#v is the epitome of smug

[umblrspectrum]

HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE H

[hana-no-seiiki]

a/n: first full genshin fic in tumblr let’s go.

we’ve had god readers but what about god complex reader who’s a smartass.

without further ado i present to you the flowers of evil au! (which i will actually explain more in another post but for now have this)

divider by omiyours!

no beta read we die like rukkhadevata’s god friends

summary: reader is basically wanderer but a slut

cw/tw: self indulgent, wish fulfillment, manipulative! reader, asshat/arrogant! reader, implied noncon (reader gets drunk), alhaitham being incredibly horny, alhaitham being a homewrecker, kaveh doesn’t have any self esteem, very snobby ass intellectualism, mary sue/gary stu reader.

pairings: yandere! al-haitham x spy! reader x yandere! kaveh x ? ? ?

“RED ROSES BURN MY EYES”

V O L U M E ( I )

[Y/N] [L/N] is the epitome of perfection. Even amongst the scholars that excelled in their fields, and the sages that basically ruled over the Akademiya. [Y/N] always managed to stand out.

Part of that is what attracted Al-Haitham. They were intelligent, and quick-witted. He found himself effortlessly engaging in conversation for hours when it came to their banters. Everything he was looking for in a partner — both in academics, romantic and sexual side of things — could be found in [Y/N].

But there were two things he had to consider.

The first thing was their awful(ly hot) god complex.

“Told you I’d be correct.” [Y/N] sat atop his desk. Their legs crossed, practically begging to be ripped apart as the scribe fantasized of bending them over the nth time that day.

Their intoxicatingly sweet yet mature scent — of roses and old books — wafted through the air and into his nostrils. It took all he had to not pin them on his table so that he could breathe it in. He wanted their scent to be permanently ingrained within his mind like the languages and manuscripts he’d memorized to heart.

But alas he had to at least maintain a modicum of sanity and control over his hormones. He replied, trying to edge away from their form, “You don’t have to rub it in my face, [L/N].”

But it was getting rather hard when they began leaning over “Fair is fair, Scribe. You get to gloat when you win, and I as well during the many triumphs I have over you. So, what are you supposed to say in this situation?”

“I was wrong to go against your judgement.”

You poke his nose. A mocking grin on your disgustingly pretty features, “I knew you had it in you.”

He could tolerate the first thing. In fact, he found it attractive at times. It’s what attracted him to the idea of dating them; owning them, the desire to rip that smug look on their face. To make their face contort to that of unfettered desire. To bring them down and off their high horse and instead kneeling — yearning for his touch, his lips, his cock.

The second thing was the fact that they were dating his roommate. That darned Kaveh.

“My love.” Al-Haitham could swear Kaveh smirked at him as the latter mouthed his petname for you.

“You’re late.”

“They’re sending me away for a project.”

“What?” Oh, [Y/N]’s concerned face however? Hurt even more. The palpable love between the couple made him want crush the book within his hands and throw its remains across the library. He’d tell you two to get a room if he didn’t want eyes on you 24/7.

“It’s just another construction. I’ll be back soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Al-Haitham couldn’t help but stare at your back while the two of you left him alone.

Was that a smile - no - a smirk on your features?

It was a mistake on your part. You should have known not to get drunk on enemy territory.

But your one success as a spy finally came. You had to celebrate somehow, right?

Wrong.

In your mistake in judgement you found yourself tangled with Al-Haitham of all people. How’d he even get drunk enough to sleep with you anyways? He couldn’t have purposely have sex with you, could he? All your interactions have been those of rivals and friends at most.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“We’re adults [L/N]. You don’t have to act like this.” Stop acting like this. Al-Haitham wanted to scream. He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed your presence so dearly. If only you could see the mess that had been his room and office.

“Exactly. Adults. I can make my own choices and I choose not to interact with you. I’m doing this for the sake of staying civil. For Kaveh.”

“I’ll tell him about your lord.” You paused.

No, you couldn’t have. Your [e/c] orbs slowly turned a velvet red while he continued his speech. Were you that careless? Were the words your co-workers used to describe you true?

That you were an absolutely useless, reckless piece of rot?

“The way you screamed his name while I—“

His? Ah, so he didn’t know their name. You probably just screamed My Lord and he automatically assumed…

He’s bluffing.

“Then go ahead.” You couldn’t help but grin knowing that you finally didn’t mess up in a mission. So what if he said those words to Kaveh, your mission to distract the Light of Kshahrewar had been a success. All you needed was to leave once everything had been finalized and your god had been reborn. “This may not be Focalors’s nation, but this sort of conduct could get you in jail, Scibe.”

“By who? Cyno hates me, sure. But if there’s one person he loathes more than me it’s you.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“No, [Y/N]. We’ll talk about this now.”

“Why are you so persistent—“

“Because I love you!”

Al-Haitham grabbed unto your face, squeezing so tightly you knew it’d bruise, “I think about you every single day, hour, minute — every damn second even. I can’t get a single paper fully transcribed because I always end up writing your name over and over again as if I’ll forget it any second.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t love me. No. That isn’t supposed to happen.”

“[L/N]. I know you’re a skeptic but doubting my feelings is—“

“You were never my target.”

Al-Haitham gasped as red petals enveloped his entire body.

“My lord. May you forgive this forsaken soul. Grant this servant a place beside your holy being as you ascend—“

His throat, his nose, even his eyes — all burnt under the heavy scent of roses.

“and accept this sacrifice.”

You looked at him solemnly. If only you weren’t so incompetent, he wouldn’t have been roped into this.

Your time with the roommates was fun while it lasted.

“Oh Lord of Flowers.”

[FOOTNOTE:]

In the end, [Y/N] could not kill him. It was always like this. Their missions always went wrong. It’s anyone guess really — why they haven’t been thrown away by their lord. They were defective at best. Completely useless at worst.

So they were commanded to be a honey trap. Someone made to lure in and distract an assigned target while the rest of the Zuhur, came in to assassinate and/or thieve around.

“Kaveh.” You greeted. Shit, you shouldn’t have gone back to his place to check for lose ends. Wasn’t he supposed to be away anyhow? What was he doing in the Akademiya?

“Where are you going?”

“I—I’m leaving.” You had recently finished drugging Al-Haitham and sending him to the sages to deal with. Time was ticking, and you had to be there for when your new master breathes his first as a brand new god. “to get some samples for research. Meet up with the Forest Rangers and all that.”

“Does lying to me get you off or something?” Kaveh stopped you in your tracks, he didn’t have to hold you still, the hurt in his voice was enough.“I know about it. About your affair with Haitham.”

“Then—“

“And I’m fine with it.”

“What?”

“You- You can meet up with him all you like. I already knew someone like me couldn’t possibly satisfy a being such as you.”

“Just don’t leave me ever. Please?”

“Kaveh . . .”

“I promise to never get between you guys. I swear I-I’m not jealous at all. You deserve to receive all the love you can get.”

“Kaveh!” You cried. Who was this person? The Kaveh you knew was loud and boisterous. In fact, you used him and Al-Haitham as a basis to create [Y/N]. The prodigy of the Akademiya.

Who was this weak, broken person that trembled in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, alright? Not the other way around.”

“What…?”

“Stay safe and get as far away as you can from the Grand Sage in the next few weeks alright?” You continued your journey away, only stopping to say a few words, “I love you. Truly.”

“If you love me, why would leave me?!”

“I have to.” You clenched your hands, and disappeared.

“(Wardati) وردتي … “

TRANSLATIONS:

flowers = zuhur

وردتي = my rose

[bubblyani]

Bloom

(Rick x Reader)

A Rick (Knight of Cups) One Shot

Movie: Knight of Cups (2015) Terrence Malick

Summary: When he pays a visit one fine morning, you realize the immense effect Rick has on your mind, body and soul. 

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: Mature

Warning: Sexual Content

Author’s Note: Rick was a visual treat in this movie, thanks to Christian Bale. And thirsting for this character led to another One Shot. Tried to give the writing an aesthetic feeling more than last time. A tribute to Terrence Malick’s style, I suppose. Did my best. But also with some added fan girl frustration *wink* Enjoy y’all!

You’re regretting it now, aren’t you? Coming to see me?

Your heart was aware of your smug query. A sense of smug, that stemmed from the confidence of your words. A sense of smug, that unfortunately was stained by an obvious sadness. The type of stain that refused to be rinsed off. An obvious sadness, for you meant every word.

With your knees locked in an embrace, there you sat on the edge of the bed. Your eyes succeeded in finally freeing themselves from the tempting grasps of the polished wooden floors. They moved up in slow motion, to fill oneself by the breathtaking sight of him. Leaning against the Bedroom door, Rick gently shook his head in a mild manner. As if a frantic response was nearly impossible. And truthfully, that would not have suited him:

I couldn’t stop.

Raising one’s eyebrows, you felt your head tilt to the side:

Stop what?

You swore your eyes were expert enough to trace a soft smile form in that angelic face of his:

Thinking about you.

His words so breathless, tickled your ears long enough, that butterflies began to flutter within you. So breathless, you despised the mere thought of losing them to the wind. His gaze managed to pierce through the distance, resulting in the subtle blushes of your cheeks. Simply put, You were gluttonous for his words. More important, you were gluttonous for him.

However, never did you display it. How could you, when imaginative dark clouds of despair reigned over you with such weight?

Shaking your head, you smiled bowing it down:

Heh…you’re crazy.

Your pointed feet reached the floor with control and grace, feeling the chill in the morning greet your skin. And the very moment you did, the floor urged him to take careful steps towards you. Barefoot and quiet:

Maybe I am…for you

Goosebumps resulted in your skin, and you blamed his seductive poetic soul. Keeping one’s head down, your eyes stealthily watched him approach you. With your pulse quickening all of the sudden, you were tempted to conceal it all. Conceal those lines in your face that nature had bestowed upon you. Conceal the skin your mother had gifted you. Conceal the imperfection that you yourself had stowed away with such expertise, from the entire world. Undoubtedly, the flame of insecurity was certainly strong and burning bright at that very moment.

Until it was extinguished, by the his mere touch.

Shaky breaths exited your lips as his hand rested on your head, his long fingers digging into your hair with the sole intention of intimacy with your scalp. Your eyelids fluttered frantically, for you were intoxicated, you were spellbound. The manner in which his fingers  made contact with your scalp, some would even wonder if they were lovers in secret. For his fingers, they treated it as if it was the most precious, awakening your entire body in every possible manner. Gathering courage, you looked up to find the man who rejuvenated your senses.

With his beautiful, chiseled frame adorned with a long sleeved black v-neck top and pants, Rick was nothing short of a refreshed, visual pleasure. While the satin negligee still lingered in your frame, with messy bed hair and smudged eyeliner as the shameful accompanists. Empty bottles of wine and spilled bottles of pills occupied the bedside cupboard. Already 11 in the morning, and you were nothing short of a mess.

This…this is me. This is who I really am.

Your eyes enunciated every word, gazing directly into his very own. Truth was inevitable to escape your soul, when you were staring at divinity. The sunlight streamed through the white curtains, illuminating his frame, for he was a god. A deity who descended into earth, robbing himself of time, just for you: A withered flower.

You never hid that.

Rick’s eyes shone, warm as the sunlight on a winter’s morn.

Never with me.

And before you could protest, a gust of wind swept you away. The wind that were his loving arms, pulling you up with ease. Permitting your body to press against his, you felt his lips unite yours in a gentle kiss.

You first ever knew of Rick’s existence not too long ago. More specifically when your eyes met from across the room, at a party one Summer’s Eve. And it certainly did not seem like sweet coincidence, especially in the comfort of a Billionaire’s Mansion in Los Angeles. Truthfully, it would seem eventual, for all knew all in entertainment. As the distance between the two of you grew smaller, his curiosity was made well known to you. A curiosity, which was satisfied the very moment an onlooker of a musician hurriedly played your latest music video on his phone, posing the question to Rick with disbelief:

“Don’t you know who she is?”

“Dude, Rick’s a legend. Doesn’t she know who HE is?”

In all fairness, a smile could have graced your lips upon glancing at this handsome stranger, in the midst of the queries from the onlookers around. You could have acknowledged the dilation of his pupils, by showing him your very own. You could have made very clear of your own growing curiosity about him. But you did not. For you were weary, in mind, body and soul.

Live Shows, Recordings, Photo shoots and Press Junkets. In the midst of them all, you were just a name, a mere symbol of profit milked by all those around you. Blinded by power, it seemed none of them were aware of the husk they leave behind when the day was done. The husk of a young woman, left to mend herself back in her lonesome. The young woman swept away by the tornado of fame with such speed, she lost her sense of purpose that existed in the very beginning.

Until his curious kiss that night, urged you to engage in a rediscovery.

You never hid that. Never with me

He was right. With him, you were always yourself: unapologetically. Without question.

His kisses were consistent. They were the sips of water the dry throat craved for days. His lips were the hands that held on to you with care, guiding you sensually to form your own Rumba. And this morning, with the sunlight streaming over your own head, and with your hands wrapped around his neck, you were bestowed with a rush of pure exuberance. In simpler terms, you were alive.

Possessed with life, your movements suddenly were the epitome of energy and speed. You pushed him away, giggles causing your voice to crack as you leaped to the bed. And for Rick, it was simply an invitation to join you in a game of catch. A game that will be won without hesitation. And he did, gripping you by the ankle, only to pull you back to him as you fell on the mattress. Squeals vanished the moment you found his figure hovering over, leaving you breathless. And all the sudden, exuberance morphed into tranquility, for you were transfixed, hypnotized. For he was responsible.

With the blink of an eye, you found his face inches away from yours. When breathing were finally in syncopation, the world seemed to stand still. The soft brunette hair that framed his face, dared to tickle your cheeks as his lips were drawn in to yours with a magnetic force. However, he defied nature’s law, by pulling away in tease. Just when they were millimeters close. Frustration was evident in your stomach, that your eyes began to display it without a shred of embarrassment.

But he caught you by surprise, as his accentuated nose brushed against your forehead.

You’re beautiful.

Shivers managed to appear, for those words never failed to move you. Taking the role of painter, he moved downwards in sweet torture, awakening every inch of your face: Your closed eyelids, your own nose, your burning cheeks, and under appreciated chin. Your lips yet, were discriminated.

Parting them with frustration, you stared at the ceiling with desperation as his torture continued south. Shaky breaths were incited, when his nose made contact with your bare neck. Even more so when he mindlessly painted your body with desire, crossing the borders through the collarbone.

Butterflies fluttered as the tip of his nose made strategic, temporary stops over your mountainous geography. Two erect peaks formed through the satin plains on either sides once he wandered over your heaving bosom with leisure. Nether muscles tightened, resulting in moans of the softest nature. Throwing your head back, you winced and gasped when he pulled your negligee up, permitting his brush to paint over the exposed stomach. If your body was awakened before, now it was slowly being lit up in flames. A slow burn, to be precise.

You’re intoxicating

Moans grew loud and unabashed, when he had the audacity to reach down your thighs.

I want you.

Putting his brush of a nose aside, he began to play Aesthete. And it was evident he did, the moment his lips attacked your inner thighs with gentle kisses.

Mine.

Leaving your thighs burning, he kept his gaze affixed while his fingers urged your lace panties to part from your legs, opening the door that deemed most secretive. His intentions were made aware. And feeling the growth under his pants with your foot, you could not help but agree. Especially when your legs locked around his waist in a hurry. However, you were surprised even further when he switched positions in a heartbeat, allowing you to straddle him in return.

All of you. All mine.

His eyes, they burned. His words, they haunted. His hands, they were impatient. Not to undress himself, but to hold onto your own hands instead. Pulse quickening, your mind was full of queries as he pulled you closer.

And closer, past his stomach. And closer, past his chest.

The very moment he gave a final tug, realization washed over you. For you knew how exactly Rick, the wanderer, the observer, the adventurer wanted you. Right to the exact detail. Licking ones lips, you shuddered as you lifted yourself up:

Then want me. Please.

Your plea was sudden, desperate, yet there were no regrets. Desirous need was all that was filled in you, when you sank yourself low, when you sank yourself slow, to have his ethereal face welcome the region right between your quivering thighs. To have his hungry lips finally taste the mere essence of your being.

You gasped, out loud. The simplest brush of his lips, his facial hair were simply triggers, akin to a centralized button that set off a theme park a lit. And like in a theme park, you were on a ride of a lifetime.

Want me, like you never wanted anyone.

Keeping your balance with your knees firmly rooted on the soft white sheets, you rolled your hips. You rolled them in steady rhythm. Back and forth. All the while you felt his nose rub against your moist opening, and while his generous mouth proved his hunger for you. And he was not the one to waste any time.

Want me, as if your life depended on it.

You rolled, you rode. Holding on to your own hair, you were possessed with such greed, you knew you would go mad. Mad with ecstasy. For his lips were divine. His kisses translated to hunger in abundance. His tongue, did not fail to fall behind. If his nose played the artist, then his tongue played the writer, versatile enough to weave his own love notes in poetic form in the inner most intimate centre of your glorious body. His words roused you, till your moans were melodic and repetitive.

Want me, as if you love me.

With your pleas, your arms extended involuntarily. A shadow, caught your attention, as your eyes moved towards the bedside. It appeared so flexible, so lively. It was yours. As you kept glancing at it writhing in pleasure, in the midst of your moans and his, the realization was clear as the morning itself. No sign of exhaustion, nor any sign of hopelessness. A smile was all your face could provide you, and empowerment was all your heart could afford.

The withering in you had vanished. Your heart had no trace. For Rick, he was the sunshine, and hydration incarnate. For he was the nourishment. Your nourishment. And thus you, a once withered flower, now finally bloomed in full.

——————————————————

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[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 18: Bodyguard

When Logan signed up to be the bodyguard of a wealthy (and questionable) man’s son, he thought it would be an easy job. Just sit in the background and make sure the kid doesn’t get killed. He didn’t expect the kid to be his age. Or flirty. Or dating his ex. Logan POV, eventual Analogince with parental Moxiety

Day 17 | Masterlist | Day 19

Logan sighed as he twirled the ballpoint pen between his fingers. He was sitting in the middle of a cafe, filling out a crossword puzzle. He took a sip of his chamomile tea and bit back a grimace. It was exceedingly bitter; the coffee shop he normally went to served much better drinks. But he wasn’t here because of the drinks. He briefly looked up from his crossword to quietly observe the real reason he was here. On the other side of the cafe, scrolling through his phone while he sipped on an iced coffee, sat Virgil Tempest Sanders, son of Patton Sanders and heir of Sanders Financing.

Logan thought back to everything leading up to this moment. Before this, Logan was commonly hired to take out corrupt politicians and gang leaders. So when he got a call from Patton Sanders to be a bodyguard, he was shocked to say the least. Patton Sanders was seen as the epitome of goodwill; he frequently donated to charity, has never spoken ill will towards anyone, and always had a smile on his face. So it was extremely odd for him to contact an assassin who was frequently hired by much more sinister individuals. But apparently Logan’s skills impressed Mr. Sanders enough to provide Logan a more permanent (and well-paying) job.

The job was simple: shadow his son any time he was out of the house. Virgil was kept on an extremely short leash after he was ‘kidnapped’ 5 years ago. He was only gone for a few months, but it was enough to essentially put him on house arrest. Virgil was only allowed to be out of the house between 10 AM and 5 PM. Mr. Sanders paid Logan to watch Virgil during these hours. When Logan had first learned about the job, he’d nearly scoffed in disbelief. He didn’t want to be babysitting a child! But after hearing about what wages he’d earn, Logan quickly changed his tune.

It was also shocking to learn that Logan actually wasn’t babysitting a child. Virgil was 23 years old; shockingly close to Logan’s own age. The age surprised him for several reasons. First of all, why was Virgil kept on such a short leash at 23 years old? Sure, he was kidnapped for a few months (which Logan doubted was an actual kidnapping. It was more likely that Virgil ran away) but that still didn’t warrant such restrictions for an adult. Second of all, Virgil still looked like a teenager. He had an extremely youthful face, with large brown eyes hidden beneath an oversized purple hoodie. He was actually quite attractive, almost as attractive as-

Logan figuratively shook the thought away, attempting to focus on the crossword puzzle. There were a few words that he was stuck on, but he was most likely going to stay here for a while. One of the perks to this job was that Virgil only tended to go to four places: this cafe, the local library, a small music store on the other side of town, and the local park. Still, Logan had been following this pattern with Virgil for the past two months. A small part of Logan, the part that smiled slightly when he managed to shoot someone directly between the eyes, wished that something would happen to spice things up-

“Amir.”

Logan looked up and was surprised to see Virgil leaning over his shoulder, staring at the crossword puzzle. “What?”

Virgil smirked. “‘First name that can mean ‘prince.’’” He took the ballpoint pen from Logan’s hand, which he had been lightly nibbling on. Logan bit back a gasp as Virgil deliberately ran the pen against Logan’s bottom lip before using it to write ‘AMIR’ on the crossword.

Logan examined the paper and was surprised to see that it was the correct answer. He blushed as he turned back to Virgil, who had a smug look in his eyes. “Th-Thank you, Mr…?”

Virgil smiled, settling down in the seat across from Logan. “Call me Tempest. And you are?”

Logan smiled at the use of Virgil’s last name. He felt like he should at least reciprocate. “Adstrum.”

Virgil smirked. “Glory. Immortality.” He gives Logan a once-over before practically purring. “Divinity.”

Logan blushed at the implications. “I’m sure my parents meant ‘star’ when they named me.”

Virgil laughed before his expression darkened. “So, how much is he paying you?”

Logan put on a faux-innocent expression, but on the inside it felt like his blood had turned to ice. Mr. Sanders specifically said that Virgil couldn’t know about Logan unless absolutely necessary. Logan thought he’d been subtle and inconspicuous. “Who is paying me, exactly?”

Virgil sighed. “My father. Look, you almost fooled me at first. If I wasn’t always watching my back, you would’ve fooled me. But nobody ever visits this cafe because their coffee’s shit.” He gestured to Logan’s tea. “And I’m guessing the tea is too judging by how much you face screws up when you drink it. You could’ve been just a regular customer, but I’ve seen you at the library and the park, and I don’t doubt that you were at the record store too. And the people around here get really gossipy, so I knew that you were only here on the days that I showed up.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “So I’ll ask again: how much is he paying you?”

Logan looked him in the eye before sighing. “Too much to say no.” He carefully folded up his crossword puzzle. “Though I’m quite uncertain as to why this job exists in the first place. You obviously have no intention on running away again-”

“Running away?” Logan looked up to see Virgil confused and slightly angry. But Logan had dealt with enough people to see the acting for what it really was. “I was kidnapped and held against my will!”

Logan scoffed. “Kidnapped?” He straightened his tie as he spoke. “You disappeared in the middle of the night from a building whose security rivals the White House. There was no sign of struggle, nor was there a ransom note. Either your kidnapper was an extremely intelligent individual who wanted more than just money from Mr. Sanders, or you left on your own free will. And judging by my observations and personal experience, I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

Virgil stared for another moment before laughing. “Well, would you look at that! You’ve got a brain to match your bark. And I assume you bite, too. Because there’s no way you’re some random civilian. So, what’s your real job?”

Logan coughed. “I must admit, I’m not used to having my job description be, ‘keep client alive. ’”

Virgil blinked, and Logan suddenly felt like he’d said something wrong. “You stressed the word alive. ” Now it was Logan’s turn to blink. “You wouldn’t need to stress it unless there was something specific about keeping them alive.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Are you an assassin?!”

Logan blushed. “Essentially. But now I am your bodyguard.”

Virgil vibrated in his seat. “How many people have you killed? Do you usually kill good people or bad people? Or does it only depend on the money? I wouldn’t blame you for that. The economy sucks.”

Logan chuckled. “I mainly target corrupt politicians and gang leaders. I turn down any jobs that involve families or children.”

Virgil mouthed the words ‘corrupt politicians and gang leaders’ before gasping. “Do you know Logan Croft?”

Logan blinked. “How do you know that name?”

Virgil gasped again, stars in his eyes. “Are you Logan Croft?” Logan decided to nod his head. Virgil already knew about his job, and his father was paying Logan. It wouldn’t hurt to give out his name, just this once. “Oh my gosh, you’re the guy who killed Jacob Smith four years ago! How did you do it? They say he was impenetrable behind his gang and-” Suddenly his phone ringed. “One moment, please.” He pressed the phone up to his ear, and Logan could hear his boss’ muffled voice on the other end, though he couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m at a cafe. Yeah, I can come home for lunch. See you then. Bye.” He turned back to Logan with a grimace. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Maybe we can have a full conversation next time?”

Logan nodded. “I ask that you don’t tell Mr. Sanders about our conversation, or that you know about having a bodyguard. I’m afraid he might fire me if you do.” Or expose me to the world.

Virgil nodded. “Of course!” He stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, you know where I am… see ya, bye!” And with that, Virgil walked out of the cafe. Logan waited a few minutes before following. It was just to make sure that Virgil got home safe. It was part of his job, after all. It wasn’t because he found Virgil interesting and funny and cute-

Logan frowned, shaking away the thought. He would not get attached to Virgil. It would only serve as a cruel reminder of Roman. Roman and Logan had met in middle school and dated for several years. But Roman had fallen in love with another man a few years ago. And while Logan is polyamorous, it was dangerous enough to be attached to one civilian. So, they broke up on friendly terms. Logan had never felt so… empty, after leaving Roman. It had felt like Roman had taken Logan’s ability to be happy. Logan hadn’t fully smiled or laughed since their breakup…

Except for today, when he’d talked to Virgil. Virgil reminded Logan of Roman. He was charismatic, sarcastic, and funny. And with every butterfly that formed in Logan’s belly, a new knife stabbed him through the heart. Being with Virgil would only remind Logan of what he could no longer have with Roman. So, Logan would keep his distance (even if he could no longer do so literally).

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

When Virgil got home that day, he had a brief lunch with his father before retreating to his room for the day. Once he got there, he immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting his boyfriend.

V- (3:05 PM) Hey, your ex’s name was Logan Adsrum Croft, wasn’t it?

R- (3:06 PM) Yeah, why?

V- (3:06 PM) Guess who my hot new bodyguard is ;)

[crazygalore]

FRANK SLADE ( SCENT OF A WOMAN 1992 ) NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

For Frank it’s a dream come true to have met someone who loves and accepts him for who he is, so he would treat you like royalty both inside and outside the bedroom. So, as far as aftercare goes, he will do everything in his power to make you feel relaxed and comfortable after sex. He will hold you tenderly in his arms, kiss the top of your head and whisper sweet nothings in your hair. If you are too exhausted to move, he will bring you whatever you need and help you clean up before going to sleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, it’s probably his hands, simply because he can use them to hold you, caress you and please you to his heart’s content. On you, it’s everything - like, seriously, it would be unfair to ask him to pick just ONE part of you that he adores, because you are his world and he loves all of you just as you are. In fact, you are the epitome of perfection in his book.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Frank’s an old school gentleman, so he prefers finishing deep inside of you, or inside your mouth, if you are going down on him. He is not the type of guy who would mark you with his seed, because he finds such behaviour distasteful, especially when it comes to doing it to the person he holds most dear in this whole wide world.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As evidenced in the movie, Frank has a very keen sense of smell, so he can pretty much tell when you are aroused, because your scent changes ever so slightly. The musky fragrance of your arousal, coupled with the aroma of your perfume of choice are his aphrodisiac of choice. He doesn’t always let on that he knows when you’re horny, prefering to tease you instead, until you are practically mad with desire. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

This handsome, charming and charismatic guy has had his fair share of partners, although most of them were one-night-stands or casual lovers. He is very experienced, and he puts that experience to good use in your relationship. He seems to know exactly where and how to touch you to make you moan and scream his name during sex, and he can be very (rightfully ) smug about it sometimes.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Although he’s tried everything under the sun by now, Frank prefers the very vanilla missionary position, for the simple fact that he likes being able to hold you close in his arms as he fucks into you. Having your arms and your legs wrapped around him, and your lips tasting his skin and moaning in against his ear, is heaven for him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It depends on the mood. He can be serious and passionate or goofy and playful.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

The man’s been in the army, so he is very particular about the cleanliness of his home, as well as his personal hygiene. He doesn’t shave down there, but he trims regularly.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Frank is a very intimate and romantic partner. For him, making love to you is all about showing you how much he adores and respects you, so he is very focused on your comfort and pleasure during sex. You are his religion, and he uses his body to worship you 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Despite his promiscuous nature, he never used to do it that often. And ever since you came into his life, he sees no reason for it, because he has you to make love to.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Edging you until you are a sweaty, trembling, moaning and mumbling mess under him masterful ministrations. He is a very skilled dirty talker, and he loves it when you return the gesture. Other than that, he loves the musky scent of your skin after the two of you have made love, especially when it mingles with the fragrance of your perfume ( not sure if that counts as a kink, though ). He can be persuaded to participate in light bondage, but he would never engage in impact play and name calling with you - since his former profession was a dangerous and sometimes violent one, and therefore he would never bring any form of physical aggressivity to the bedroom.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The intimacy of your home, or your hotel room, if you guys are travelling. Despite the appearances, he is not an exhibitionist at all.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Um...honestly what doesn’t get him going ??? As long as you’re on board, he can and will fuck you anytime of the day, all day, every day.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As I said, any form of hardcore BDSM. Name calling, humiliation and anything that might otherwise hurt you ( or him ). Gun play, knife play, choking, impact play....these are big no-no’s for him. No matter how much you plead with him, the best he can do it move a little harder, or manhandle you a bit - but that’s the best he can do.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Although he LOVES receiving, he is actually much more into giving. For him, there is nothing quite like being able to smell and taste your arousal, while he firmly holds your quivering thighs parted, and your fingers are desperately pulling at his hair. Your moans and pleas are always rewarded with a flick of his tongue against your most sensitive spot.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Frank usually goes for a passionate, slow but hard pace, although he can and will go faster and rougher if you ask him to.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He is not one to complain about a quick hard fuck, but he would rather take his sweet time when making love to you. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Oh, he is game for trying anything within his boundaries. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

This guy could relentlessly fuck you from dusk till dawn when he is feeling particularly randy - and he never allows himself to cum before you do, no matter how long that might take.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t have that much experience with toys, he’d be down to experiment with them, if that’s something you’re into. Fair warning though, 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The biggest, unfairest tease you’ve ever had the (mis)fortune to fuck. He will caress and toy with your body until you can’t take it anymore, and then he will do it some more for good measure.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Frank’s a pretty quiet lover, save for a few low grunts and moans here and there - and the sweet and dirty things he constantly whispers in your ear as he thoroughly fucks you into the mattress.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

His signature scent is Guerlain’s Vetiver, and there is nothing quite like burying your nose into his neck as he makes love to you, and being greeted by the masculine and elegant notes of this fragrance, mixed in with his natural scent. What makes it even better is that Frank’s neck is particularly sensitive, and it drives him crazy when you nuzzle or kiss him there.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Long and thick enough to stretch and fill you up in the most enjoyable ways. He is the perfect size and fit for you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very fucking high - although he can go forever without sex if you are not feeling up to it for one reason or another. He is not the type to pressure you into having sex with him either - as your consent, pleasure and comfort are very important to him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depending on his overall mood and the intensity of your lovemaking, he could either fall sleep right away, or stay awake a little while longer and enjoy the feeling of your slumbering form plastered to his side.

[foolishlovebugbaby]

skz’s reaction to their s/o having plump lips

requested by @0leelina0​! thanks for sending this in, i felt so giddy writing it ehe i hope you like it!

side note: i don’t know what to do with myself anymore i-

bang chan

i feel like he’d absolutely love his s/o having plump lips

like at first he wouldn’t pay attention to your lips much (because let’s face it, he’d be too infatuated with the entirety of your face to just focus on your lips)

but the more you both got to know each other, the more he’d find himself staring at your lips whenever you spoke

he just loves watching them move 

and it makes him absolutely weak in the knees whenever you kiss him on the cheek or just anywhere on his skin

and don’t get me started on how much he’d love to kiss them

he swears up and down he could makeout with you for an entire day

and he always tries to do so

“No, just a few more minutes,” He’d mumble against your lips as you attempted to pull away.

“Channie, I literally cannot breathe anymore.” You let out an airy laugh and he leaves a soft peck on your lips.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Nsfw: he’s definitely into the whole lip-biting thing 

and you giving him neck kisses is his biggest turn on omygod

lee know

minho knows that he’s got the prettiest lips on planet earth

but when he met you, he realised that although he may have the best lips on earth, you’ve got the best lips in the entire universe

a hard fact to accept, but my guy was too whipped for you to let it get to him

he’d absolutely love taking kissy face selfies with you 

you both would make kissy faces at each other so often that it became second nature rather than an inside joke lmao

the first time you kissed his cheek, he swore he had died and gone to heaven and that an angel kissed him to wake him up

but then a cheek kiss turned into a lip one and there was no going back

he’d be obsessed with leaving lingering kisses on your lips, very slow and intimate yet firm

and sometimes he’d prefer it that way over intense, passionate ones

sometimes

because let me tell you, this man is k i n k y

Nsfw: definitely a lip biter like chan, and he’d savour each and every moment of your lips on his skin

“My lips are ten times bigger now than when we first started,” you chuckle in disbelief at your swollen lips

“Oopsies.” Minho says as he hugs you from the back, a smug and cheeky eye smile plastered all over his face.

changbin

your lips are definitely the first thing he notices when he meets you

he can’t help but stare; they’re so eye catching and pretty and god, his mind already wonders what it would be like to kiss them

just like himself, you have a habit of licking and biting your lips 

whether it be out of nervousness or pure habit

but he finds it so endearing and attractive that he finds himself mimicking your actions every time you do so

he finds it incredibly sexy whenever you bite your lips

like, heart-stoppingly sexy

and he loves to run his thumb over your bottom lip whenever your face is in his hands

and leaving random, quick pecks on them whenever he has the chance

“We’re in public silly,” You jokingly scold him as he wraps his arms around your waist and peppers your lips with feathery kisses.

“I can’t help it, you’re too addicting.”

but when you two are alone, it’s a whole other story

Nsfw: he l o v e s to suck on your bottom lip when you both are making out

like, just the feeling of your lip between his all soft and plump makes his blood rush in ways that words can’t even describe

and running his tongue over your bottom lip makes him all woozy and delirious ugh

case in point: every makeout session is a steamy one.

hyunjin

hyunjin met his match the moment he laid eyes on your lips

like, he still can’t believe that someone could rival his full lips

but alas

even when you two started dating, he still remained humorously competitive about it

he’d go around asking his members which one of you had the better lips in the relationship

and everyone found it absolutely hilarious that he still wouldn’t let it go

being the weirdo he is, he has tons of photos of your lips in his camera roll

he tries to justify it by saying they’re for comparison when he makes other people choose who’s is better, but the reality is he just loves to stare at them when he misses you

what a sweet weirdo

“I got the most votes this time, pay up.” Hyunjin says smugly, puckering his lips for a victory kiss and you roll your eyes at his foolishness.

“I’m winning next time though,” You say and kiss him tenderly.

“I really don’t mind if the price to pay is kissing you.” He says sweetly when you pull away.

Nsfw: he seems like the kinky type, but i actually see him as more of a sweet, tender kisser rather than an intense one

intimate, long kisses just gets him going man what can i do

han

han loves to stare at your lips when you talk

he just finds them so captivating that it puts him in a trance

at first you thought he found your lips weird because his eyes were always trained on them

but then he revealed that it was only because he was smitten with the way you smiled and moved your lips

the amount of lyrics he’s written about your lips and how magical they are alone is either alarming or charming, but you’re not complaining

often times when you both are cuddling and just enjoying each others’ presence, he’d trace his finger around the contours of your lips 

he finds everything about the way they’re shaped perfect and complimentary to the rest of your features, and he doesn’t keep his thoughts to himself

mans so whipped i love him

Nsfw: like changbin, he loves to suck on your bottom lip and tug on it playfully

especially when he’s ~in the mood~

but he also really enjoys long and firm kisses, minus all the tongue and antics because he just wants to pour all of his love for you into each kiss 

“You drive me insane, you know that?” Han says with half-lidded eyes as you both pull away to catch your breaths.

“Does this mean i have better lips than Minho?” You say playfully.

“Oh shut up and kiss me you dork.”

felix

felix is just so sweet and precious that he’d be fixated on every single feature of yours 

one week he’d focus on complimenting your eyes

the next your nose

but when he reached your lips???

he would not be able to shut up about them

he’d find them sosososos charming and would try and force you to make kissy faces at him just so that he can swiftly go to peck them and catch you by surprise

such a cheeky boi

he’d find kissing you so comforting and warm and just the epitome of tenderness, it makes him feel so calm and sound

“Each kiss feels just like the first.” He said just above a whisper against your lips.

“That’s funny, this is like the billionth kiss of the week.” You chuckle and he laughs only to bring you back in for another.

Nsfw: i’m here to retract all soft uwu’s because lee felix, 5 minutes into a makeout, can and will turn into an absolute beast

he’d be soooo into lip biting and just playing with your mouth with his own 

and he’d be so passionate each time and ahodhofh i’m sorry i dont make the rules

seungmin

ohmygosh my sweet baby

he’s so precious that he would blush every time you’d catch him staring at your lips

even when you both started dating he’d still get all shy and red whenever you’d leave a kiss on his cheek or forehead or eyelids

but he absolutely loves it when you do so

he’s a sucker for affection, and your plump lips kissing all over his face would just make all the love feel even more amplified

he loves giving you short, sweet pecks out of the blue and seeing you blush sweetly whenever he does so makes him all giddy

and he’s always finding excuses to kiss you

“You’ve got some ice cream right,” He leans in close to your lips, “Here.” In a second his lips are on yours, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and your whole face flushes. 

“You could’ve just used a tissue.”

“Our climate is collapsing and you want to waste tissue? Could never be me.”

Nsfw: yall hear sumn?

i.n

he’s literally still in the womb what do i say

our sweet baby would not know what to do with himself when he starts being infatuated with you, let alone when he realises how charming your features are

he’d be so giddy and giggly around you

fooling around, squishing your lips between his fingers

and whenever your kiss him on the cheek, he would need an entire 10 minutes just to recover from it

don’t even get me started on a first kiss

like he’d honestly think he could die happy with the feeling of your pillowy lips on his

he’d be so gentle and happy with you and would always leave feathery kisses around your lips and on your cheeks 

“S-stop, that tickles Jeongin,” You giggle while he peppers kisses around the corners of your mouth and on your jaw. 

“Whoops,” He says cheekily and leaves a chaste kiss on your lips.

Nsfw: page does not exist

woojin

woojin would be such a gentleman that he’d remind you everyday of how beautiful every part of you is

your lips were never an insecurity but they weren’t your favorite feature either

but that all changed when woojin showed you so much tender love and care

he’s such a sweetheart man

he’d love to help you put on lipliner and lipstick just for fun because it ‘reminds me of art class’

“Kim Woojin, you overdrew my lips too much and now I look like a clown!” You scold him, red lipliner smudged all around your chin as you attempted to wipe it off.

“Well I think you look cute.” He says matter-of-factly, grabs your face and kisses you sweetly.

Whenever you’d fall asleep on his lap he’d leave tender kisses on our lips and just admire every inch of your face 

im cryin i miss him

Nsfw: when mans is in the mood, mans is in the mood

kissing is his favorite form of foreplay hands down and would be so passionate and sometimes rough 

but hey ain’t nobody complainin bout that

[entamewitchlulu]

Arc V Month Day 20: Favorite Antagonists

ohohoho....man is there an antag I don’t like at all in this show?  Nearly every one of the main baddies are just so fun to hate, and even more fun to analyze.  So lemme talk about each of the main ones just briefly

God just look at his stupid face i love him!!!

Yuuri is just.  The whole package.  He’s the epitome of my guilty pleasure fave type of villain: the type who’s just gleefully evil, who legitimately knows they’re the bad guy and revels in it, and also talks very politely while doing so (I have a very specific Type when it comes to villains lol).  Not a very realistic villain, to be sure, but oh so fun to watch in action.  He’s got the gleeful malice, the truly frightening cruelty, a wild sort of destructive fervor, and is such a manipulative tease to boot.  Plus, he’s such a meme.  I love him.

Beyond that though, though little to nothing is confirmed in canon, I find how he ended up the way he is very, very interesting.  Knowing that he and the boys are all the exact same person brings up some great questions on the nature-nuture discussion, and if they all had the same base nature, how did Yuuri’s nurture (or lack thereof) cause him to end up being so vastly different a person from his other counterparts?  Considering who was in charge of caring for him (whom we’ll def talk about later...), and Leo’s absolute hatred for Zarc, it’s obvious that some very, very awful things occurred to make Yuuri the way he is, and likely, most of his actions and personality are all very elaborate coping mechanisms -- not that he himself would ever admit to that being the case.  If you asked him, I’m sure he’d tell you everything he does is absolutely his own choice because he wants to be so terrible -- which is just as true as the fact that likely, not all of his choices were his own.

Of course we can’t talk about Yuuri, or about antags in general, without talking about Zarc.  I know he’s the ultimate big bad so I should probably save him for last, but I have other things I want to talk about so we’re just gonna hit up Zarc rn lol.  

What I love about Zarc (and honestly, what I love about most Arc V villains) is just how human his motivations are.  Like, he didn’t get possessed.  He didn’t get influenced by an eldritch god, or tainted by some wild magic that made him go mad.  He was just a mostly ordinary person, who, like Yuya, wanted to become someone.  He wanted to meet the expectations of the crowd -- and without anyone else to be at his side to help him process his emotions, he simply continued and continued down the path, seeking more and more validation even as the lengths he had to go to to achieve that destroyed him and his dragons, until he broke.

I can’t confirm it, obviously, but I’m of the opinion that most of Zarc’s evil schtick was just a mask -- both for his opponents, and for himself.  He’d been driven so far to the brink, so far away from the person he’d wanted to be, that he just let himself fall into a role so deeply that even he was fooled, when the truth was that he was terrified.  He was always terrified.  And that’s why Yuya’s arc accepting himself as Zarc and choosing to heal was so important, and so powerful.  

Zarc wasn’t a villain just for the hell of it.  He was a monster created by society.  And in the end, he was more tragic than villainous.

I can’t get out of an antagonist post without talking about this smug bastard.  I’ve talked about him a LOT (actually, I’ve talked about all of these guys a lot lol), but honestly? As much as I say I hate him, he’s just so deliciously evil that I can’t really, lol.  As a villain, he’s everything the arc needed -- a vicious manipulator who thought he was superior to everything and beyond the machinations of anyone else, until he slowly deteriorated as he realized his flawless plans weren’t so flawless after all.  He was, and probably still is, my favorite antagonist just because that illusion of control made him so frightening -- and once that illusion broke down, he became actually even more terrifying as he started to lose his self-control.  The before and after was pretty intense to watch.

And here we go.  When it comes to antagonists in Arc V, even if he’s not my personal fave?  I don’t think you can get much better than Leo Akaba.

Like, before the final arc, I really, really didn’t think much of him.  I barely cared about him.  And after Synchro, I was really just kind of bored of him.  Like, I didn’t imagine there was any way they could one up Roget -- Roget was literally the perfect villain.  How could this boring guy who spends all his time sitting in a chair and watching things happen without actively doing anything ever be better than that?  Part of me was actually feeling a little let down, because I couldn’t imagine getting anything better than Synchro.

And then That Episode went down, and it blew all of my wavering expectations out of the damn water.

As I mentioned before about the humanity of the villains in Arc V, Leo fits that theme to a T.  He’s not magical.  He’s not even really evil.  He’s just someone who found a way to justify the absolutely terrible, horrible things that he’s doing, and that’s so real -- that’s so terrifying.

As soon as you get the truth about Ray, about the dimension split, about everything, literally the entire show falls into place.  Every single bit of Leo’s character is thrown into stark clarity in just the space of an episode.  He’s not just a guy sitting in a chair -- he’s a madly grieving father who doesn’t even believe the world he’s in is real, so of course he doesn’t feel bad about using and abusing fake people in a fake world in order to get his real world and his real daughter back.  It’s horrifying, and yet it’s so human.  

Humanity and society was really the real antagonist of Arc V, and it just manifested in different ways: in the wild actions of a child clearly abused by the system that should have taken care of him, in the grasping for political power by an out of control authority figure, in the inconsolable grief of a father, and in the breakdown of a young man who was only trying to meet the expectations of the world around him.

There’s something very poignant in that.  It’s definitely one of the reasons that I’ll be coming back to Arc V again and again.

[shes-claws-deep]

your headcanons and overall writing is super good, thank you for providing so much great content!! if you ever get the chance, I'd love some more Pathfinder headcanons! i don't mind either sfw or more nsfw, I just think he's super cute and lovely ;v;

How about some sfw ones this time? 

When he first started having feelings for you, Pathfinder was lost yet intrigued to say the least. What is this warmth he’s feeling in his chassis? His fans are going into overdrive when you’re close? Why does this only happen around you? For the longest time, all he could think about was that he enjoyed your company and that whenever possible, he should seek you out. It wasn’t romantic at first, far from it, and he started off as a very good friend. Your and his relationship is the epitome of friends to lovers. He doesn’t think he would ever have agreed to be your boyfriend if he didn’t know you very well first.

You think Mirage is a motormouth? Oh, just wait until Pathfinder gets his engine revving. For the longest time, he had no processor-vocal filter, saying everything that occurred to him to say. No matter how inappropriate, how mean, how nice, or how taunting, he’d say it in that cheery tone of his. Needless to say it really confused you as to what he meant at first, but as time went by you’d start to read in between the lines to get at what he really meant. He still can talk a mile a minute though.

Human touch intrigues him. Before he got that pleasure stim programme, he was only able to feel the vaguest of pressures on his metal armour. What use would an MRVN have for touch sensors? He knew you liked touching him, he knew you liked it when he touched and hugged you, and he was content in knowing he was making you happy. After he got the stim programme though? Oh boy, he couldn’t take his hands off you and he couldn’t stop begging you to touch him. Just a touch to his arm could get him leaning towards you. Just a palm to his head could get him purring in his chassis. He’s so touch starved now that it’s quite comical.

Pathfinder is really fond of pet names. You can call him the most ridiculous things and he’d happily lap them up, greedily asking you if you’ve got any more things to call him. His personal favourite is good boy, but he can’t afford to be called that in public lest his chassis turn red hot. If you have a favourite pet name to call him, he’d proudly crow to the others that you are very fond of him. So fond that you’d give him a special name all to himself. The others try to tease him but this smug bot won’t let it affect him. 

[hookedonapirate]

Hi! I was the one who asked for more smut along the lines of Emma telling Killian off during sex. I figured I'd also make a suggestion for you. Maybe a one shot where Killian and Emma are neighbors who hate each other, but have plenty of sexual tension between them? Neighbors turned lovers stories are among my favorites. Anyway, just a suggestion. Love your work! I'm a HUGE fan!

A/N: Okay, this isn’t exactly what you asked for, Nonnie, because Killian doesn’t hate Emma, and whether she actually hates him or not is for you to decide, but I hope you enjoy. Also, this turned into a two shot instead of one so there will be another part, I just haven’t finished it yet. So much for hard limits of 3k words, ha!

Summary: “The game’s simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.”

Rated: M

Also available on: AO3 FF

Part Two

❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ 

Ten Minutes 

Part One

Emma hates her neighbor. No, hate is really not the correct term. To say she detests him would be more accurate. He’s a walking innuendo full of cheesy lines and flirty quips, which gives her goosebumps. Not to mention the thing he does with his brow—the thing that makes her heart skip a beat and makes her skin hot, her breathing transitioning from smooth and rhythmic to sharp and ragged, but she really and truly hates it.

The first time she’d met him, she knew he was trouble.

Emma was carrying a box in her arms, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and a tote strapped to the other as she walked from the elevator to her apartment, panting and out of breath. The box was rather heavy and she feared her arms would give out on her at any second. She couldn’t wait to get into her apartment and allow her arms some utter relief from the torture she was putting them through. When she approached the door she knew the only thing left to do was unlock the door.

“Shit!” she grumbled in frustration, realizing the key to her apartment was in her jean pocket because that was where she’d it slid into when the landlord had handed it over.

Emma was trying to figure how the hell she was going to retrieve it without throwing everything on the floor when she heard a voice, that voice, which to this day, is her undoing.

“Need a hand, love?”

Emma almost dropped everything, startled by the smooth British accent that made her blood sizzle, goosebumps crawling over her skin, and she decided to get a peek the man speaking, but that turned out to be a reckless mistake. Just when she thought he sounded genuinely sincere, she saw the smoldering blue eyes, dark unruly hair and dirty smirk adding to the smug expression on his devastatingly gorgeous face. Yeah, he had the kind of face that stopped a person dead in their tracks, the face that made one rethink every other person in the world they thought was attractive and made a heart skip a beat, because this man was the epitome of handsome in every single way.

And then there was his clothes, which accented the body he was hiding underneath in a sinfully delicious manner, making her blood scream—he was wearing a black v-neck that clung to a rock hard stomach and snug blue, stone washed jeans.

For one second Emma forgot how heavy the box was, too busy gaping at him with her mouth hung open. She tried to compensate the pause in her stonewalled expression by nonchalantly looking away, but she knew the blush flooding her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

Oh, and if his looks weren’t enough to kill a woman in his path, there was the goddamn wag of his eyebrows as he added, “All the female neighbors say I’m very talented with my hands,” eliciting her automatic response to men who were overly cocky and screamed “douchebag” because she’d really had her fill of that type.

Emma rolled her eyes and clutched her things closer to her chest. “No thanks.” She’d rather just stand there holding everything all day than accept his offer.

He chuckled and approached her anyways, extending his stupid hand. “I only meant I always help my new neighbors move in. What can I carry?”

Emma huffed in frustration and tried to shift the box into one arm so she could free one of her hands, but the box was far too leaden for that. It would end up slipping and collapsing onto the floor. “I don’t need your help.”

He didn’t believe her. “You sure  love, because —”

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t need anyone’s help,” Emma cut him off sharply. She tried to bend down to set the box on the floor, but her bags started sliding and she knew if she bent any further down they would fall from her shoulders. Which would not be good because there were some valuable items in them.

Luckily the guy put his hands up in surrender and offered a small smirk, unoffended. “I’ve done wonders with these hands and never disappoint, so it’s really your loss, not mine.” He finally walked away, but Emma was immediately regretting her decision because just as she tried shifting things around in her arms again, she knew everything was just going to come crashing down and would be broken and damaged like her own heart. She cringed at the thought, and maybe it was because she wanted to forget, or maybe it was the reminder of moving to Boston to start over which was what made her rethink her position on accepting his help. Emma closed her eyes briefly, sighing in defeat. “Wait.”

Killian turned around, lifting his brow again, and her stomach was doing somersaults as he threw her a questioning smirk. “Yes, love?”

Dammit.

She really hated the way her heart jumped when he used that word. “Not your love… but I could use your help,” Emma admitted, which in response, Killian lifted a hand to his ear as though he didn’t hear her.

“What was that?”

“I could use your help. Could you please unlock my door?” Emma asked resentfully. The box was getting extremely heavy, but she wasn’t going to hand him all of her things and let him inside her apartment. No, instead she was going to give him the key to it.

Real smart, Swan, she chided herself.

“Well you could have asked a little nicer, but I am a man of my word. I would love to help. Why don’t I just take the box? It looks rather heavy.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll set it down as soon as I get into my apartment. Just unlock the door please,” Emma asked impatiently. “The key’s in my left back pocket. Could you grab it?”

Killian’s grin grew lopsided, making her heart stutter as he stepped closer, his brow still raised like it was permanently stuck that way. “I would love nothing more than to grab it, but you might want to be more specific, because I might grab the wrong thing and you’re not really in a position to stop me or slap me in the face.”

“The key, moron,” she spat harshly. She was not in the mood for this. Not after days of packing, five hours of driving and now moving and unpacking. “Grab the key from my pocket. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“No that’s alright, love.” Killian quickly came around her, slipping his hand into her pocket, but of course it was the wrong one, and Emma’s breath hitched, feeling his warm hand through her jeans as his fingers searched around the pocket.

She expelled an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “The left, not the right.”

“Oops, my bad,” he chuckled, but his voice didn’t sound apologetic whatsoever as he removed his hand and switched to the other pocket. Emma’s breath caught in her throat yet again as his fingers curled against her butt when he grabbed the key. “I can think of much more enjoyable reasons I could be reaching into a woman’s pocket for a key… or something else…”

“Could you just shut up and unlock the damn door?” she barked impatiently.

“I could if you asked more nicely.”

Emma took a breath and spoke more softly this time, trying to calm herself. This man was really getting on her nerves. “Please unlock the door.”

“That’s better.” Killian finally slid his hand from her pocket, slipped the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door.

Emma hurried into the apartment and set the box on the coffee table with a relieved groan before setting her bags on the floor. She turned around, seeing Killian standing in the doorway holding up the key, so she stepped up to him and reached for it, but he pulled his hand away. “Ah, ah, perhaps gratitude is in order before I give it to you,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips in suggestion.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, ignoring his choice of words and the way his lips pouted when the pad of his finger made contact with it. “Can I have my key back now?”

“That’s all your key is worth to you?” he asked cockily, stepping closer and licking his lips.

Emma blushed and shook her head, thinking of other things he could be doing with those lips and tongue of his. “I don’t kiss strangers.” She held out her hand. “The key, please.”

Killian grinned and extended his free hand, taking hers to shake it. “Of course, the name’s Killian Jones.”

Emma scoffed, but didn’t pull away. She really had to give this guy kudos for his persistence. So, with hesitance, Emma gripped his hand firmer, hoping it hurt. “Emma Swan.”

“Well now that we’re not strangers anymore… how about that kiss?”

Emma blushed and opened her mouth, flicking her tongue around the inside and scanning his features. This guy was really asking for a good beatdown, but she couldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction, and she knew he wasn’t going to back down easily. She’d have to call the cops on his cocky ass first.

So, instead, she fisted her hands around his shirt, and in one swift motion, launched towards him, smashing her lips into his. Their mouths collided in a searing kiss, and the surprised groan that tore from his throat surged through her body, making her shiver all the way down to her toes as their mouths opened for one another in cadence.

Their tongues swiped fiercely at one another and connected, liquid heat rushing through her veins as he cupped the back of her head in his hands, eager fingers weaving through her golden locks. Emma felt like she was suffocating in his hold, but she didn’t want it to stop. His scruff was scraping against her skin, she craved it every time they parted against one another, and his lips were soft, but firmly pressed to hers and so delicious, she hated him for it.

Slanting their heads and drawing in the other’s breath until there was no air left in her lungs, she pressed him closer, her breasts hard against his chest. He responded with a growl, the deep rumble rising from his throat and tugging her belly. As sexy as it was—the kiss, the man on the other side of it, the gentle way he sucked her tongue and bit her bottom lip, the noises he made as she swallowed them all down—the sound made her stumble back to reality and literally, yanking her from the lust currently muddling her brain, and she ripped her mouth from his, gasping onto him for dear life.

He chased her lips, but she pulled away, taking in the way he looked—completely destroyed, his eyes hooded and dark as he blinked several times, his lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

“That was…”

“A one time thing.” Emma took advantage of his vulnerable state and grabbed her key from his grasp, pushing him backwards until he was in the hallway. He was completely devastated and bewildered when she grabbed the knob and slammed the door in his face.

After that, she had done everything she could to avoid him because every time she saw him, the memory of that day came flooding back, and all she wanted was to forget.

So when Emma had hurried into the elevator in her tight, low-cut red dress after chasing and catching a mark, looking forward to taking off her heels, slipping into a hot bath and reading a good book, she hadn’t expected her stupid neighbor to jump in before the doors slid shut. She also hadn’t expected him to be carrying a bottle of rum he bought from the liquor store and she hadn’t expected him to be even more handsome than she’d remembered. She also hadn’t expected the elevator to stop working and their phones to be out of service.

Fucking hell.

And now they’re sitting on the floor sharing the bottle of rum as she tries to convince Killian she hates him. Which she does.

“Then why did you kiss me if you hate me so much?”

“To get you off my back.”

Killian raises an eyebrow, a wicked smirk tainting his lips. God, he really needs to stop doing that. It makes her heart flutter too fucking much. “Love, if anything, kissing me would put youon your back.”

Emma rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath,  “You wish.”

They haven’t had much to drink, but Emma’s feeling a buzz as she hands over the bottle of rum and glances at her annoying neighbor who takes another swig from it. At least the tiny bit of alcohol in her system makes him more tolerable, and if she’s being honest, his eyes seem to be even more blue, his smile much more attractive and the thing he does with his eyebrow is way more sultry than she’d prefer to admit.  

Killian gulps down the amber liquid and lowers the bottle, wetting those pretty pink lips of his.

Emma wishes she were the one awarded with that task, of feeling his lips and scruff against her skin (but it’s only the alcohol speaking) as she leans back against the wall, averting her gaze away from him.

“I’ve an idea.”

Lifting a brow, she turns her head to face him again. “Uh oh, this can’t be good… unless your idea is getting the elevator to work so we can part ways of course.”

Killian emits a suppressed laugh as he cranes his neck, languidly rolling the back of his head against the wall to look her in the eye. “And give you what we both know you don’t really want? I think not. I had quite a different plan, actually.”

“And what’s that?” Emma’s definitely not interested in anything he has brewing in that dirty mind of his. Not. at. all.

Killian’s lips widen into a dark smirk, his eyes glittering with a combination of mirth and devilry, and her breath does not catch in her throat, nor does her heart stutter. Okay, maybe a little. “I want to play a game. You claim I have no effect on you, you claim you hate me with every breath you take, so I say, you prove it.”

Okay, Emma kind of said that, and she kind of likes where this is going. “No problem, Jones. Tell me what I have to do,” she murmurs before grabbing the bottle of rum from his hand, their fingers making contact, and she takes a quick drink, the liquid burning as it slides down her throat.

Killian leans in, his lips way too close to her ear, and his hot breath hovering over her skin, making her shudder. “The game’s simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.” She stands from the floor, ready to get this over with as she looks down at him, waiting for him.

For a second, Killian seems surprised, his pupils dilating with disbelief, and his cocky bravado suddenly vanquished. “Really? You’ll play along?”

Emma shrugs. “Sure, why not? I will definitely win this, so I’m not worried.”

Killian’s eyes light up in excitement, a mischief-laced smirk gracing his sinful-looking mouth as he stands up pulling out his phone to bring up the timer. “Before I start, shall we establish some rules?”

“Well, you said whatever you want. So rules kind of defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”

He grins and sets the timer. “I do love the way you think, Swan. Although, if it were up to me, we’d be in your room instead of this elevator and you’d be completely naked.”

Emma’s cheeks flush with pink and she bites her lips to suppress the imagery his words have formed. “Yeah, too bad we don’t have that option at the moment. Let’s just get this over with.”

“As you wish.” Killian presses start and sets the phone down before coming up behind her.

Emma loses a breath, her heart pounding when she feels Killian’s touch as he slides his hands down her arms. The path of his fingertips ignite her skin, she trembles and closes her eyes, preparing herself for anything. Why didn’t she accept his offer for setting rules again?

Killian swipes her hair over one shoulder, and his hands move to her shoulders, gently rubbing and kneading soothing circles into her skin.

“Really? You can do anything you want, and you go with a back massage?” she asks with a snort, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

She can feel his breath on her skin when he leans in, whispering into her ear. “I’m just warming you up. You’re too tense, just relax.” His voice is soothing and sinful all at once and his hands actually feel amazing as he works on her shoulders and upper back,  but she doesn’t make a sound.

Emma draws in a shaky breath, letting it out very slowly as he gently works on the knots in her muscles.

“That’s a good lass,” he purrs, and this time his lips are on the shell of her ear, making her quiver underneath his touch.

Killian moves down her back, kneading and smoothing the tightened muscles, but he doesn’t stay there very long, because it’s probably been two minutes already. It’s only been two minutes and he’s barely touched her, but Emma’s already completely sober and she can feel her body crumbling to pieces underneath him, a tingling sensation all over, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy. She tries to think about other things, but as soon as Killian grabs her hips and presses her flush against his body, Emma gasps. She bites back a moan when his lips descend to her neck, exposed and flushed, as she attempts to steady her breathing. His mouth is warm and heavenly, and his breath is blazing hot, massaging her pulse point, his stubble scratching her skin, tongue darting out to lick her tender flesh.

You can do this, she tries to coax herself, but let’s face it, she’s a fragmented mess, her core is aching and her nipples are hard as a rock. She still remains confident… until he takes the bottom of her dress in his hands, scrunching up the fabric and pulling it to her hips, exposing her panty-covered nub. His hands find the apex of her thighs, palming her flesh and she has to bite her bottom lip wishing he were closer to her center, which at this point is dripping wet. At the same time, she hopes he doesn’t because then he would know the effect he has on her, if her trembling body, shallow breaths and the way she molds into him doesn’t already. Killian begins kissing the shell of her ear, his lips engaging her lobe with open-mouthed kisses. He pulls the tip of her ear with his teeth, and she can hear little groans under his breath as he massages her thighs and hips without touching the place she wants him the most.

“Fuck.” Emma’s breathing becomes ragged and loud, almost turning into a moan, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. Killian smirks against her ear and she realizes what she’s just done. “That doesn’t count,” she attests. “It was a sound of disapproval.”  

“Whatever you say, love.” He doesn’t sound too concerned, and suddenly he’s spinning her around until her back is being pressed into the wall, Killian’s body on hers in an instant, the air escaping her lungs. He hoists her up and she squeals at the satisfying feeling of being trapped between him and the wall as she wraps her legs around his hips. His teeth are nibbling on the bare part of her shoulder, gently pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard, and her panties are completely drenched. Emma can no longer hold back when his erection is embedded into her center; an audible moan finally escaping her mouth. “Killian,” she breathes heavily. “Don’t stop.”

Killian lifts his head, looking into her eyes, and to her surprise, he’s not giving her a smug smirk or quirky brow; he appears to be utterly wrecked, his eyes clouded with lust. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He captures her lips and thrusts his hips into hers, their clothed centers rubbing together so deliciously, Emma thinks she might come right there.

Killian can sense she’s close and kisses her breathlessly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and finding hers. She swallows the groan he offers when their tongues collide in a fiery, rapid duo and she grinds her hips against his, seeking more friction.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand moves from her waist and slides between her thighs, pushing her panties aside, his fingers slipping into her wet, aching heat. Emma’s cries are muffled by his mouth, but not restrained as she moves her hips, chasing more of his fingers. Killian releases her lips, smirking against her mouth, panting fiercely.

“You like when I touch you, don’t you, love?”

Emma whimpers when his movements stop.

“Tell me, Emma.”

“Fuck you,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she bucks her hips, begging for him.

Killian growls, plunging his fingers into her heat, and she’s really starting to love that sound. “Tell me you love when I touch you.”

“Yes! I love when you touch me! I love the effect you have on me!” she screams, hoping he’ll relieve her of this blissful torture.

Thankfully, he gives her what she craves, and so much more, as he pumps three digits into her, his thumb flicking her clit. “That’s a good girl.”

She whimpers, her nectar erupting over his hand, fingers tightening around his shoulders. She’s never been a fan of foreplay; whenever she’s bedded a man, he’s never been talented enough to pleasure her with his hand alone. In fact, she’s never really been that satisfied in bed, but God , she loves being fucked by Killian’s fingers. And she hates that she loves it.

“You stupid asshole!”

“That’s it. Let this asshole make you come.”

Letting her head fall back, hitting the wall, she screams unabashedly when she jolts and explodes with ripples of pleasure because Jeezus. Fucking. Christ. That’s incredible.

Killian’s movements slow, letting her ride his fingers through the aftershocks as she slumps against the wall, fighting for air.

Somewhere during that time, when her mind is floating on a blissful cloud, the elevator comes to life and Killian hurries to right her clothing, letting her feet fall to the ground before he smooths out her dress, pressing it into place. They look at the timer and there’s still thirty seconds left. Killian grins, his eyebrow curving, and now his cockiness is shining through again, but she doesn’t care. Emma takes his hand and pulls him out of the elevator.

His face contorts in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“We’re raising the stakes,” she replies, a bit of devilry in her smile.

Killian arches a brow in curiosity as they reach her door. “Please do tell, love.”

Emma retrieves her keys from her purse, unlocking the door as she looks over at him. “You’ve won, obviously, so let’s see how many times you can make me come.” Emma’s smirk reeks of mischief as she leans in, whispering in his ear. “But instead of ten minutes… you get an hour.” She can hear him gasp as she slightly pulls away. “Unless you’re not up to the challenge of course.”

Killian stands there practically drooling as his tongue traces his bottom lip, excitement buzzing in those goddamn blue eyes. “Oh I’m up. I’m very up.”

Emma giggles and takes his hand, pulling him inside the apartment, never breaking their gaze. “Good.”

Read Part Two here

Tagging people who asked to be tagged and also a few more, so I’m hoping I didn’t miss anyone ❤ @rouhn @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @laschatzi @superchovan @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @deathbycaptainswan @followbatb @captainswan-shipper88 @kiwistreetswan @bestshipcaptainswan @andiirivera @coliferoncer @jonirobinson64 @gingerchangeling @thislassishooked @hookswan25 @piratesbooty63fan @dmarien @aye-captn @ilovemesomekillianjones @mrsjones666 @searchingwardrobes @officerrogers @klar425 @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @capswantrue @takhisismb @innocenceneverfound @kymbersmith-90 @courtorderedcake @kday426 @its-about-bloody-time-cs @jackieorioncat @fandomnerd12 @branlovesouat

[ericbroflovski]

like i get that they made kyle/heidi canon but kyle seems so confused in that ep where all the girls tell him he has a crush on heidi and i get why, like he barely knew who heidi was before she started dating cartman? he def didnt actually like her and only fell for her cause he could ‘save’ her from cartman he has such a messiah complex

at least cartman knows he’s obsessed with kyle and wants him around even if he wont admit it to others (see: smug alert) but i feel like kyle is just as obsessed with cartman but doesnt know it. he likes how cartman will always do something evil so kyle can play the heroic opposing force. i love how kyle tells cartman that he should be upset over how the danish are leaking everyones internet historys in this clip:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzfZU3ulOP0

hes like, ‘get with it, dude. youre supposed to be a self-serving asshole, stop doing all this cute shit with your girlfriend’. he is the epitome of jealous boyfriend esp in their exchange at the beginning with kyle being like ‘she wasnt funny’. i feel like they couldve made kyle/heidi so much better i wouldve been here for a kyle/heidi/cartman love triangle but they sunk them after one half assed ep…

(also in that clip did cartman legit just go to kyles house to tell him he shouldve called heidi funny… so desperate for some face time w him smh)

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Fantasy Meihem- Part 2

“Mei’s a cute name! Mei, Mei, Mei. Feels good on my tongue. You feel good on my tongue. Mei, Mei, Mei.” The demon yammered on from above her. She groped up blindly with her seeking fingers until she found a suitable hold amongst the rocks, pulling herself up with a little struggle after pushing her sleeves out of the way yet again. “Would you please stop distracting me, demon!” “Oi, you just going to keep calling me ‘demon’ then? I don’t like that much, too impersonal, like me just calling you ‘human’ over and over again, Mei. Can’t give you my true name but, how about you give me a nickname! You’re a nice girl, you could name me something nice.” He rolled over onto his back on the flat space up above, staring up at the sun as the ice mage valiantly struggled on the cliffs below. “How about it?” She was really, really not in the mood for this right now, banging her staff against the rock as a little platform of ice crystallized on the rocks to give her a foothold. But it began melting quickly in the desert sunlight. His high-pitched yammering continued on, though she only heard half of it, and finally she snapped back at him, ““Well…how about Jamison? That’s the name of one of my old boyfriends?” The demon’s eyes lit up, blazing bright yellow as he pressed his claws to the side of his face. “Y-you would really consider me-” “It was a bad break-up. I don’t like him very much,” she said matter-of-factly, scrambling a little further up.

“Jam-i-son,” he tried, tasting  the syllables in the mouth as he chanted it a few times. “Jamison! Yeah, that’ll work. That’s a great name for me, darl, you’re so good at this,” he praised, apparently ignoring or simply unaware of her attempts at an insult. She sighed again and tried to concentrate on climbing. “This here’s the place! Just up ahead! Can’t go too far from the sigil or it’s curtains for yours truly. Really glad you’re here to help a guy out, you’re my lil’ fluffy hero.” The annoying demonic entity was hovering in a lounging position up on the cliff just above her, levitating a foot or so off the ground in a ridiculous way as she struggled to climb. “You uh…you sure you don’t need any help, there?” “I’m not just here to help you, demon,” Mei retorted, trying to keep her hat in place while ascending the escarpment. “This is my duty to investi-gghh!” Her words turned into a squeal as one of the rocks below her came loose, tumbling down in a torrent of dust and pebbles and leaving her foot hanging, flailing and kicking as she found a crack and wedged her cute little boot into it for hold. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” “How about a boost? I promise I won’t tell,” he cajoled as the dust settled, settling both hands under his chin in an infuriatingly coy way. Mei glared up at him a bit. She was currently stuck on the side of a steep cliff, with her legs spread awkwardly apart, her feet wedged into cracks, and her robes snagging at every limb when she tried to move. The demon might have been smug, but it was better than tumbling to her death to the ground below, just to have her remains eaten anyway. Grumbling under her breath, she finally freed a hand and offered it upward. “All right, maybe pull me up a little, but-” His claw smacked into her palm long fingers curling around her entire upper arm, and she was suddenly being lifted, light as a feather. The newly dubbed Jamison hauled her up as if she weighed barely anything at all, though for a moment she hung perilously out in the air and her belly clenched at the very real possibility of him dropping her. But before the fear could even really take hold, she was being taken in, and settled light as a feather against his bony chest, the tips of her boots scrabbling at the dirt as he very gently set her down. She grasped her chest, heart still hammering. “Um…thank you. I guess that was a little quicker.” When he didn’t answer her, she offered him a puzzled look. He was unabashedly staring at her now, their yellow centers brighter than ever. He leaned down to her height, and she leaned faaaaar back, mouth screwing up a little tightly. “Um.” In a flash of red, Jamison leaned close and sniffed noisily, nearly inhaling a nose full of her hair in the process. “Wha-wait! Hold on a tick! Is that-” He gasped in what seemed like genuine surprise. “Nooo! You can’t be!” She briskly went to push him away. “Stop that this instant! What are you doing?” “You actually are a virgin?! Holy tits, I can’t remember the last time I smelled a whiff like this! Ooooh, that’s the sweetest thing I smelt in a long time. Peaches and cream! Extra cream. No, extra peaches. Both, maybe. I thought I musta been mistaken earlier when you got so huffy about the virgin sacrifice thing, but you’re definitely-” “Get off of me!” She bellowed, voice uncustomarily gruff as she shoved him harder. “You can’t smell something like that!” The grinning demon let her push him, still lurking perilously close by and gesturing to himself with one claw. “Uh…Actually. Ain’t that sort of what I do?” he asked, as if it should have been obvious. He turned his glowing eyes to the girl, who was flushing so dark red they almost matched. “Aw, darl, what’s wrong?” “There is…nothing wrong with choosing to focus on one’s studies,” she said a little primly, staring down at a nearby rock as though it had become the most interesting thing in the world, so long as she didn’t have to look at him. Her voice was halting and hesitant, clearly not used to being confronted on the matter. Especially in such a brash way that only someone like him could pull off. “Not everyone has time for…things of that particular nature…And that doesn’t matter! We still need to focus on the task at hand, here! And you are not to mention that again, understand? You said you wouldn’t be untoward, dem- Jamison.” His eyes dimmed a little and the demon looked conflicted, still sniffing eagerly. But a moment later he sighed and his posture drooped. “All right, you got me there. I mean, maybe later we…Okay, yeah, task at hand, right? So, can you do something about this sigil or not?” He gestured one claw out, and she turned to find the marks on the ground, just like he’d said…and far more than that. Inside the summoning circle were smaller circles, many of them stained with blood or piled high with bones, feathers, and piles of rotting entrails. There were scorched marks everywhere, fire and lightning burning the sand to glass in places. Off to the side lay the charred corpses of two dead men, one who had had both his arms torn off, twisted in the dust, and the sand was dark from long-soaked blood. The smell of death and ash really hit her for the first time as the wind changed, and she turned and bent double, gagging audibly. The scrawny demon man stood over her and asked, “Heh, but I mean…if you still want to talk about the…v-word, thing…” The only v-word she could think of at that time was the word ‘vomit’, and he was definitely not helping. She flailed one hand to drive him a little further away, sucking in air as she finally managed to straighten up, adjusting her glasses beneath her wilting hat. “You didn’t say there were dead men here! You didn’t say anything about it being this level of…this!” “Oh yeah, my friend gave ‘em one hell of a fight! Heh, that one man there, you shoulda heard the noises when his limbs got plucked off. Try waving all your magic wand gibberish when you got no arms, bucko!” He drifted forward amongst the carnage, still levitating just a few lazy inches off the ground. “But that leader of theirs that was with ‘em…black cloak sort, weird owl mask, he got a hold on my friend and it went downhill from there. Bindings got him and I couldn’t help.” “A black cloak and an owl mask? And you said they were summoning more than just you two, right?” She retrieved her little notebook, scribbling this down. “That’s why I didn’t even try messing about with them. By the time we’d arrived, they already had quite the crowd here. Some even more powerful than my buddy, and that’s hard for me to even imagine. Even the pig only got a few blows in before they were on him.” He gave one of the corpses a little kick. “Wankers!” She was hurriedly trying to draw a chart of the sigil before her, mapping out where each circle was and what was in them. “My superiors are definitely going to need to see this. Illegal cabals performing mass summonings can never lead to anything good. It’s a bit of a travel to reach the city, but I have to deliver this information. Come on!” “For the last bloody time, I can’t ‘come on’! I can’t go beyond these canyons or out of range of this gate. You were gonna help. You said you’d let me loose, right?” “I never said I would set you loose, Jamison,” she corrected with a frown. “You can’t just go loose. That’s irresponsible.” “You can’t just leave me here!” He spread both arms, taking a step forward. “How about…How about you just take me with? Bind me to you instead?” “I can’t do that either. I can’t have demonic servants.” “Er…Bind me to something else, then! Something you can take with you, just get me outta this hole. Maybe I can still be able to look for my friend with you. Please, I’ll beg ya if that helps, just…don’t leave me behind?” He clasped both claws pleadingly, leaning down to almost bow before her, the spiky bones of his vertebrae jutting from his spine with the motion. “I’ll be quiet as a little rat in your pocket if you just bind me to something you can carry, won’t be any trouble at all. I’ll do it willingly, just need your permission and a quick spell, that’s all. You can take me with, drop me off with your folks if you like, do whatever you like with me. But don’t leave me here.” She tried to keep telling herself that he was a demon. A demon who was an epitome, an amalgamation, of base instinct and evil. He certainly looked the part, with his flaming hair, red skin, and dripping fangs. But…for a demon, he seemed awfully sincere, and hadn’t really tried to trick her yet. He didn’t really seem bright enough to, when it came down to it. He’d showed her where the circle was, he’d helped up the cliff, and though his manners were certainly lacking and she really needed to be clear with him about the virginity-sniffing…thing…he seemed to have no qualms with throwing himself upon her mercy. “Well I guess…Maybe I can turn you over to someone who has more experience in this sort of thing? If I temporarily bound you to an object, you’ll be harnessed to that instead.” She began searching in her bag for something she could use, and his shadow fell over her as he leaned in as well to watch. She had packed light, and most of the things in her bag were too practical or already magical implements she didn’t want to break with any demonic spells. She had a few camping supplies, though. The sleeping bag and her clothes were right out, of course. The last thing she wanted was this entity being so…ugh, close against her skin like that. Maybe a cooking pot? But then what would she cook in? She had a dirty sock with a hole in it, maybe that…No, that would be insulting to both of them. Or maybe it wouldn’t, to him? He was so weird… The sun was beating down on her, and she pulled off her pointed hat to wipe away more sweat. Jamison gasped and clapped aloud suddenly, flesh meeting metal with a hollow clank. “Oooooh! Shiny! How about that, right there?” She felt atop her head, suddenly remembering the presence of her bun…and the hair pin that she kept usually hidden beneath her hat. It was long and thin, topped with a glass bead and a dangling snowflake charm, in the style of her homeland. She reached up with both and very carefully plucked it out, her hair falling loose in messy waves down around her shoulder. The snowflake’s metal gleamed in the light, jingling as she held it up. “Would this work?” “That’s perfect! Shiny, pretty, and I get to be tucked all cozy in close with you under your big ridiculous hat, the virginal scent of your hair…” He sighed dreamily. For a moment, she really re-considered the dirty old sock option. But he was already moving, scrabbling across the ground as he dug his metal claws into the dirt, drawing a set of circles and symbols she didn’t recognize. His serpentine tail, pointed and black at the end, whipped around as he spun, drawing another circle around his entire body, before straightening and giving her a cheeky wave. “Oi, Mei-love, put it in the other circle and put one drop of your blood on the pin for your permission, and right she’ll be!” He swayed back and forth within his circle, though she couldn’t tell if he was giddy about getting to leave this dreadful place, or getting to temporarily live under her hat. She took up the pin carefully, examining the sharp ends of the snowflake’s crystal. Pressing one fingertip to its edge, she pushed until the delicate needle-edge pierced through her skin, and a single droplet of scarlet red welled up. She smeared it quickly onto the red bead at the tip before setting it down in the little circle on the other side, and stepped back. He said something, in a language that she didn’t understand, guttural and unpleasant and it made her ears hurt. But a moment later that was a cracking noise and a flash of light, and then nothing was left of the demon’s form save a few embers floating away in the foul breeze. Waving her hand in front of her face, she approached the makeshift demonic sigils and retrieved her pin. The red bead seemed different now…lit up from within, red and yellow and orange whirling violently inside the glass. Hesitantly, she touched it, and it was warm against her skin. With a shudder, she twisted her hair back up and went to tuck the pin back into place, placing her hat back atop it, and scrubbed the eerie demonic heiroglyphs from the dirt with a few kicks of her foot before turning to leave this awful place. She paused abruptly when a voice seemed to echo out of nowhere, 'Yeh! Now this is ace! We’re gonna have such a great time, you and me, we’re gonna find my pal, we’re gonna have sparkling conversation, we’re gonna-’ Her eyes rolled up to her hat. “Why am I hearing your voice in my head!” ‘…Well I mean, I’m right here next to it and all, and we’re going to be together for a while so…Did I forget to mention that part?’ “JAMISON!”

[sariasprincy]

Where it Happened ix - ItaSaku

Part i    Part ii    Part iii    Part iv    Part v    Part vi    Part vii    Part viii       Part ix (here)    Part x

Yes, I know this is massively late. What else is new?

Where it Happened part ix

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“What are you still doing here?”

Without picking his head up from the wall, Itachi opened his eyes. He angled his head towards Shisui as his older cousin stopped in front of the chair he had claimed only five minutes earlier. “I still have another six hours on my shift.”

Shisui shot him a look that clearly stated that hadn’t been what he was implying. “I meant what are you still doing here? In this hospital, in this city.”

A long sigh escaped Itachi. He had just performed a valve replacement before being pulled into emergency surgery the moment he scrubbed out.  And his shift wasn't even halfway over. He was the epitome of exhausted. This was the first break he’d gotten since walking through the doors that morning and he didn’t want to spend it debating with Shisui. Again.

“Not now, Shisui…”

“Then when?” Shisui slipped into the empty chair across from him and leaned back, his attention focused solely on his younger cousin. “You’ve been back for two months and you’re already miserable.”

“I am not miserable.”

“And apparently you’re a liar now too.”

Itachi scowled. “Who do you think it was that convinced me to come home?”

Shisui didn’t immediately answer. Guilt flickered across his face, causing Itachi to immediately regret his words but he didn't take them back. “Alright, maybe I did convince you to come home for selfish reasons, but I...I thought you were just being stubborn. I thought if you had talked to your father and sorted things out, we could go back to the way things were, but…”

A pair of nurses hurried past the row of chairs behind where Shisui was sitting, and Itachi watched them disappear around the corner before he sighed softly. “Things will never be the same here.”

There was a finality in his statement. As if he was finally voicing a truth they had all been trying to avoid for so long now. It had been kept deep in the back of his mind but Itachi had known all along that this place he had once considered home would never be a safe haven again. Too many things had happened. Too many things had changed. And he needed to change with it.

“You should go,” Shisui urged.

Itachi eyed his cousin for a long moment, wondering when he had become so mature. It wasn’t a side he often showed but he smiled nonetheless. Even if it was filled with nostalgia and quickly fading.

“My mother…”

“Mikoto will understand.”

“My patients-.”

“I’ve already reassigned your cases,” Shisui smirked.

Itachi arched his brow curiously. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A few days.”

Against his better judgment, Itachi chuckled quietly. He couldn’t find it within himself to feel annoyed or manipulated. Because the truth was he had been itching to return to the hospital that had begun to feel more like home than his actual home.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t one pink-haired cardiac surgeon that made him miss the life he had started to build across the country but he would only be lying to himself. He missed Sakura. He missed their banter and her no-nonsense personality. She was easy to talk to and he could rely on her when he needed another….well, him.

Itachi had tried to convince himself that his affections for her were nothing more than a crush. She was just someone he had redirected his attentions, a distraction, but as the days passed into weeks and weeks into months, he was beginning to understand she was more than that. He cared for her. And he missed her. He wanted to go back. He had to go back.

“What about you?” Itachi asked as he fixed his gaze on Shisui again.

His cousin shrugged with one shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it won’t be the last you’ll see of me.”

The last of Itachi’s anxieties faded upon Shisui’s smile and for the first time since he had returned home, he had something to look forward to. “I’ll need to book a flight.”

If possible, Shisui’s smirk turned even more smug. “I already have. You leave tomorrow night.”

xx

Over two months had passed but it was as if things had ever changed. The condo Itachi had rented during his extended stay was still waiting for him as was the car he had left parked in his parking stall. His mother had asked him multiple times if he had plans to give notice to the landlady, but a part of him had been unable to give up the small living space he had made his own. Like he knew one day he would return.

Itachi didn’t linger long in it now, only stopping to gaze out the window at the view that had become so familiar for only a moment before he showered and changed into a fresh suit. He had a scheduled meeting with the Chief in a few hours and if he knew Tsunade as well as he believed he did, she would have quite the earful for him for leaving so abruptly.

He passed the coffeehouse he used to frequent on his way to the hospital and quickly stopped in. The same barista was behind the bar and she smiled in recognition before she made his usual.  He waited patiently as he reread the email from the Chief’s secretary, confirming his appointment with Tsunade later that morning.

A moment later his attention was ripped away as the sudden screech of tires clashed with the blaring of horns.Itachi picked his head up just in time to see the immediate aftermath of a delivery truck striking a city bus broadside. People both inside and outside the coffeeshop paused in front of the windows, blocking the majority of the damage, but the screams and shouts for help could be heard throughout the intersection.

Without pausing, Itachi sprinted out the front doors. A few civilians were already hurrying towards the bus to help and so his focus shifted to the delivery truck. The entire front end was crushed, crumbling the door and making it impossible for anyone to get in or out, but the window still was mostly intact and he pulled himself up to it.

“Someone, please help me!” the driver called.

“I’m here,” Itachi said, drawing the man’s gaze. Fear danced behind his eyes and flickered across his face but it lessened upon sight of him. “My name is Itachi. I’m a doctor. What’s your name?”

“Chi-Chiyo.”

“Alright Chiyo, what hurts the worst?”

“My leg,” he answered. Both his legs were stuck under the dashboard, making it impossible to assess the damage. “I think...I think it’s broken,” Chiyo added.

“Without moving your neck or back, can you tell me if the bone has broken the skin?”

It was a moment before he answered. “N-no. I don’t think so.”

“That’s good,” Itachi told him calmly. “What about your chest? Does it hurt to breathe?”

Chiyo shook his head, causing Itachi to immediately still his movements. The frightened man tried again, “No. I think-I think I’m okay. Can you help me out of here?”

“Chiyo, I need you to stay here and try not to move,” Itachi said calmly. He could hear the sobs and cries of the injured through the rest of the wreckage and he was itching to see how bad it was. “The fire department is going to have to cut you out. I need to go check on everyone else, but I need you to stay still.”

“No, wait! Please don’t go,” he begged.

Itachi bit back his impatience. “You are going to be fine, Chiyo. But I have to go check on everyone else.”

The plea was only too apparent on the man’s face, but  Itachi said nothing before he jumped back down off the truck and hurried towards the bus. It was far worse than he thought. There were two casualties he noticed immediately, but he quickly turned away to help those still alive and in serious condition.

By the time the first responders began to survive, he had already stemmed the blood flow on three survivors and was in the process of stabilizing another when they suddenly lost a pulse. He began chest compressions and didn’t stop even as the paramedics loaded them into the ambulance until he felt the familiar throb of a heartbeat under his fingertips.

The minutes ticked by as the rig raced down the main road. The lack of trauma equipment was making him restless, but after asking for an ETA for the fourth time, the familiar emergency entrance for the hospital came into view and Itachi breathed a small sigh of relief as the first responders unloaded the patient to the awaiting doctors.

“Uchiha? What the hell are you doing here?”

Tsunade was eyeing him half surprised, half annoyed as he stepped out of the back of the ambulance behind the stretcher. She waited for him as the rest of the staff rushed the patient inside before they hurried into the ER after them. “I am here to discuss the possibilities of signing an extended contract.”

The Chief shot him a pointed look. “And you thought you would come in style?”

“I have a meeting with you in an hour,” Itachi said as he pulled off his suit jacket and hung in on an empty hook reserved for trauma gowns. “But I believe it is safe to say that we will have to reschedule. I need to get this patient into surgery. Do I have privileges?”

Tsunade pursed her lips but her decision was made when a flatline was suddenly called. “Get in there.”

With barely a nod, Itachi swept into the trauma room.

xx

Sakura was upset. Beyond upset actually and more into the realm of downright pissed off. Her emerald eyes were narrowed as she scanned the surgical board, eyeing the long list of ongoing surgeries. A nurse was in the process of updating the board and she watched her pen move with active interest as she cataloged the current traumas.

“Does that say that there’s a Cardiac Tamponade in OR 3?” Sakura asked suddenly.

The nurse paused in her writing to glance over her shoulder at her. “Uh...yes.”

“And how exactly do they plan to repair that with the only Cardiovascular attending standing here?” When the younger woman just stared wide-eyed, Sakura’s glare deepened. “Why the hell wasn’t I paged?”

The nurse just blinked at her bewildered, a bit taken aback to be on the receiving end of Sakura’s harsh words. Sakura knew it wasn’t her fault, but it had been a crazy day for the hospital.

Ten trauma surgeries, back-to-back. Ten victims had come in from a bus crash downtown and every single one that had been rushed through their emergency room doors had been brought down to an operating room. Sakura had been in and out of surgeries for near that of eight hours, and she didn’t understand why she hadn’t been paged for a surgery that obviously needed her skill and experience.

Admittedly Sakura was tired and cranky. She had put in a lot of extra hours in recent weeks and she was pretty sure her blood had turned into coffee and caffeine, but she didn’t offer the nurse an apology as she spun on her heels and hurriedly caught the elevator to the surgical floor.

A surgical team was already inside the OR and silently Sakura watched them work through the windows of the washroom as she pulled on her mask before scrubbing. Irritation still simmered in her chest but she made sure to scrub thoroughly before she finally slipped into the room.

“Who the hell decided it would be a good idea not to page me?” Sakura asked loudly. She accepted a sterile cloth from a nurse and dried her hands as she gazed pointedly about the room.

“That would be me.”

Sakura stilled. She knew that voice.

Automatically her eyes drew to the person standing in the Lead Surgeon’s spot. Even under the scrub cap and mask, she recognized him immediately. Everything about him was familiar: his tall, lean form, his stance, his stunning, black eyes. Even his technique as he cut and sutured was unmistakable.

“Itachi.”

He glanced at her briefly at the call of his name before he returned his attention to the task at hand. Emotion struck her suddenly and sharply in that simple look, twisting and knotting in her chest until she didn’t know how she felt.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had gone and left her behind, and now he was standing here as if he had been there the whole time. Betrayal took root under her breastbone and she fixed Itachi with a dark glare. “What the hell are you doing here, Uchiha?”

“I am working on resolving a fairly complicated Cardiac Tamponade,” he replied without looking at her.

“You don’t work here.”

Itachi paused to glance at her, his eyes unreadable. “I do as of seven hours ago.”

She blinked. “Under whose authority?”

“Chief Tsunade.”

He returned to the patient with his answer, leaving Sakura speechless. She hadn’t seen him all morning; they must have just been missing each other. And she hadn’t spoken to Tsunade since the night before as they were both pulled in and out of surgery.

Sakura felt blindsided. She wanted to yell and shout and hurt him all the ways he had hurt her, but she refrained. There was still a patient on the table in serious condition, and the only person she trusted to help them more than her was Itachi himself. He may be an ass, but he was an incredibly intelligent, incredibly talented ass.

The surgical staff was beginning to stare. There was nothing more she could say without causing a scene, and so without a word, she dropped her towel onto the floor before she marched out of the room. She ripped her mask off and tossed it in the garbage in the scrub room before she headed back out into the halls, in search of one person in particular.

She found Tsunade before the surgical board.

“When the hell were you going to tell me that you hired Uchiha Itachi back?”

Tsunade pulled her hazel eyes away from the large whiteboard slowly to peer at her. “Is that a problem? We still haven’t found a replacement for his position.”

“You should have run it by me first,” Sakura said, her voice unforgiving and laced with an edge of steel.

The older woman arched her brow but didn’t remark on her tone. “You and I both know you can’t run a department, never mind by yourself, when you have other obligations to the hospital. You’ve turned down every other applicant. I felt since you had no problems working with him before, you wouldn’t have any objections to hiring him back.”

“It still needs to be approved by the board.”

“It was forty-five minutes ago,” Tsunade told her. “As soon as Uchiha is out of surgery, I’m presenting him with a contract.”

Sakura blinked incredulously. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You were in surgery,” the Chief countered. “And the board only requires five votes.” When Sakura continued to frown, Tsunade turned to face her fully as curiosity burned in her hazel eyes. “Did something happen between you two that I’m not aware of?”

Sakura didn’t immediately offer an answer.

Itachi had kissed her. And then he left. She had asked him to stay and he had walked away like it hadn’t meant anything. Like she hadn't meant anything. She could admit that it wasn’t as bad as proclaiming his love or sleeping with her and leaving her alone to deal with their unborn child. Perhaps she was overreacting, but she couldn’t deny the hurt that thrummed in her chest.

“No,” Sakura eventually said. “Nothing happened.”

xx

The sky was dark outside the hospital windows, the moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Itachi watched them drift past as he pulled on his suit jacket, only turning away as a resident tentatively called his name. Hyuuga Hanabi was standing in the doorway of the Attendings’ lounge with a chart in hand and he silently stepped away the window to accept the offered binder.

His patient was stable. And their labs were clear, meaning he could go home tonight without concern. “Are you working tonight, Hyuuga?”

“I stayed last night,” she told him. When Itachi glanced at her, she flushed and immediately amended her statement. “But I can stay again.”

He nodded as he flipped the chart closed again and passed it to her. “Good. I want her labs checked again in a few hours. Page me if there are any changes for the worst.”

The young surgeon-in-training nodded before she took the chart back. However, she didn’t immediately turn to leave and Itachi turned back to her as she toyed with her next words. “Can I ask, are you just visiting or are you back?”

For a moment, Itachi merely regarded her. When he found only curiosity in her gaze, he murmured, “I plan to stay for some time.”

A genuine smile passed her face. “Welcome back then.”

Her energy was infectious and Itachi found the corners of his mouth turning up but he didn’t say anything more before Hanabi finally exited the lounge. It was only once he was alone again that he realized something. No one else had welcomed him back. Not even over the course of his ten hour shift.

A strange emptiness settled behind his ribcage as his smile vanished as quickly as it had come. The lounge suddenly felt so empty without any other surgeons present, and silently he slipped his old employee card into his pocket before he left the hospital.

Out in the parking lot, Itachi scanned the rows of cars, searching for where the intern who had picked up his vehicle had parked it. He had barely scanned the first stalls when a familiar face caught his notice.

Sakura was following the walkway down to the employee parking lot, the strap of her purse in the crook of her elbow and an overnight bag thrown over her shoulder. She hadn’t seen him and Itachi quickly followed her, wanting to catch her before she drove off.

“Sakura,” he called.

She picked her head up from where she had been digging through her bag for her car keys. When her eyes landed on him, she frowned. “My shift already ended, Uchiha,” she said as she resumed her search.

The use of his surname was not lost on him nor was the irritation sharpening her tone. It was the same one she had used in the OR earlier that afternoon, and it seemed that time hadn’t cooled her mood.

“Can we talk please?” Itachi asked quietly as they stopped beside a dark midsized SUV.

“You can talk to me tomorrow when I get in.” She didn’t spare him a glance as she finally located her keys and popped open her trunk. In one smooth movement, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and tossed it in before she reached up to pull the trunk closed again.

It was quickly becoming apparent that she was content to end their conversation there as she turned towards the driver’s door, but Itachi quickly moved around her, his hand coming to rest on the door handle before she could reach it.

Sakura glared at him, silently conveying that he would do well to move before she made him move. He knew she would too, and he shot her a pleading look. “Sakura…”

Her expression didn’t soften but the immediate threat faded. “What?”

She shot that single syllable at him like a bullet, leaving a sharp, stinging pain in its wake, but he didn’t flinch away. He understood her frustrations. She was disappointed and angry and he suspected hurt, even if she hid it well behind frosty, emerald eyes.

“I know that my leaving upset you. I am truly sorry.”

“Are you sorry you upset me or sorry for not telling me you were leaving?” Sakura asked pointedly.

“Both,” he admitted. “When I first came here, I never intended to stay. It was only supposed to be temporary.”

“Then why did you come back?” Sakura snapped.

Itachi didn't immediately answer. He had a few reasons for coming back, some more significant than others and some he wasn’t quite ready to admit aloud. Especially not with Sakura still looking like she was one misplaced word away from physically removing him from her path.

“Because of you,” Itachi finally said. When she scoffed, he quickly continued, “And Kakashi and Neji and even Ino. You all have breathed life into a place that is normally filled with pain and suffering. You all remind me what it was that made me choose to become a surgeon in the first place. That is why I came back.”

Sakura looked away as her anger lost much of its vibrancy. He waited with bated breath for her to speak, but when the seconds continued to tick by silently, he pressed quietly. “You asked me to stay.”.

She shook her head slowly. “But I didn’t ask you to come back.”

Her words were soft spoken but the betrayal rang clear in her tone. Her hurt resonated like it was his own and Itachi found himself unable to meet her gaze as a sinking feeling suddenly settled in his chest. “I needed time to get my life back together.”

Again, Sakura didn’t answer. That was when the first raindrop fell on Itachi’s hand before another peppered his skin next to the first. When he met her eyes again, Sakura’s face was unreadable. Not blank, but full of so many emotions it was hard to decipher one from another.

“Can we talk over dinner?” he asked. “Or coffee?”

Sakura didn’t move. For a long moment she simply stared at him as the rain began to quicken, striking the ground in slowly growing droplets. And just when he thought they would stand there forever, she murmured quietly, “You never called. Or texted. I never even got so much as an email. So you can’t have that much to say. And I know that I don’t either. I’m going home. I’m tired.”  

Her rejection struck Itachi like a physical blow but he said nothing before he opened her door for her. He waited until she slipped behind the wheel before he closed it behind her and stepped away, silently watching as she backed out of the parking stall and drove away.

It seemed after all they had been through together with the cases and the late nights, and the shared losses over ice cream and pizza and all manner of junk food, they were back to where they had started: Itachi, the new attending, and Sakura wanting nothing to do with him.

to be continued...