Even if that included getting to grind on a good looking guy like Miroku.

With his hands still up in the air, he clearly didn't believe me. So I pressed my body against his and got up on my toes to speak in his face. "I don't want you touching me because I don't know you. Not because it's part of my job, you asshat!" I dropped back to my heels and he dropped his hands. "We're going home."

Confusion marred his beautiful face, "but I've yet to see the entire show…"

My glare shut him up, slapping his mouth tight and moving with me towards the door. Home. I wanted to go home, shower the sweat and now the stink of desperation that filled the club, and go to bed. Hopefully, when I woke, all of this will have been a bad dream and my soulmate wasn't a man of excess.

My eyes drifted to the stage where I had last seen Kagome and not a single molecule of my body would move. Not even my eyes as the train ran right off the track before me. "Oh my god."

oOo

Okay so it had been a while since I'd worked out like this, huffing like a smoker as Sango and I turned the corner Naraku had last disappeared around. It pushed us into a thick crowd that we couldn't run through. Not easily.

Naraku's dark brown waves stood out in the crowd, especially with him taller than most those around. Sango pushed through the people while I tried to remain calm and polite. But that was waning the further Naraku got ahead while strolling along.

"Naraku!" I caught the flinch he did. It was hard and impossible to miss so I tried again. "Naraku stop!"

And he did. Right there in the middle of it all, people had to part like steam around a rock. Because he was unmoving. Sango and I stood before him, eventually, and he still just stood there, waiting. Once we were still, he opened his frown. "I want to be free."

Glancing at Sango, I saw she shared a feeling of guilt as well. "You can't just… run off. You don't know how to be human yet."

"And you do?" He countered.

"More than you do!" Sango squeaked.

He laughed, dark and evil like a villain. "If being human means being weak, then I'd rather continue to be me…"

"But you're a human. Whatever you were before, that's over. You're no longer top… bird."

The smirk he had fell at my words and a knot formed in my belly. "I didn't ask for this. And I certainly didn't ask for that mate."

"I'm sorry but we didn't choose or force any of you…"

"Didn't you?" Naraku shouted towards my face. "You used a power you didn't even understand to bring us here. Bring me here. Never once did you ask any of us if we wanted to come. Even now you're trying to force me to return to that Kikyo. If I align myself with such a loose woman, I will die."

I had to push past the lump in my throat and it hurt. "If you just talk to her, show her how you feel…"

"Impatient? Here you are, rushing me to return to that viper all because you fear leaving your own mates alone with her." Naraku moved for the first time since I 'stopped' him, stepping up close to tower over me. "If I were your mate, you would never have a worry."

I took my eyes off the shadow over me to look at Sango. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. I didn't know if we could stop Naraku from doing whatever he wanted even if that was to squawk us to death. Sango had her doubts too, that we could control him. My only option was, be honest and hope for the best.

"I don't want you, Naraku. I want Inuyasha."

With that, he stepped back and smirked. "Then I'll be on my way then."

In shock, it took both me and Sango a second to regain ourselves. Which was more than a head start for Naraku. I wanted to let him go, I really did. But after today's display, I was concerned for him and others if he was left all alone.

"Naraku!" He ignored me this time, continuing on his way. Anger swelled in me because he saw us as selfish and greedy. Maybe we were demanding mates to appear before us. But right now I was just worried. "Naraku freeze!"

And he did.

Literally.

One foot hung in the air and his arms were held up at his sides in mid-stride. Sango was thoroughly freaked out now, as was I. But then she laughed. "Cute Naraku. Real cute. Now cut it out."

She giggled some more while Naraku didn't move, not even to look at us. "Yeah, Naraku, stand right."

My heart jumped back when he listened again, doing exactly as I asked. Sango didn't seem to notice, snorting as she tried to calm herself. I faked a laugh while Naraku studied me. He knew what was going on too.

I could control him.

With just my words, Naraku was doing exactly as I asked. Even earlier when I was clueless, he had calmed just because I asked him to. I thought he was just placating me but now it seemed he had no choice in the matter. If Naraku was like this… then Inuyasha and Miroku were the same.

So how much of what Inuyasha said or did to me was because I told him to?

The only thing I could remember telling him to do was to speak. Other than that, he had acted on his own… hadn't he?

Now, on top of the guilt, I already had, I felt like I was now swimming in it. But that didn't change the problem at hand and now I had the means to fix it.

Stepping up to him this time, I looked Naraku dead in the eyes. "You will explore, enjoy this world, and learn as much as you can. But once it's dark, you will go home to Kikyo. Understand?"

He nodded slowly and walked away in a trance. I was going to throw up.

Sango patted me on my shoulder sweetly. "Good job. You handled that well, considering."

"Considering?"

"The fact that he's a big, bird monster in a human suit? That wants you? We should tell Kikyo what he said."

I shook my head, feeling dizzy with disgust. "No, we shouldn't."

"Come on! It'll knock her down a few pegs! Her own soulmate finds her repulsive?"

I flashed her a glare and she got it. That was far too cruel to ever say to anyone. Even Kikyo. "Let's just get home. Who knows what Kikyo is doing to them."

Sango shivered and sped away. I didn't like that either. I knew Sango never really liked or trusted Kikyo but with no one to worry about around her, I never gave it much thought. But now we both had men who were new to this world and its expectations. Did they even know what a soulmate was? Or how to treat a woman in this century? Men weren't known for being faithful, it was something the history books showed as well. It was as if it was in their DNA. Not that women were perfect angels and always monogamous. Case in point, Kikyo.

I had always been faithful. I had always been the best girlfriend I could be. And it had never mattered. So I was biased but also yet to be proven wrong and now my supposed soulmate was hanging out with the Queen of loopholes and sin.

When they weren't at our home, I got nervous. But when Kikyo sent her location and we got there, I was just disappointed. In Kikyo and especially in Inuyasha who stood at the end of the stage, grinning like a fool at the stripper before him.

He had a drink in his hand and I had no clue how many that was for him. With the small sway of his hips, I had to assume it wasn't his first.

Inuyasha hadn't noticed me yet, too busy watching the girl take her clothes off before him. Great. Another man that couldn't see me through all the other more attractive and sexy women around him.

Before I could get to him, he took a step closer to the stage and my heart pressed against my throat. Just how much was I going to have to see my soulmate do with another woman? I was set into a confused stupor when he gently pushed the woman to the side and off the stage. A stupor that was turned to confoundment when he took hold of the pole.

My mind was spinning. Just how many drinks did Inuyasha have? The man I met was affectionate, sure. But nothing about him struck me as the type to do a striptease on stage. I quickly passed my gaze around the place. The men that whooped were either too drunk to notice Inuyasha was a man or didn't care. Sango was dumbstruck, her mouth frozen open but with the corners of her mouth upturned. Miroku was clapping in earnest, truly cheering his friend on.

When I turned back, Inuyasha was upside down on the pole, spinning around with his legs split like a pro. What. The fuck?

The hat he had on hit the floor and so did Inuyasha, so hard the place shook as he scrambled to get his hat back on in place. I raced to him then, grabbing his arm tight and pulling him the rest of the way off the stage.

"Are you alright?!"

He tilted his head to the side, his backward baseball cap on top nearly falling off from the movement. I reached up quickly to grab it off but he stopped me, grabbing my wrist hard and painfully. "Leave it."

"Why?!"

He shook his head at me, "I'd hate to be an embarrassment."

Said the man who just made the other strippers jealous of his skills? "What the hell does that mean?"

Letting go, he barely threw my hand away gently. "Means I ain't a puppy and people will be uncomfortable. Especially Master."

Never once had I been uncomfortable with him or his ears. Didn't he notice that when my tongue was in his mouth a few hours ago, licking his fangs?! How much of that had been him anyway?!

He jumped back on the stage, spreading his arms wide and tilting on his drunk feet. He was wasted, I could smell it on his breath when he spoke and see it in his once careful movements. It was why he almost ripped my arm off, keeping it from his stupid hat. Inuyasha started rolling his body, a wave or ripple with his torso. Then he lifted up his shirt just enough for all of us to see his muscles move.

Sweet sassafras.

The men had sobered or figured out, Inuyasha wasn't a buff woman and began to fuss. At his side, I yelled as loud as I could. "Get down now!"

And shit if he didn't obey, doing it at a speed far faster than human. I was shaking, feeling a mixture of sick from Inuyasha's and Naraku's obedience and a fever from Inuyasha's rocking body.

And I meant that literally and figuratively as the roll of his abs was currently playing on repeat in my brain.

Home. We needed to get home and all in one piece. There was too much going on and too much that had happened today. I needed time to think and figure out just what the hell I had done.

And what the hell I could do to fix it.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha sins #sinfully human #greed

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delimeful · 5 years

Text

how easy you are to need (3)

warnings: miscommunication, panic, death mention, virgils negative thinking and completely wrong assumptions

For the next few days, Virgil drifted in and out of consciousness.

His body needed rest badly, especially when it was so injured, but fear wouldn’t let him forget where he was, keeping an iron grip on his mind. He was restless, waking periodically to check his surroundings, make sure they hadn’t grown tired of his stubbornness enough to cage him yet.

For the first day, he only saw Roman and Logan for brief spurts of time, but upon the next morning, Patton had returned to his spot on the plush armchair with no explanation. It was as though he had never been held hostage at all, and whenever he caught Virgil’s gaze on him- and he somehow always caught him- he would offer the shifter a bright smile, one he could see no lie in.

He never responded, but Patton didn’t seem to take offense. He generally didn’t, Virgil recalled from his nights under the floorboards, but he certainly hadn’t thought the courtesy of forgiveness would be extended to him.

That was the strangest part, the casual acceptance, and the most difficult to figure out. The three of them would eat their meals in the living space, settled onto the floor or the chairs around the couch, conversation as easy as if there wasn’t a monster laid out three feet away from them. He was their fourth mute roommate, watching them with narrowed eyes when they weren’t looking and ignoring all subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to draw him into conversation.

It was hard. He’d spent ages wondering what it would be like to be up there with them, human and safe and pack. It was just an impossible dream, but sitting here, in the room with them, made something in him yearn to reach out, let himself be tricked into false comforts. He struggled to repress it, because, well. If he was going to die, he might as well take advantage of their pitying kindness, right?

Still, he managed. A kernel of bitterness was shored up in his throat, a reminder of what was to come, a reminder that this was as cruel a death as any. Maybe crueler than letting him die from his wounds. At least that would have been quick and easy. He was pretty sure the humans weren’t being intentionally cruel. They couldn’t have known how attached he’d gotten, how badly it would hurt to be faced with their larger-than-life presence directly and still know how the story would end. Still know that they were trying to catch him off guard, make him shift so they could kill him and take his pelt.

No matter how many times he told himself that it was for the best, that he understood why they were doing it, that he was a risk to their safety, that kernel of bitterness remained lodged there, a sound like the smallest voice wishing things were different. It wasn’t fair, but neither was life. So it went.

With that dreary mindset driving him deeper into hopelessness, it was no wonder he’d caved when he did.

It was Patton that ultimately got him, which he could have predicted. He woke up as soon as his mind registered something moving around him, and instinctively snarled, flashing his teeth (still considerably sharp in human form) and jolting upright to take in his surroundings.

The soft human was frozen in surprise, the edges of a knitted blanket in his hands. It had already been on his lap when he started drifting off earlier in the night, so it seemed Patton had simply been trying to pull it up to cover more of him. Virgil recoiled back into himself immediately, scanning the dark room for other humans with regret swelling in his throat. Stupid, stupid, he knew better than to snap at one of them, he was going to get himself tortured-

“I’m so sorry!” Patton whispered, mindful of the quiet atmosphere around them. Virgil stopped short, confused, and watched as the human flapped his hands around like errant moths, always stopping short of touching him. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I should have thought before I- Oh gee, I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“What?” Virgil said hoarsely, too-loud in the stillness of the night. And then, before his mind could catch up- “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Patton initially looked delighted at his voice, but then he registered the words and his hands dropped slightly, an uncertain look crossing his face. “Afraid of you? Kiddo-”

“I’m not a child.” Virgil snapped, voice low but distinctly laced with a defensive growl. “I threatened your life a couple of days ago. You shouldn’t be… treating me like this.” Like a houseguest, like someone he cared about.

“Mr. Wolf.” Patton said seriously. “You saved my life just a few days ago, don’t you remember? If it weren’t for you, I’d have come away with much worse than a scratch. It wouldn’t be beary nice of me to treat you badly, now would it?”

Virgil blinked, thrown. “Was- was that a pun?”

Patton grinned, all soft edges and rounded teeth, and his hands flitted over to Virgil’s side. The shifter tensed, but all that happened was those hands tucking the blanket back against him gently and retreating as swift as they came. The human gave him a thumbs up, and when he simply stared back, bewildered, Patton whispered a ‘good night’ before vanishing from the room as well.

The complete lack of fear from the man was astounding. First Logan, now Patton as well? Was he losing his edge or something? Did they somehow not realize that he was a dangerous monster?

He was left alone with his racing thoughts, and by the time morning light broke through the window, he believed he had figured it out.

The kindness, the care, the lack of blood or skin harvesting- it wasn’t a trick to lower his guard. It was a form of gratitude for saving one of their small pack. The humans couldn’t afford to let him live, but they didn’t want to leave such a life debt unpaid, either. Making his last few weeks comfortable was as close to a compromise as they could manage.

The bitter kernel softened slightly, the ache in his chest soothed by the hope that he’d get a taste of real pack living after all. It wouldn’t all be fake. He could let himself accept this.

His concession felt worth it when he got to see Roman’s face, dumbstruck as he finally began to shoot back the nicknames he’d been building a repertoire of all this time. Patton didn’t mention their late night encounter, but he did slip him a sugar cookie. It was sweet and soft in his mouth.

They took his sudden willingness to speak to them in stride, and before long they were laying it on thick, asking his thoughts and opinions on all sorts of things. He was still quiet most of the time, fatigue draining his energy, but they didn’t seem to mind. There was a space for him in their conversations, one he hadn’t noticed before.

Naturally, it was in one of these comfortable conversations that he slipped up.

It was a conversation about the stars, one where they made a game of remembering which hero went to each tale. Logan was banned, of course, from doing anything but offering obscure hints, since he was the one who told the stories in the first place.

Roman and Patton went back and forth, racing to remember this or that name, until Logan described a specific myth that had them both stumped. They were bringing up and discarding all sorts of options, and Virgil felt a stirring of familiarity, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focused on just recalling…

“Andromeda.” Virgil muttered to himself, pleased that he’d managed to remember the name of one of his favorite constellations.

“That’s correct.” Logan said, and he looked up, startled to find the three humans looking at him. “I didn’t know you pursued knowledge about the stars.”

“Dark and Gloomy, you could have been playing properly this whole time?” Roman cried, aghast.

“I don’t- it was just a coincidence. I don’t know anything about stars.” Virgil hurried to correct them, and then followed it up with, “I just overheard Logan mention it. Coincidence.”

The humans all went still for a moment, like a hunter spotting prey, and Virgil felt the first stirrings of panic in his chest as Logan adjusted his glasses. “Falsehood. I have not had time to regale anyone with the mythology behind the Greek constellations since the bear attack. I assume you heard me outdoors at some point prior to that, then?”

Virgil gave his guilt away by stiffening up, teeth clenching and adrenaline coursing through him, but his racing thoughts were promptly interrupted by Logan turning his head to Roman, smug. “Pay up.”

Roman groaned loudly, and Virgil snapped his head to the side to watch as he forked over a handful of cash. “Huh?”

“Sorry, Mr. Wolf.” Patton said, sheepish as he passed over his own currency. “We’ve sort of been maybe trying to figure you out a little, and Logan put his money on you hanging around us for a while before the bear incident…”

That… hadn’t been what he’d expected. “What… What did Roman bet on?”

“I completely reasonably guessed that you were the bear’s destined rival, and you were so sulky for the first few days because you desperately wanted to get back to your passionate battle of broken bonds!” Roman defended with wide gestures for emphasis.

“I’d never seen that bear before in my life.” A startled laugh escaped him without his input, and Roman flushed pink. “Hey!”

Virgil turned to Patton, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“My guardian angel!” Patton informed him brightly, then paused. “Or, guardian wolf, I guess? Either way, the point is you were heaven-sent in my time of need!”

“Uh… not likely.” Now Virgil was the one blushing, and Roman snorted with laughter at his expense. Logan stood, drawing attention to himself.

“My theory was based on significant circumstantial evidence, including the markings you left near our cabin, the familiarity you have shown with us and our… peculiarities, as well as Patton and Roman’s feelings of being watched.”

Virgil winced at that last one. Guess he wasn’t as subtle as he’d thought. Roman complained about ‘not sharing vital evidence with the rest of the class’ and Logan steadfastly ignored him.

“Whatever your reasoning,” Logan continued, “I wish to thank you properly for saving Patton, and helping us. You didn’t have to and it came at... a great cost to you.”

The other two humans quieted, looking to him with their strange expressions. Pity? Gratitude? Expectation? He couldn’t make it out, especially not as flustered as he was at that moment. What was he supposed to say to a heartfelt thank-you like that? ‘Totally, no problem’? Of course it had been a problem, Patton could have died and also now he was stuck here till he was killed. The silence was dragging on too long, shit, just say something-

“Yeah… sure.” He finally choked out, eyes darting anywhere but their faces.

They shared small smiles with each other, returning to their game without mocking him or being irritated with his inability to behave normally. He felt a swell of that heart-squeezing affection again, and before he could talk himself out of it, he spoke.

“Virgil.”

They all looked over, and Roman spoke first, a little confused. “I’m pretty sure this one is Gemini, J.Delightful.”

“No- I’m Virgil.” He averted his gaze as Patton’s eyes grew round as saucers. “I know all your names, so it only seems fair…”

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Virgil.” Logan said, and the other two took the opportunity to add their own greetings, trying his name out on their tongues with glee.

It was the first time he’d ever shared his name with a human.

Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #werewolf au #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #heyatn #how easy you are to need #my god this one took a lot out of me #not completely happy with it but i hope you enjoy #next chapter we finally beat virgils ass for being dumb. looking forward to it #writing #my writing #werewolf #hes soft.

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utopianvoices · 5 years

Text

lights out | j.yunho

∞ genre: friends to lovers au; fluff

∞ word count: 1.85k

∞ description: A power outage was all it took for unsaid feelings to surface.

∞ a/n: i had to redeem my heart after writing that heart breaking angst D: hope y’all like this! x

∞ warnings: slightly suggestive

What was supposed to be a fun movie night had taken a complete 180 turn.

The TV that was at full volume earlier was dead silent now, thanks to the power outage throughout the building. Flashes of lightening illuminates your apartment every few minutes, followed by the loud rumbling of thunder. It also definitely didn't help that you had been watching 'Lights Out' right before the power outage. All because of your stupid best friend.

“I'm sorry!" he exclaims, after stepping on your foot for the third time. "It's so difficult to see in here."

"Seriously, Yunho! Are you that blind?" you hiss at him, rubbing your sore foot with one hand, while the other hand grips your phone which was serving as a flashlight. "Just find the matches quickly before you amputate my foot. My phone's gonna die soon, too."

And just as those words leave your lips, the kitchen is engulfed in complete darkness, as the remaining power in your phone reaches depletion.

"Great."

You tuck your phone into your back pocket, grab your best friend's hand, and make your way back to the couch, courtesy of the light the lightening was providing. "Let's just wait it out, Jeong."

Seeing Yunho comfortable on the couch, you swing your legs over his lap, shooting him a cheeky smile when he glares at you.

But no matter how much he glares at you, you know he wasn’t really mad, because he slowly starts massaging your ankle that he had stepped on earlier, the heat of his hand felt through your sweatpants as you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin.

The way the raging storm sheds light on Yunho’s face makes him look ethereal; like someone who had just walked onto earth straight from the gates of heaven, the light hitting him perfectly, outlining his soft, but striking, features. All he was missing were a pair of wings, and you’d have confirmed your theory about your best friend being an angel. Of course then you might be able to convince yourself that the gigantic crush you had on him was not in your control.

"I’m bored," the boy beside you whines, dragging out the word 'bored' as he throws his head back onto the couch. "Shall we play a game?"

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, retracting your legs as you sit up straight, crossing your legs as you face him.

"Sure," you shrug, entertaining him. "What do you have in mind?"

"Twenty questions!" he chants, clapping his hands as he turns to face you, mirroring your position. It was a game you often played with him when you had first become friends, contributing a lot to the state of your current friendship.

You let out a small chuckle—heart swelling as you take in his eyes that shined bright even in the dark—and send him a nod, indicating that you wanted him to go first, as you look down at the hem of your sweater, waiting for his question. Not a second later, he delivers his question, as if he had it planned all along.

"Would you date your best friend?"

Your head shoots up at his question, heart drumming against your ribcage as you stare at him, unsure if you had heard the question correctly. His face was void of emotions, all traces of laughter from earlier erased, as you will your heart to slow down.

"W-what?"

He continues staring at you, not breaking eye contact as he repeats his question, and you’re sure his voice had gone an octave lower.

"Would. You. Date. Your. Best. Friend?" he repeats, enunciating every word clearly, which would’ve earned an eye roll from you if not for the fact that your brain was in overdrive, thinking of all the possible things you could say.

You knew for a fact that he knew he was your only best friend, which just created more chaos in your brain as you try to decipher the intention behind his question.

If you weren’t so busy battling your own emotions, you would have noticed how loud his heart was beating—still in perfect rhythm with yours—as he waited anxiously for you answer, which he knew would change the direction of your friendship, for better or for worse. He wasn’t the only one who thought the world of the other; but he was the only one who had the curage to do something about it.

Seemingly making up your mind about your answer, you clear your throat, his attention locked onto you, as you mumble some words, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

“I-I guess so.” His heart picks up its speed in response, if even possible, having successfully heard what you had said even if you had said it softly in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to hear. It’s hard to miss out on things you’ve been waiting for.

Yunho opens his mouth to ask you another next question, but you stop him by raising your hand, earning a confused look from him.

“It’s my turn,” you tell him, realisation dawning on his face as he closes his mouth, encouraging you to continue talking. “Would you date your best friend?”

It was a childish move—you knew it was—but you had to know his response to his own question before he could ask you anymore questions that would fry your brain from all the overthinking you could foresee yourself doing.

You’re expecting some form of hesitation, but his answer, unlike yours, is laced with confidence and pride.

“I would.” He answers loud and clear, making your face heat up as you feel your body swell with love for the tall boy sitting a few inches away from you, along with a twinge of guilt stemming from how uncertain you had sounded.

You can’t stop the small smile gracing your face as your eyes avoid Yunho and dart all around the room, unable to face him directly from your indirect confession.

Seeing your shy smile, Yunho sports a smile of his own, slowly moving his body forward so that the gap between you both was now smaller than before, allowing him to take in the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you smile, and the way your eyelashes flutter every time you blink.

Unbeknownst to himself, he blurts out the next question, caught up in the moment of admiring you. And for the third time that night, your heart stops.

“Would you kiss your best friend?”

Your eyes meet Yunho’s in a flash, as he continues to look at you like you hung the moon in the sky, and you immediately notice the lack of distance between you and him. If you leaned in slightly, you could count the number of stars he held in his eyes, or even find out how his soft lips tasted.

You decide you are more curious about the latter.

Pulse racing, you lean forward as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your lips against Yunho’s in a soft kiss, conveying your affirmative answer through that one action; something a thousand words wouldn’t be able to achieve.

Robbing him of his time to react, you pull away as quickly as you had leaned in, taking in the dazed look on his face as it finally dawns on him what you had done. Unable to stop yourself, laughter spills out of your lips as your mind replays the way he had looked like such a cute puppy when you pulled away.

But as you’re struggling to catch your breath, too busy laughing behind your hands, you don’t realise the way his eyes darkens as he stares at you, now out of his daze, as his mind replays the way your lips felt against his. Subconsciously, his tongue darts out and swipes across his lips, wanting to taste you again.

Without warning, he thrusts his hand out and grabs yours, pulling you towards him as you let out a small squeak at the sudden movement. He effortlessly carries and places you on his lap, his hands finding home on your waist as yours automatically hold onto his shoulder for support, your legs on either side of his.

You’re now breathless for a whole new reason, as you both stare into each other’s eyes. The intensity in his eyes makes you want to look away, but at the same time, entrancing you in even more, the tension in the room thick.

Finally, it’s like something snaps in him, and he’s craning his neck upwards as he connects your lips together, the kiss conveying utter desperation, and you can feel yourself weakening as his mouth moves hotly against yours.

Your hands travel to the back of his head as you play with the ends of his hair, causing him to tighten his grip on your waist, trying to pull you even closer, even if it was physically impossible with how much you were already pressed up against him.

His hands travel to the skin that was left uncovered by your shirt, triggering a sound from you that was muffled by his lips on yours. But the vibration was enough to elicit a reaction from him, resulting in him biting down softly on your bottom lip purely as a knee jerk reaction, willing to stop the sound threatening to escape him.

His lips leave yours as they travel along your jaw, leaving soft feather-like kisses against your skin, earning soft sighs from you, as you bask in the pleasure filling you up as your hands clasp tightly behind him.

Just as his hands clench around the ends of your shirt, tugging at it, the TV blares, causing you both to pull apart in shock. Your once dark apartment was now lit up by the light from the TV, as power returns to your complex.

You look around your apartment in confusion, finally meeting Yunho’s eyes, as you take in his dishevelled hair and swollen lips, dissolving into a fit of giggles as it dawns on you what you had been doing with your best friend just moments ago.

But maybe, best friends wouldn’t be the most appropriate words to describe your relationship anymore.

You place a soft, smiley kiss on Yunho’s lips before engulfing him in a warm hug, not moving from your previous position of straddling him. He returns the hug, as he buries his face into your neck, and he’s sure you can feel his smile against your neck from how wide he was smiling.

Yunho pulls away first, cupping your face and leaning his forehead against yours, and you can feel his hot breath fanning your lips. All traces of shyness erased from the both of you as you stare into each other’s eyes quietly, praying this moment never ends.

“Be mine,” he whispers, breaking the silence, and then smiling when your tinkling laugh fills his ears.

You grin at him, deciding to tease him, knowing that he knew your obvious answer. “Depends. Will you be mine?”

It was his turn to chuckle, as he leans in slowly and whispers against your lips.

“Forever.”

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #jeong yunho imagines #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho #dee scribbles #sadlfkjskld sorry it's so rushed and short #i just wanted to write something #after going mia for so long #:(#also why did i talk about hearts so much #i can't stand myself #asldfjksd #ALSO I SINNED AT THE END OF FIC #OOPS?#>:D

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grapefruitsketches · 4 years

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Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 6: Breeze

(honestly, who else could be “breeze” but XXC?)

Part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series (this is the “XXC Prequel”):

Also available AO3: link

2,883 Words

Songxiao, Xiao Xingchen Centric, hurt/comfort; Post Yi City Arc, I don’t care how XXC survives/is revived, I just know he does/is.

“Say something. Say something. Can’t you say something?” the wind had shifted, the dead stayed silent, and he felt himself shatter, leaving only frozen shards of the disgusting joke he’d turned out to be.

He was moving. More intriguing, though, was that he was. But what was he exactly? He remembered being whole, but this was not that. Whole was light, sounds, smells, taste, touch. Whole could even be without some of those sensations, but he didn’t know what to make of being without any of them.

Yet he knew he was moving, so he knew he was something.

He drifted, musing that this must be what it was like to be like leaves on the breeze. No… not leaves… something else in the breeze. He was… he was…

A memory of cold light piercing the dark, creating dancing shadows through the branches swaying in the breeze. He reached and melded with the answer, which had been floating next to, and now was once again part of, him.

The Moon in the Breeze.

That had been him. But that couldn’t be true now. The breeze couldn’t be moved. The breeze was the one that moved. And certainly his movement right now was not of his own doing. The air around him compressed and he became aware of walls around him which were now contracting, squeezed by some force larger and outside of the world he now occupied.

Zichen.

He felt a rush at that name - he did not have to reach as answers to questions he had forgotten rushed to him from all around. He - whatever he was - grew as the pieces merged together. How could he have forgotten the Gentry despite the Frost?

Zichen had been his first guide in a world totally unfamiliar to him. He had known from their first meeting that he could always count on Song Lan to follow him, wherever the breeze might take him, without that promise ever having to be said aloud. Xiao Xingchen - for with Zichen’s name had come his own - had been able follow trails to any number of disasters, and Zichen would always be close behind him. Xingchen had been prepared to roam the world alone ever since the day he gave his farewells to the mountains he had grown up in, but Zichen had made sure he always had someone by his side.

So it was no surprise, then, that Zichen would be the one sheltering his growing awareness.

He was content. Existing only in the warmth and knowledge that Zichen was by his side, protecting him.

But this contentment wavered. There was something else in here. Something else that, like the other pieces he had merged with, was him. But this other-something was not warm. It was not light. He wanted to retreat from it, hide, remain in this safe bubble he had formed for himself, under Zichen’s protection. But even as the instinct to hide grew, so it became apparent that this was impossible. The darkness drew close, vibrating dangerously, electric, reaching to rejoin the spirit it belonged to. This too, was a part of him. And resistance was only temporary denial.

He let it in.

A shock, like the feeling of removing a slipper to expose the frostbitten foot hiding beneath to the open air.

You couldn’t do anything. You’ve failed miserably. You’re the only one to blame. You asked for all of this!

He felt himself flicker, and it was all he could do to prevent his fragile light of awareness from falling apart once more as his darkness joined the light.

He remembered that the voice was right about him before he had even remembered who the voice belonged to. Its dangerous vibration was now part of him and he trembled violently, almost missing that the movement of the spirit bag - for he now understood where he must be - moved him up, no longer merely the light jostling that came with Zichen’s gait. His trembling softened. Something occurred to him, despite Xue Yang’s echoing voice. Zichen was still alive? Perhaps his failure had destroyed less than he had imagined? But then… why had Fuxue attacked him? The feel of the cold metal, the engraved characters in the sword, were clear in his memory.

He was confused, but a tightening pressure on the spirit bag felt somehow reassuring. Was Zichen… hugging him?

He wanted to sob, he wanted to yell, he wanted, above all, to return Zichen’s embrace. But here he was - useless, trapped in this dispersed form and only grateful that the mercy he was subjected to was of someone who would never hurt him.

But how?

It had been Fuxue that had tried to attack him, before he had let his own Shuanghua finish the job. Zichen would never do that to him, so he had known that his cultivation partner must have been under Xue Yang’s control. And then, Xue Yang had all but told him that he had killed Zichen himself. No matter how hard he tried to break off the part of himself that remembered, Xingchen knew that he had driven Shanghua through the silent form of the one he tried to protect above all, before casually greeting the foe he had thought was a friend. He had soon found out that the silent form had not been a corpse at all. At least, not until Xingchen had intervened.

The pressure placed by the hands on the bag increased. This was… not even forgiveness but…concern? Love? Despite everything, Zichen didn’t even blame him? But… Xiaochen had been everything Xue Yang had accused him of - a stupid, naïve, dumb idiot. He had killed innocents. He should have stayed on the mountain, as his Master had urged. The only one who had deserved Shuanghua’s blade had been himself, and yet… here Zichen still was. Why?

You were trying to do the right thing.

A voice came from another fragment of himself as it joined his core. The voice was Baoshan Sanren’s. He was 8 and he had brought her a baby bird that had fallen from a tree. He had been in the middle of asking her what he should do to help heal it, when it had died in his hands. His Master had sat him down and gently explained that it had died of shock, that it might have been ok if it had been left alone. She explained that once the bird had met the world outside the nest, it couldn’t truly return to its home. Master Baoshan had told him hat sometimes, the best thing we could do was to stand aside, to let nature take its course. Perhaps the bird’s mother would have come back, perhaps not. But, she had said, he should not feel too bad - even though he now held the dead bird’s body in his hands - he had been trying to do the right thing, after all.

He remembered the baby bird. Its shivering form, the odd angle of its wing, its panicked look as it searched for the edges of the nest that were its sole context for the world. Its final shudder, and its sudden stillness.

His Master’s pitying but resigned look had been echoed when, years later, he had decided that he should take the lessons he had learned from her and try to help heal the world with them.

Baoshan Sanren had taken a sip from her tea, the bitter scent one that he had never smelled again once he had left the mountain, and told him that he could not expect hijs actions to heal the world. That there were some things that were best left alone and others that, no matter how he intervened, would stubbornly persist in the damage they caused. He had known of the fights between clans, of the needless bloodshed of innocents that these disputes had caused. He had thought that if he stayed out of it, he could avoid the tragedies that Baoshan Sanren, in her relationship with Lan Yi, or Cangse Sanren, in her relationship with Wei Changze (and by extension, the Jiang clan) had experienced. He had vowed to remain independent.

He had caused the massacre of Baixue Temple anyway.

You were trying to do the right thing.

Of course he knew that - he had pursued Xue Yang, who had, in the absence of clan politics, taken it upon himself to exterminate various minor clans. He had seen the bodies, the remains of whole cities, the families, the children! He had tried to end it. He had only tried to end the murders. Did that relieve him of responsibility for the lives lost in Yi City by his own hand? He must have spoken to some of them - asked for directions, for a good price on potatoes. They had been innocent. His sword, the one he had sworn to use only to do save the world, had ended their innocent lives.

But what was the cause?

He was 10. He had found, hidden behind a panel in the library, a scroll, It had looked like a diary. It outlined a theory on the use of talismans to subdue demons. This was not what had drawn his attention though. Instead, it had been the notes scrawled in the corners, seemingly unrelated to the scroll’s general premise, musing about the relationship between the cultivator and the outcome for the souls they sought to soothe. The comments wondered whether it was the cultivator’s job to put the spirit to rest, whether it was only their job to try to put the spirit to rest, or whether it was merely their job to try and return peace to whatever environment the spirit was aggravating at the time, regardless of the outcome for the spirit itself? What was the original cause of the disruption? The scribbles had underlined this final line several times.

The scroll had been signed Cangse Sanren. Xingchen had wondered why she had cared so much - didn’t it matter just as much if you played a role in disaster as if you had started it? Either way, you could have stopped it.

Only if you knew that was what you were doing.

This voice… it didn’t have a specific source that he could recall. It seemed, instead, to be coming from within. He paused on this thought. What had he known?

He thought back.

He had known that he belonged by Song Lan’s side. He had known that it was his place at Zichen’s side that had led to the massacre at Baixue Temple. He had known that his continued presence by Zichen’s side could only hurt them both, that all he could do to repay Zichen for the harm that he had caused was to give Song Lan his eyes back. He knew that blindness was hardly even a loss compared to what Zichen must have felt, coming back to Baixue Temple to the carefully and conspicuously organized bodies of the people he had grown up with.

Xingchen had also known that he was helping A-Qing - that the two of them would work better as a pair than they could alone. He had known that the man they had found on the banks of the river had needed their help, that he couldn’t survive without them. He understood that this man had suffered, that everyone deserved some kindness, some gentle treatment in their lives. That providing some candy was a small gesture that would mean a lot to this person. He had known - or thought he had known - that Zichen would be better without him. He believed that the best Xingchen could do for this Song Lan, who had shown him so much compassion, only to be repaid in so much tragedy, was to pay his kindness forward, to provide for those who had no one they could rely on.

He had known all this, had acted based on it. So… he felt the bag clench again from outside forces and realized that he had once again become agitated. He leaned into the pressure. Did he truly deserve to suffer when he had been acting only to bring more kindness to the world? What, as Cangse Sanren had asked, had been the cause?

Xiao Xingchen had never been one to deny responsibility. In fact, his reputation in the cultivation world revealed the opposite: he was one who would accept responsibility even where there was little if any connection to his actions. And yet, he was still a man of reason. From here, feeling the affection coming through the gentle touch of Zichen’s hands on the spirit bag, and reflecting on the events leading to the massacre in Yi City, he could not find his misstep. He could not identify a moment where he could have done differently. The man who had set him on the course of bringing tragedy to the City had done so by preying on Xingchen’s drive to save the world, not some secret need to destroy it.

The darkness, that had seemed so huge, so all-encompassing, as it had joined his form, seemed to shrink, made small through the combination of the affection flowing from the pressure on the spirit bag with the growing strength of the light of the essence that made up most of his spirit. It still hurt, it no doubt always would. But it hurt like a bad memory, like a nostalgia for a time before one knew of the bad things in the world. It no longer felt sharp, was no longer a pang of guilt and self-hatred, a feeling that but for him, the world would be a better place.

If he could forgive Xue Yang, one who had committed murders on purpose, as a victim of circumstance, could he not afford himself at least a fraction of the same courtesy? Leaning into the hand he knew was at the walls of the spirit bag, he felt that maybe he could.

It took some time. He could not speak, he could not do much but make himself brighter, or expand slightly. He hoped, he prayed, that Zichen might notice. Eventually, he was able to expand himself to reach every corner of the bag he occupied, to push against the edges of the space he occupied, to brighten, to flicker. He was rewarded for his efforts. He heard a grunt of surprise, then excitement. He understood that the bag had been hugged close to a chest. He heard a whoosh, and understood that he and Zichen were in the air, flying, urgently, somewhere.

There were voices - not Zichen’s, which Xiao Xingchen had not heard since that terrible day at Baixue Temple - but others… was that Wei Wuxian? What had been the cause, that boy’s mother had once asked. Wasn’t Wei Wuxian dead? What did Xingchen know? He was so disconnected from the world. All he knew was that sadness turned to cruelty. Xiao Xingchen had concluded that this had been the cause of his own situation, but he suspected that this might explain many other tragedies. He had resolved himself to avoid this treacherous path, of assuming the worst in others. It could only cause further harm. Perhaps there had been more to Wei Wuxian’s story?

“Good luck.” This was the voice of Lan Wangji, recognizable as a voice Xiao Xingchen had only heard when it had something important to say. What was Zichen up to?

Xiao Xingchen didn’t dare to hope - it was enough to exist by Zichen’s side, was it not? To know he was ok, that he was living the legacies of Xiao Xingchen’s mountain home and Baixue Temple in his own way. But still… Xingchen could not deny it would be nice to feel Zichen’s touch yet again, to ask and know that he let himself feel happy sometimes.

The bag opened, and for the first time in a long time, XIngchen felt himself move along the path of a breeze, along a path of least resistance, to a familiar home inside a form he thought was lost to him forever.

He let out a breath. A true and pure breath of clean air. He had rediscovered the use of fingers, had started rotating his wrists when a weight fell across his now rising and falling chest.

“Zichen” he breathed, happy that that could be the first word to pass his lips after all this time. He felt warmth on his cheeks as the tears he could not cry as he had lingered in the spirit bag were unleashed all at once. He regained feeling in an arm and moved it to embrace, as he had longed to do for so long, the shaking figure draped over him. “Zichen” he repeated, feeling both disbelief and a profound understanding that there was nowhere else he should be right now.

There was much they had to figure out - apologies that would flow both ways, new obstacles they would have to overcome. But for now, Xingchen thought as he held his Zichen’s sobbing shape close to him for the first time in over two decades, this would be enough.

I have ideas for a companion Song Lan piece (probably day 18?) and possibly a joint XXC/SL piece later this month! Let me know if you’re interested, I’ll post them here and on AO3 (same username) :)

#untamed spring fest #the untamed #mdzs #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #apparently I had a lot of songxiao feelings #my writing #songxiao fix it series

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pernatius · 4 years

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Lost in Space Part 9: Ch 3

Summary: Syco and the unnamed Space Explorer question their choices.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Their arm springs towards me. My sword goes right through them. The book I had let go of several moments ago, the one I could not read, shakes. The unknown figure before me grunts as their hand begins to shake as well. A jerk later, and the book goes flying towards them. They catch it. Quickly, I realize they are a known figure. He is Sakhra’s brother. Ex-brother? I am thousands of light-years away from that desert planet, so why is he here? Does it have to do with Sakhra’s reasoning for not coming with us? I hope he’s okay and that his brothers and sisters do not cross paths with Syco anytime soon because when you are desperate you no longer care. I should do something about that. He trusts me. I should end it before the boulder hits the ground, but it's my stupid humanity that stops me from doing so. Emotions help you see, but it also keeps you from doing anything of substance. I am not strong enough, Ojos. I am sorry.

Two sets of eyes, who now have eye bags underneath them, seemingly stab me. Then, look down at the now open book. It’s not even a minute before their eyes finish scanning through it. Closing it, Sakhra’s ex-brother opens up with, “Another unrelated one, but not completely useless.”

He slides the book in his sleeve before scanning around the circular wall of books around us and turning back around to the opening behind him. I opened my mouth as he looked both ways, watching out for any guards that may be around, so I could press for answers. Just like then, his steps are precise, gentle. It’s an excuse. I do not want him to stop. I want to know where he is going. I want to know what interested him in coming here. I want to know if I am making the right choice.

A broad-shouldered figure causes the stairs in front of me and the column my four-eyed leader is hiding behind to creak as he walks down it. He waves his flashlight across the hallway. It passes through me, and not too long after, he does as well. Turning the corner, the once cultist heads up the stairs. I do as well. When landing on the second floor, he goes right into scanning the books that have been carelessly scattered all over the walkway. Three of them are balancing on the handrail. Soon I am leaning over them as the cloaked figure proceeds onwards. Right when I am about to lose sight of him, I also scan. A million books. There have to be at least a million books on the first floor alone. Even if Shiitakee tried to validate Saamuki's theory, one that is “going to change everything”, we would not come close to finishing the first floor. A month and we would barely make it halfway. I wonder how Saamuki is doing. By now, Shiitakee is back on the ship drooling and snoring, waiting for us to come back after just flipping through three books, but he is not useless. Apparently, not. I do not know much about him. He’s known Syco for a long time, years, yet Syco trusts me more than him. Why? Unlike Commander Knox, Shiitakee has not proven himself to be untrustworthy. He has not snitched on us peeking in on The Commander being on life support. Maybe there is more to his whining. I hope this all is not another convoluted plan for Syco to see just how small his inner circle has become. Shiitakee is with our unconscious bodies, after all. I stretch and yawn as he becomes interested in a book with torn and stained pages.

He is pressing his hands and sliding them across a dead-end by the time I stop trying to reason my realizations. There is a third floor. I saw it from down there. So, why is there a dead-end? His middle and index fingers glide across it, collecting dust and causing a spider to skitter away. He flicks away the grey spot on his fingers and leans closer to the trail he made. The figure, now triumphant, has to move behind a large stack of books when footsteps close in. I think I hear him cuss. Another broad figure, though this one is slender, comes this way with a flashlight. Pointed on the wall, he spots my companion’s handiwork. He steps towards it, squinting. "Hm." He waves his flashlight around. The universe works in mysterious ways, it seems. If I am being honest, I have to say I love it sometimes. Most of the time, I hate it. Now? Well, I am not sure. His watch blinks green. It vibrates with a soft buzz. He leaves and leaves my relieved, cloaked companion to wander back to the wall and fiddle around some more with it until a click is heard. A chunk of the door slides inwards to the left. Somehow the room beyond looked darker than outer space. As soon as he steps inside, the door begins to slide back into place. I follow, going through half of the closing door. Another click. The door shuts, locking us in darkness. Then, locking us with an illuminated staircase thanks to the flashlight he pulled out of his sleeve. I wonder what else is up his sleeve.

Against the winding staircase are two brick walls. Among them are paintings. Dust makes it hard to see who or what is painted. It’s not like they’re important to the mission, but one of them catches my eye. Five scratches, a claw, tore through the face of a well-dressed man with a scowl and a balding head. I touch the torn cotton page, press against it, and I, thankfully, find out the deed was done much time ago, but this means its cause is lost to time. I do hope it stays that way. I do not want to confront its cause anytime soon. Although, the universe has an odd way of connecting me with people I would not ever think I would be in the presence of.

I certainly would not have imagined being in the presence of that. This floor is just like the others. Books had been mindlessly placed wherever on nearly every crook and cranny. Although, besides being a lot smaller than its predecessors, this one has the added bonus of having a statue of a caped figure pointing towards the window. The statue has a faceless mask. Rounding it, as my companion mutters about his plea to find what he is looking for while shuffling through book after book, I see that same symbol that was all over that town square, a circle with a dot inside, directly plastered at the center of the statue’s cape. I step back and grip the handrail. Turns out I am not the only one discontent because he too is not any better at finding out what he is looking for. Pacing back and forth, he mumbles something. He nearly trips on a book while doing so, which he kicks away. Eventually, he squeezes the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb, using the hand of the arm I stabbed days ago. Then, proceeds to groan but is cut short by the opening of another entrance. All four of his eyes widened. He throws himself behind one of the many stacks of books.

A secret door slides inwards from the statue's podium in the corner of my eye. A striking figure with a faceless mask and a cape appears in its doorway. My eyes dart back and forth from this newly arrived figure to the statue. Both are one and the same.

The figure bends down and seizes the book my companion had just kicked off the ground. They turn to me. One minute into this figure’s arrival and I am already getting a bad feeling about them. They turn and stride towards me. Their cape trails behind them. I really thought they could see me. I should know by now it would be impossible because I trust Saamuki, but it is just the vibe I get from them that causes me to think so irrationally. Of course, they do not notice me even as they step next to me. Upon gripping the handrail with one hand and throwing the book to the first floor with the other, which fell with a deafening slam, I find out why the library is the way that it is. Swatting the side of the cape with the newly freed hand, they groan while lowering their head. Their voice is deep, but there is a bit of femininity to it. “Those insolent imbeciles.” Tightening their grip on the handrail, I hear friction. I think I hear a crack. Maybe the wood beneath their terrifyingly big hand split. I am not sure. I am too weary to check.

Raising their head up, but with hunched shoulders now, they continue, “At least I have this place, the only place left in the universe where I can finally be alone and away from those bastards.”

Magically, a parchment appears in their free now glowing golden hand. With a deep inhale, they then proceed to write down the reason for their annoyance. It goes as follows: “It would be ignorant of me—a failure of my due diligence—to dismiss my duty within the council. Therefore, I understand each of us is in charge of distinct positions. However, at times, our positions must blend into one another as those occurrences involve imprecise issues. (This should be common sense to the others by now. Apparently, not. I presume they do it on purpose.) I seek out fallacies, although it is nonsensical to say such as it is an obligation. I was born to feel this way. Refer to ‘On the Creation: Between Mortal and God’, edition five if confused, or dare I say, forgotten. My duty, in the summary of chapter eleven of the previously mentioned book, is to provide reasoning and logic to the Lords of the Universe.”

I froze. I can not make a sound, and I for sure can not do anything with this information. Right here. Right in front of me stands the point of this all. Before I barked, and now I can not bite. The Lords of the Universe are the executives of the universe and commanders of Watchers. They are the reason why Syco dehumanized me. Most importantly they have my people. Their cape and the vibe they gave me make sense now. Supposedly, I am to confront them soon enough. I want to do something, anything but run away. I can not, though. I could touch them, and they can not touch me, I hope. My computerized sword would not do much good. One blast and I would just be teleported back to the ship, thousands of light-years away. It is useless, so I have to remind myself to remain silent. My companion tries to do just that as they raise their head from the small wall of books. Because the Lord is still facing away, they proceed to get up and move towards the secret door we came out of. He is quiet as per usual. The Lord continues to scribble down on their parchment, but they stop once he reaches where the door should be.

“Ah, the famous knife-wielder I have heard so much about.” He freezes. The Lord, turning to him, has the parchment fade away with the fading of their glow. “And before you ask, yes, I did know you have been here since I stepped foot on this floor. I did not react until now because you were of no danger to me. You still are not. You as well, human.” I pull both my dagger and staff out. The Lord lifts their hand. Continuing, “There is no need to become barbaric. I plan to let the both of you go after a brief interrogation.”

#221 #lost in space #my wrting #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 4 years

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Creatures of the Night

Chapter 4 - on this earth who was once a star and made the same mistakes as humans

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: panic attacks, hopelessness, suicidal thoughts, pain, and some graphic imagery.)

(The title of the chapter comes from “A Map to the New World” by Joy Harjo.)

This is completely insane, Roman thought begrudgingly as he slipped between two fences separating backyards. He knew Logan meant well, he really did, but Logan hadn't fought this thing. He'd never even seen it. How could he ask Roman to risk death for a theory he already knew wouldn't work?

A thought in the back of his mind quipped, If you're so sure it won't work, why are you following through with it?

Shut up, he thought back, stretching his sleeves over his hands and shivering. It was the tail end of summer, and the nights were growing chilly. He looked up at the night sky. He couldn't see a single star; the moon was nothing more than a circular patch of light-tinted clouds. Rain clouds as dark as his mood hung low with the weight of the water they carried, blocking out all hope of light and threatening to spill forth their contents. Of course, Roman hadn't thought to bring a jacket. It had rained earlier that evening, and it mostly likely would again. If it did rain while he was out there, hypothermia would kill him far before the serpent got a chance. The wind whipped past him, drawing the heat from his skin and causing a swath of goosebumps to rise on his arms. He cursed under his breath and folded his arms tight against his chest, tucking his chin into the neck of his shirt and plowing on.

Roman stopped.

He was being watched. He just knew. After being hunted for as long as he had, he'd gotten pretty good at noticing and identifying the strange feeling. Sure, he wasn't even halfway to the forest border yet, and the curse prevented the demon from crossing over into Wakeby proper, but Roman was still on edge. Whatever was stalking him was definitely good at it. It hadn't made a noise thus far. Roman's instincts had been hewn down and reshaped into the mindset of prey, always on alert and never trusting the silence. He turned, thanking his lucky star that the streetlights bled far enough in his direction to offer what meager light they could.

His heart crawled up into his throat.

Two silver disks reflected back out at him from the inky darkness. They were small, but fairly high up—far taller than himself. He couldn't make out a body, only the two, unblinking, pupil-less eyes. Roman drew his sword and held it out in front of him, taking a few steps backs in an attempt to draw it out into the light.

"Show yourself," he said, wishing he didn't sound as terrified as he did. No reply. Not even a sound. The eyes turned diagonal, as if the creature were cocking its head to the side. They disappeared for a second; a blink. Suddenly, they dropped to the ground and bobbed toward him. Confused and terrified, Roman watched as slowly, out of the darkness emerged...

A cat.

Roman let out an explosive exhale, placing a hand on his heart and squatting down. "You scared me, buddy." The cat just watched him with its bright amber eyes. It's fur was as pitch black as the shadows clinging to the walls of the houses. Looking down the alley, Roman realized the cat had been following him along the top of the fence. That's why it's eyes had appeared so high up. He held out a hand. The cat looked at it, but didn't make a move to sniff it. It looked back up at him. Roman ran a hand down his face and laughed tiredly.

"You're going to get caught in the rain, kitty."

It made a soft noise in the back of its throat and blinked. Sighing, Roman stood, sheathed his sword, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "See you later, little guy," he muttered, then continued down the street. He'd only traveled a few steps, however, and the feeling of being watched didn't dissipate. Turning, he saw the cat trailing a few feet behind him, paws padding silently down the sidewalk.

He shook his head and smiled, "You can't follow where I'm going, kitty. Run along."

If a cat could have rolled its eyes, this one did. It stopped near his ankles, looking up at him, then down the street expectantly. At last acquiescing, Roman continued walking with the cat at his side. He had to admit, it felt good to have some company, especially the kind that didn't ask questions like why are you sneaking around a night with weapons? The feline followed him the entire way, somewhat settling the nerves churning within him. They stepped off the side of the road and into the tall, yellow grass that proceeded the tree line. It was still damp from the rain earlier that evening. Roman picked up the cat, holding it to his chest.

"You don't want to get soaking wet, do you?" he said, trudging through the meadow. Soon, his pants were soaked up to his knees. The cat purred loudly. Roman found the warm vibrations against his chest quite calming—like lying under a weighted blanket. He stopped just before the forest, staring up at the treetops. He could barely see them in the darkness.

He let out a shaky breath. "Are you afraid of dying?" he asked. The purring stopped. He laughed sadly. "I am. Absolutely terrified of it. You'd think after risking it for as long as I have, I'd be used to it. You have nine lives, right?" He looked down at the cat expectantly. "Can I have some?" Roman laughed wetly at his attempt at a joke. It was a bad idea; the chuckles devolved into tears.

"I'm going to die," he whispered.

The cat was impossibly still, the only sign of life being the soft rise and fall of its chest beneath Roman's hand. His trembling hand. Oh, how he wished there was someone to hold it. To smile at him reassuringly and walk with him into the darkness. Roman stood there, chest rattling in the preamble to a nervous breakdown. He sank to his knees and released the cat, worried if he held onto it any tighter, he might end up hurting it. Mud soaked through the knees of his jeans and he stuffed the side of his fist into his mouth to keep from sobbing. It was pathetic, the shudders that wracked his body as he silently wept, bending over his knees and pressing his forehead into the earth. He took deep gulping breathes, like all the oxygen in the air had disappeared. The curse wreaked havoc within him, furious at his reluctance to fulfill his obligations. Roman relished the pain, finding solace in the blinding, burning clarity it brought his mind. A strangled, choking sound crawled up and out of his throat.

He felt the velvety soft touch of a nose across the backs of his hands, which were currently tangled in and tearing at his hair. The cat began to purr again, coming around and pressing the top of its head against his ear. Roman relaxed, letting the calm rumbling overpower everything else whirling through his mind. It took a few minutes, but he eventually calmed down, his breathing becoming slow and tired. He was exhausted. He felt like he'd already fought the stupid snake for a few hours, and he hadn't even started yet. He sat up, pushing his hair back and out of his face. His face was red and puffy from crying, but he didn't really care. Roman wiped his face and smiled.

"Thanks, buddy."

The cat blinked, then darted off back toward civilization. Roman watched the dark shape streak through the grass for a moment before it disappeared around the corner of a house. He took another deep breath, then stood up and stepped into the forest.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roman's sword remained in its sheath as he trudged through the forest. He didn't bother being quiet, and barely paid attention to his surroundings. He didn't hear anything, but he felt the demon's eyes on him. He didn't care. Perhaps, it was so confused by his odd behavior it assumed he had some sort of trap he was baiting it into. Roman didn't, but was slightly glad that it thought he did. His feet carried him where he wanted to go while his mind, still numb from what had happened outside the forest, wandered through the blurry static that filled his head like cotton. This was his last resort, he decided. If Logan's idea didn't work, he wouldn't fight back. He couldn't do it anymore. Let the demon do what it wanted with him.

He reached the clearing after some number of minutes he couldn't have specified. The space was wide and open, almost a perfect circle among the trees. The grass here was pale green, as if it were the beginning of spring. Small white flowers peppered the meadow, swaying gently in a sweet breeze that teased the coming rain. A nice place to die, Roman thought. He couldn't decide whether he was being sarcastic or not. He found he didn't care either way.

He reached the middle of the clearing, slipped his sheathed sword off of its place on his belt and threw it to the ground. Next came the side holsters with his guns, followed by his dagger and all of his armor. Roman looked at them in the grass for a moment before kicking them a good distance away, out of arms reach.

He took a cross-legged seat, and waited.

And waited.

Several dozen minutes passed without so much as a slither from the surrounding trees. Roman began picking at the grass, braiding it into a crown and interweaving the wildflowers near his feet. It was somewhat nice, just getting to sit and enjoy the night air for once. A cold spot of water plopped on the top of his head, and he paused in his crown-making. He looked up at the sky. It was too dark to make any judgments about how hard it would rain. He'd dealt with the curse during winter before. Sure, snakes were cold-blooded and usually hibernated during cold months, but Roman wasn't exactly fighting a normal snake. No doubt it had some sort of magic keeping it warm through the rain and snow. All snow was good for was making things harder for Roman. Slipping in the middle of a fight with a demon wasn't exactly a good thing.

The rain began as a mist, then a sprinkle, eventually evening out into a light downpour. Enough to keep him wet, but nothing he would consider a storm—yet, at least. He wasn't shivering at the moment, but his fingers were beginning to numb with cold, making his project harder to complete.

He noticed a small plant a few paces to his right. Silkweed. How ironic, he thought, leaning over and plucking the plant. He'd discovered several months ago, quite by accident, that chewing the leaves counteracted the demon-snake's venom. He hadn't been bitten, only lightly grazed. Roman wasn't entirely sure, even now, how he'd singled out the silvery plant. He'd just sort of... known. He turned the leaves over in his fingers. If he placed one under his tongue, he'd have a chance at saving himself.

Roman tossed the plant into the dirt.

The sound of something heavy moving across the ground caught his ear and he looked up. Finally, he thought, setting his flower crown down. At the edge of the clearing, the serpent glided through the grass toward him, moving as slow as a cat stalking a mouse. Closer and closer it came. Roman's hands trembled, but he didn't move. He didn't grab his weapons. The rain intensified. Roman knew he should say something, and fast, before the thing decided to take advantage of his apparent idiocy and strike. His mouth didn't want to move. What was he doing? Sure, this was a last resort, but he actually had to make the effort first before giving up. Right? The demon was only a few dozen feet away now. What would Logan think, if he knew that Roman was throwing away the only possible solution he'd been able to come up with? What would Patton and Virgil do when they found out? How would they react when they found out that their friend was dead? The snake made a slow, circle around him, blocking all possible exits with its long, muscular body. Roman was left with a circle barely ten feet in diameter. His weapons were now pinned beneath a massive serpent.

It reared back its head.

* * * * * * * * * *

Virgil streaked through the neighborhood at top speed. Roman was going to let it kill him. He was going to give up just like that. Roman was going to die. Virgil had to do something, but what could he do? What chance did he have against a two-ton snake-demon whose magical prowess was far and above anything Virgil could ever dream of achieving? Close to none, that's what. He had, however, kept something set aside for emergencies. If anything, this counted as an emergency.

A wave of pain erupted behind his eyes, and he tripped, tumbling ears over tail down the sidewalk.

What's wrong, Virgil? You seem stressed, Ursula's voice crooned inside his mind.

Shut up, he thought back venomously, struggling to his feet. He swayed, stumbling down the street like he was high on catnip.

I hear it's getting cold in Wakeby. What a shame. You should join me in Bermuda, the weather's stunning.

She pressed harder, and Virgil gasped. The pain was blinding. She was half a world away, sure, but the connection between a witch and her familiar is purely magical. It transcends any physical distance.

She sighed, How's my prince doing? I know we've had our differences lately, but really. I'm only looking out for his well being. I want him alive and well just as much as you do.

I said shut up.

Ooh, your core's showing Virgil. Haven't see that in a few decades...

Virgil decided to ignore her and just focus on walking in a straight line. She continued taunting him all the way home, sending wave after wave of debilitating pain through his skull. Eventually, he dragged himself up the driveway and around the side of the house.

Arriving at their house, he pelted into the backyard, tripping over his own feet as he hastily transformed back into his human form. Hopefully, it was dark enough that no one had seen it happen. He could see some lights on inside. Logan was studying, probably. It was a miracle that Roman had managed to sneak in and out of the house every night without anyone else finding out. A sad miracle.

Virgil dropped to his knees near the base of a pine tree in the far corner of the backyard and dug into the dirt, flinging it out of the way with the desperation of someone trying to save their friend. Only a foot or so below the topsoil his now raw fingertips brushed something hard and smooth. His heart in his throat, Virgil dug around the sides and extracted it.

It was a tiny metal container about the size of an old woman's jewelry box.

With trembling hands, he undid the latch.

* * * * * * * * * *

"What are you doing, little prince?" the serpent inquired.

Roman blinked, surprised. Its voice sounded different. It wasn't the harsh, grating sound it usually was whenever they were fighting—though there typically wasn't much conversation during their nightly battles aside from cursing. It was smooth and soft and... almost human sounding. He looked at the serpent for a long moment before finally asking, "Do you have a name?"

"What?"

"A name. You have one, right?"

"...Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

The demon shifted in the grass. Everything inside Roman screamed at him to run. "Of course not. Do you know what someone could do with—"

"Roman Nicholas Kingsley. That's my legal name, anyway. Not sure if it counts as a 'true name' or anything, but I'm giving it to you, whatever its worth."

"You mortals are all such idiots," the demon growled. "Why?"

Roman swallowed. "Let's make a deal."

The snake, somehow, made an exasperated noise, "All right, little prince, but only because this is the first interesting thing that's happened to me in a long time." It lowered it's head so close to Roman, he could feel the air puffing out of its nostrils. His heart fluttered with bridled panic. A pure-black forked tongue shot out and wagged in front of Roman's face for a split second before retreating back inside the demon's maw.

"Tell me how to break this curse," Roman said carefully, fully aware of the foot-and-a-half long fangs that could impale him at any moment.

The demon was silent for a moment. "And what will I get in return for this information?"

"Whatever you want. I don't care."

"You don't know what you're agreeing to, little prince." The circle constricted, the creature's cold, smooth scales gliding across Roman's back. "I could have you live in solitude for the rest of your days. I could make you murder your friends and drink their blood. I could curse all of your children to hate you from the moment they were born. Are you prepared to make such a deal?"

Roman paled. He hadn't thought about it like that. Regardless, he wasn't in the best of positions to refuse the deal, now. The demon had him exactly where he wanted him, and could probably kill him in less time than it took to blink. Was he willing to risk living a life worse than death for the possibility of it maybe working out in his favor? The odds were... astronomical. But it was the only other option. Suddenly finding himself staring down the very real possibility of death, he didn't crave it as much as he'd thought. He wanted to stay, to see his friends fulfill their hopes and dreams, to find someone who loved him and have a family, to live.

He wanted to live.

"Decide quickly, little prince, before I lose my patience."

"I am," Roman blurted, glancing nervously at the demon's body, which was close to becoming uncomfortably tight around him. "I'm prepared to make the deal."

* * * * * * * * * *

Deary me, you seem quite upset, kitty, Ursula commented inside his mind. Virgil's heart might as well have frozen solid. He knelt motionless at the base of the tree, staring blankly at the empty metal box in his hands.

This can't be happening, he thought hopelessly. He felt Ursula's playful demeanor intensify.

What have you found, kitty?

He didn't respond. He couldn't wrap his mind around what he was seeing. Or rather, what he wasn't seeing. Had someone stolen it? But who? Ursula was halfway across the world right now, and there were protective runes around Wakeby. Even if she had managed to break through, she couldn't have gotten in without alerting Virgil first. No one else knew about the box... right? But Ursula sounded so confident and smug. She had to have something to do with it.

Where is it?

He could practically feel her mischievous grin through their mental connection. I'm sure I don't know what you—

"Where is it? What have you done with it?! GIVE IT BACK!!!" he wailed both aloud and in his mind. His voice was deep with overtones of something not quite human. Like Ursula had said, his core was showing. In that same second, a stab of icy hot agony tore through his mind, catching him completely off guard. He didn't stand a chance. Ursula entered and Virgil was immediately shoved to the back corner of his mind, unable to do much of anything aside from ram himself against the insurmountable mental barriers keeping him at bay. It was no use. He could feel his body immediately take on a different posture, its shoulders relaxing and its head cocking to the side curiously as it stared down at the empty box in its hands.

"Well, would you look at that," Ursula commented with Virgil's mouth, quirking it up into a smirk. "It seems you've got some hunting to do, kitty."

#tw panic attack #panic attack tw #panic attack #suicidal thoughts tw #tw suicidal thoughts #suicidal thoughts #tw graphic imagery #graphic imagery tw #graphic imagery #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #lamp pairing #LAMP #polyamory

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