#where he stares into nowhere being all mysterious and looming?

[hornyjorny]

late night distractions

river ward x fem! v

summary: river decides he's finally had enough of the office, and decides to invite you over for a much needed break ;) an- i've literally been working on this for like. a fucking month by now lmao. anyway enjoy. will be posting more in the future warnings- smut (18+ mdni), soft dom river, sub!v, oral (f receiving) public s3x (whoops) , creampie, f!ngering, mild degradation, you are both horny gonks who desperately deserve a break, johnny is being annoying again

wc: 8k??? holy shit me wtf

In the darkness of his office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and casefiles, all River Ward can bring himself to think about is you. 

The room is silent save for the endless droning of the ceiling fan above, and the distant hum of the city beyond. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows that dance like phantoms, wrapping the room in an eerie solitude. Outside the office window, the neon lights of Night City painted a vibrant tapestry of chaos upon the lonely walls. Piles of unsolved mysteries loomed around him, their weight pressing down on his weary shoulders. 

River Ward sits in front of his computer, hands poised on the keyboard. All he can do is mindlessly stare at the open file on the bright screen before him.  He can’t focus like this.  

He can’t stop thinking about you. 

Truth is, River just misses you. He yearns for you like a junkie craves a fucking boost. The demands of his work as a private investigator in Night City have become a never-ending fucking acid trip, a labyrinth of dead-end leads, and goddamn conspiracy theories that seem to lead to jack shit.

It’s been a long fucking couple of weeks.

Sure, he knew becoming a private investigator in N.C. was no easy task—it’s what he’s signed up for, after all. But by fuck, he’s drowning in his work with little resolve. River can’t really complain about the pay, either. He’s actually starting out not-so bad— but fuck, he’s always busy. And when you live in a world where there’s a literal ticking time bomb in your girlfriend’s head, ready to go off at any moment, the last thing you wanna be is fucking busy. The demands of his work feel like a fucking all-consuming whirlwind, a never-ending shitstorm of new info that all leads to buttfuck nowhere. And worst of all, he just wants to be home with you, enjoying the little time you guys have left together. 

He aches for the way he’s able to pull you in his big arms, missing the way you always get on your tippy-toes to reach in for a kiss, having to reach up for him just to reach his lips. What he truly craves more than anything else in the world is your presence— your infectious goddamn smile, your  laughter, your soft and tender touch. But he can’t go anywhere. Not till he makes a break in the case, at least. 

River's fingers hover over the keyboard, but as he tries to focus, the words blur into a goddamn kaleidoscope of nonsense. His work, his responsibilities—it all fades into the background, overshadowed by the overpowering sense of longing. He shifts his gaze from the computer to the neon-drenched shitshow beyond the window, the vibrant chaos of Night City. As he thinks of you, a goddamn tidal wave of longing washes over him, drowning out the relentless work-related bullshit that usually occupies his mind. 

But fuck, as much as he tries to be respectful, he just also really misses fucking you. It drives him insane how easily you submit to him whenever you’re stuffed with his huge dick. River’s just enamored by your sweet, soft little muffled cries of pure pleasure while he overtakes your deadly cunt. He loves the way your shoulders tense up when he hits particularly deep, loves the way your little face twists and contorts with sheer pleasure, all weakened and already fucked out within minutes of him shoving himself in.. 

Shit. He can't take it anymore. The case can wait. He wants you, and he wants you now. No use heading home now, right? 

It’s fuckin’ late, well past 12 AM.

…but it’s also when you happen to be out you’re usually out and about after a gig. 

Why not give it a shot? 

River’s heart aches a little as he pulls up your contact over the holo. He just really, really fucking misses you, and internally prays that you’ll pick up, even if just to hear the sound of voice for a little while. He just craves any semblance of you. With an unsteady breath, he finally calls. 

The eerie ringing of the holodex against the silence of the night’s air was deafening. His chest raises, heart pounding, desperately hoping you’ll pick up. 

But then, the call finally connects, and you’re greeting him with the biggest, most mischievous grin on your face. Fuck, hes glad you answered. “Shit, was just aboutta’ text you, you know. Been missing you, Detective..”

River's lips curl into a smile he couldn't hold back—relief washing over him at the sound of your voice. Hearing you admit that you missed him too made him damn-near light headed. He takes a steady, deep breath to prepare himself before he speaks.

“Been missing you more than just words can say, V," he finally replies, his voice laced with a blend of longing and affection. "I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you, you know. It's been... tough here without you lately. Still at the fuckin’ office, too..”

You can distinctively sense River’s distress, he looks exhausted, and you can’t help but to feel the pang of longing that fills your heart. You really did miss him too. But turns out River was right— you were actually out and about on one of your little hot-shot missions, and it so happened you were closeby. Your honest, original plan was to just catch up with your boyfriend, maybe stop by his place if he so happened to be up. 

 “You know what, River?" You reply, voice tone a mix of playfulness and genuine concern. "I've got news that might make your night a whole lot better.” 

Well shit, now you’ve got him reeled in. “Was actually gonna ask you if I could stop by— Jus’ finished a gig not far from your place. Been thinkin’ about you a lot lately, Riv.” 

Oh, fuck. What were the odds? 

His heart starts to jump in his chest. 

“I’m at the office right now,” He breathes quickly, voice dropping an octave as he whispers into the holo.“Would really love it if you wanna stop by..” He just sounds so fuckin’ soft, so needy, your heart melts a little bit. 

“Be there in five, Detective.”

“Preem,” he smiles. “See ya then, V.” 

When you walk through the door, River’s weary gaze shoots up from the mountains of papers scattered casefiles on his desk. His mechanical eye flickers a shade brighter— and he’s beaming. Fuck, he’s glad you showed. To him, you merged like an ephemeral beacon. His weary gaze, burdened by the weight of investigations, was abruptly lifted as it collided with your presence. 

Before you had entered, the  room was cast in an eerie quietness, illuminated solely by a dim desk lamp that struggled to push back the encroaching shadows. Beyond the window, the vibrant neons of the city painted a fractured mosaic on the walls, offering a glimpse of the relentless nightlife far below. 

It felt kind of… lonely, almost. A heavy quietness hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the city, reminding River of the isolation that often accompanied his late-night work. Regardless, you skillfully navigate the precarious stacks of paperwork strewn like toppled skyscrapers across the floor to your boyfriend. 

"V," he breathed, his voice a low rasp of longing, "you have no idea how good it is to see you right now.” 

Before you could make it into his arms, your digital companion materializes before you, the air around him fracturing into millions of tiny blue shards, peering over River’s shoulder, aviators raised downwards. 

“Things are lookin’ rough for Detective Dumbass,” he pauses, looking back up to you, a smug grin plastered across his face. “…Looks like there’s something other than work on his mind. Better come let your dog off the leash before he snaps.”

You internally groan. And so it begins. You shoot Johnny a look— before you turn back to River. 

“Guess I can say the same to you, Riv..” You sigh with a smile, reaching out to tenderly touch his arm. “Can’t stop thinking about you, you know. S’ been a while since I saw you..”

“I know,” River whispers, his heart when you wrap your arms tight around his waist, resting your head against his chest. Your hearts beat in tandem, a silent symphony of love rekindled.  “Couldn’t be without you for a second longer if I tried, V..think I would’ve finally lost it.”

You can hear it in his voice— he’s tired. Exhausted. 

So you decide to give your detective a moment of reprise amidst the chaos. Fuck it, you’ll be the first one admit it— you’re desperate too. You haven’t seen River in god knows how fucking long. Haven’t felt his skin against yours in ages. 

“Well, I’m here now, Detective Ward...” you whisper, tracing your index finger along his chiseled jawline, down his chest, down to the loops of his belt. “Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me, then?” 

But regardless, your words carved through a path of intimacy that ignited a smoldering, burning fire. You swore mechanical eye shimmered with newfound brilliance. And in response to your playful assertion, his lips curved into a smile as radiant as the moonlight over the city's nocturnal canvas.

 “Be glad to, little merc.”

Oh shit, you hadn’t heard that little nickname in a while. But fuck, how you love when he calls you that. With little patience remaining within you, you finally crash your lips against his, and he borderline whimpers into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass as leverage to hold your shorter frame up into him. 

The sensation of his lips against yours feels borderline intoxicating. Everything about him drives you absolutely fucking insane— his mouth crashes against yours, letting out a little low groan into your mouth. You can’t help the way his excited eagerness sends little heatwaves down to your core. In that suspended moment, the world outside vanished into obscurity, all that mattered was him. 

But River pulls away, and your lips finally part. It seems like all time stops around you when you gaze into each other's eyes, your heavy, needy breaths rising and falling together in sync amidst the quiet of his office. 

“You know, V..” River whispers real low, finally breaking the moment of prolonged silence. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. Missed everything about you. Can’t focus… can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Oh, you absolutely know what he’s getting at. 

But then, the familiar materialization of blue pixels flashes before you, digital companion appearing before your very eyes, leaning against the door frame. You can’t help but to internally groan— not again. Always picking the worst times to interject. 

“Told you so, dipshit. Detective’s sniffin’ around for more…”

Before you can snap back, he’s gone. 

Ugh. 

The remnants of your playful distraction lingers like a promise in the air, your fingers tapping along River’s beefy arm. “Soooo, River? Gonna ask me to help you out?”

Steady heavy hands grab at your hips, holding you into place. River leans down to your ear, his voice a salacious whisper; an uncharacteristically animalistic growl leaving him as he leans in close. 

“I’ll fuck you right here, right now, if you’ll let me, V…” he pauses, steely gaze meeting yours. “That’s how much I missed you.”

Oh, shit. 

It didn’t even cross your mind that he would ever actually wanna fuck in his own goddamn office. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. 

You’re Night City’s most dangerous merc— and he’s a fucking up-and-running detective, one whose job is made harder by people like you every day— your relationship defies any and all odds, but by Christ, you can’t deny that offer. Not when you crave him oh-so-desperately, not when he’s towering above you, peering down at you like you’re about to become his next meal.

Your breath catches in your throat immediately, his words sending a euphoric shockwave of lust to your core. Rationally, it’s a terrible fucking idea, kinda a public misdemeanor, and just borderline nasty. Sure, it’s late as hell, but River’s office isn’t the only damn one in his building. Getting caught is the last thing either of you need right now, but fuck, you both need eachother like you need oxygen. Neither of you want to hold back.  

Truth be told, you’d give anything to be fucked right here and now. This was a side of River Ward you’ve never really seen before— and you’re here for it. 

“Huh,” Johnny appears in your line of vision—lighting up a conjured cigarette from the depths of your imagination. He takes a long drag before exhaling,  the digital smoke dancing in the dim lighting around you. “…Didn’t actually think he had it in him to do that type of shit.”

You don’t even hear Johnny at this point. You completely push him aside. 

“Here? In your office?” You repeat, a sly, shit-eating grin stretching across your face. “Isn’t that a lil risky, Detective Ward?” 

River’s staring down at you like you’re about to become his dinner, both his dark amber eye and white mechanical one bearing into yours in anticipation of your answer. You’ve never seen him so… feral. You’re almost intimidated. 

“Don’t start, V..” He growls, the warmth of his ‘ganic hand brushes tenderly against your cheek, before he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “…Risky isn’t something that’s bothered you before, has it now, little merc?” 

So of course, you feed into him. You know how to play him better than he can play himself. Your hands reach down to his chest, slowly down to the loops of his belt. You give it a weak little tug, all whilst maintaining eye contact. Innocently, you look up at him, batting your eyelashes— then you shake your head. “Never has, never will, Detective Ward.” 

He can’t deny that, can’t deny you— not when you look at him like that. “That’s what I thought,” A wild grin stretches across his face—his usual soft demeanor now completely thrown out the window. He presses a brief, sloppy kiss to your lips before pulling away. 

 “Keep at it, then. See if you can handle me.”

There’s something about the way he delivers the words that makes you tremble, like prey standing helplessly before its predator. River doesn’t stop there—he growls; dragging his lips to your neck; trailing sloppy bites, spattering blues and purple marks. Before you can miss the heat of his hands they’re back on your waist, slowly just trailing down your sides. River’s hands are fucking huge— able to cover you almost entirely, and it makes you shudder a little. Sure, you’re dangerous enough, could easily handle him in a fight, but sometimes you felt like River could really snap you in half if he really wanted to. 

His fingers travel underneath the hemline of your shirt, caressing against your bare skin. His ganic’ hand against you is so warm, almost burning against your skin, while his damn-near freezing metal hand makes you shudder. It’s a familiar balancing of the two sensations that you hold so so dear, and your appreciation for the feeling only amplifies  when they slide underneath your bra. 

River stops in his tracks hands rising to grasp at your chest, squeezing your sensitive nipples for just a second, and you fucking whimper. This time, he offers you some reprise— and finally tugs both your shirt and your bra off of you, leaving you exposed to the cool air of his office. 

River swore your body was a fucking work of art, dimly-lit curves protruding through the darkness of the office, your hard nipples perking up at the coolness surrounding you. You look so cute when you shiver just a teeny bit when his thumb runs over your nipple. River smiles dumbly at you, a breathy little chuckle escaping him. 

“Best merc in all of Night City…” His deft fingertips move towards the waistband of your shorts, tearing them off of you as if they were nothing before stopping abruptly to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. “…And I’m about to fuck her stupid.”

You shiver a little at his words— your cheeks heating up, a familiar burn rising in your lower stomach. And before you can even respond, River’s pushing everything on his desk to the side, sending stacks of paper cascading to the floor, and he’s grabbing your ass again, lifting you up to rest your ass against the cool metal of the desk. 

River lowers himself to your ear— his voice real low. “Gonna take care of you now, pretty girl.” 

His big hands reach for your panties, deftly  tearing them down to your thighs. The air in the office is cool, and you shudder when his warm palms spread your thighs apart. Rough, calloused fingers inch between your legs to your glistening cunt, spreading your folds and slipping his digits into the wetness of your slit, moving up and down, collecting your slick with each little passing movement.

You can’t help the helpless curse that escapes your lips when his thumb slides across your wetness, before pressing it so softly over your now-exposed clit. You reel back with a desperate moan— and you begin to throb. Fuck. Shit. You feel so vulnerable and desperate, your thighs spread open for him on top of his desk, just waiting for his next move as he stares down at you with hunger shining in his eyes. 

River’s literally rock hard at this point, literally aching to be inside of you, but shit, you just look soo soo cute already, and you’re just so fucking needy for him. And all he had to do was call for you. 

River leans down to your level, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around against it, before switching to a soft suckling. His touch is tender— gentle, 

and sends little jolts of lust down your spine.  “F—Feels good…” you whimper weakly. 

He pulls away when you wiggle against him, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips. You exhale deeply, eyebrows knitting together as your hips arch up a little— but you’re growing impatient again. You want, no, you need, more of him. Your core’s literally on fire. You swear, your mind is beginning to fog with nothing but the thought of his dick. You’re just so fucking horny— and he’s refusing to give you what you want. 

You’re about to beg him for more again— but before you can, his hands are on your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the desk so your legs drape off almost entirely. You know what River is about to do when he settles down on his knees between your thighs, his gigantic hands coming up to press them apart against the cool metal. 

River can't help but to stop dead in his tracks for a second to stare at your cute pussy glistening so heavenly in the dim light of his office. Man, it made his night at work actually totally fucking worth it. He was so grateful for his pretty merc, so grateful you allow him to delve between your thighs after a hard day. 

But the way he’s staring down at you sends literal goosebumps across your skin, he’s just enjoying the view for juuuuusstt a second. He can’t help but to admire your glistening cunt— you’re just too damn pretty. 

“Missed this preem pussy of yours, baby…” He sighs against you. “Can’t ever get enough.”

But you’re growing fucking impatient, the way he’s staring at you makes your insides burn and your pretty pussy drips eeeveen more against his desk.  “Stop starin’, hurry up…” 

“Nah,” he laughs. “Wanna enjoy the view first.” He's grinning as he parts your sticky folds with his thumb, rubbing tenderly at your clit with his thumb. 

Your lips immediately fall open with a moan— his breath hot against your throbbing cunt as he gives you the attention you needed for so fucking long. 

He moves up, and this time, he flattens his rough tongue to your dripping slit, sliding all the way up from your drenched hole, excruciatingly slow. Then, as if you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself under control, He folds his tongue up against your puffy clit, looking you dead in the eye. 

And you can’t take it. 

You shiver underneath him, cheeks flushing as you turn your head away to avoid his gaze. But oh, he knows how much he’s embarrassing you, and he loves it. He pulls away from your sopping cunt, his voice switching to a soft coo. “Awww, baby…” He pulls away from you. “Can you look at me, lil’ merc?”

He almost loses it when you peer down him with that cute, innocent gaze of yours when you each for his beefy shoulders, trying so hard to stop your thighs from squeezing around him as he starts slurping at your aching bud. “Good girl… Always followin’ orders..”

You whimper soft curses into the night’s air, his name leaves your lips, and River perks up— letting out a little pleased hum against you. Then, he wraps his beefy ganic’ arm around your hips, holding you close to him as his cold metal fingers brush against your wetness, before sliding into your tight hole. 

A jolt is ripped through you, a whine escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion. You can feel the way his fingers stretch you out with such ease— they’re fucking thick, and long— they reach so so deep inside of you. “Y—You’re reachin’ deep, Riv...” A filthy moan falls from your parted lips. 

And he grins, tapping his fingers faster against your sopping walls. “You’re so fucking needy— s’ cute,” River chuckles.  “You’re just as bad as I am..” he whispers, and begins to drive his digits in and out of your sloppy cunt. Immediately, your back arches— and within seconds, he’s ripping desperate little whimpers from your throat as he renders you fucked dumb with his fingers alone. 

You sob out a little curse—using what little strength you had left from the day to squeeze your thighs around his head. He’s filling you nearly full again, your tightness constricting around his single digit. 

Instead of pushing your thighs away, he embraces it, siding his free hand underneath your ass to guide your tired hips as he presses a sloppy wet kiss to your aching bud, slipping in another finger. This time, you cry out— and you buck your needy hips against his face. 

“Careful now,” River warns, tightening his strong grip on your hips, actually holding your hips down now, “Be nice, baby…” he mumbles between your thighs, growling against your pussy. “Tough it out fr’ me and stay still.”

A little twinge of embarrassment runs down your spine. You truly cannot help it. “Y—Yes sir…” you absent-mindedly moan.  You're barely holding it together. 

“Sir?” River repeats, big fingers are drilling in and out of you, stretching you just so perfectly. “Is that what you’re calling me now?” His digits tap soo deeply inside of you, fucking you harder and deeper than your own ever possibly could.

“Look at you, V… you’re fuckin’ desperate fr’ me. Turned you into my whore again real quick.”

 His words make you fucking throb— and you can’t do anything but whimper incoherent little cries of pure humiliation, and you try to bury your face in your hands as your cheeks burn.  

Your boyfriend, however, immediately catches on to your embarrassmenf. River’s voice lowers to a soft coo—“Didn’t tell you to stop callin’ me that, now did I?” he pulls away from your hole for just a quick second— ceasing his abuse to give your clit a quick little kiss of appreciation, eyes looking up at you as if you were his fucking universe. “Keep at it, lil’ merc. Doin’ sooo good for me.”

And then he begins again, sucking and licking at your poor clit. God, you love him. You’ve always lost your fucking mind whenever River stuffed his big fingers inside of you, it just feels so good. 

Even worse, he’s literally moaning against you, sending little vibrations throughout you. It’s far too much, he’s soo mean, but you couldn’t possibly get enough of the euphoria he’s giving you— you feel like you’re fucking drowning. 

You want to buck your hips against him so so badly, but you know fighting is futile at this point. So, your tired thighs begin to shake beneath him, your drippy pussy already beginning to throb in anticipation of an incoming orgasm. You’re fucked. 

“River— Detective— Sir…” you choke out. “M’gonna… gonna cum.”

He can feel the way your thighs tighten around him, the way your sharp nails start to dig and scratch into his big shoulders. Your cute sloppy cunt is starting to twitch and pulse beneath his licks, and your pretty face starts to twist in pure euphoric bliss. River hums against you, a pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. He knows you’re gonna cum, and he’s being damn-smug about it. 

But oh, he can’t take it. You feel the coolness of his metal hand against your ass, and before you feel inclined to face him, you hear the telltale “ziiip!” and shuffling of fabric as he pulls down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his throbbing, rock-hard cock with one hand, running his ganic hand up and down against his hard shaft. Anything to keep those thoughts of fucking you at bay (for now). 

He’s so fucking mean with the way he’s eating you out, overstimulainng your already sensitive cunt hard. No matter how hard your shaky thighs try to squeeze around his head, he just keeps sucking your clit, shoving his thick fingers in and out of you as your stomach coils and your cunt throbs. You’re cumming. And you can’t help it anymore. 

You’re well-past the point of giving a fuck about how loud you were being. You lose yourself, then. “Give it to me, V,” he groans against you, and his name falls from your lips like a prayer— a mantra. You’re keening into sweet “ah-ah-ah’s” as he slurps at your cunt, repeatedly tapping his big, thick metal fingers inside of you, devouring you whole. 

River’s heart flutters in his chest when he feels your legs begin to shake in his rough grasp as you finally gush all over him. He can’t decide whether to focus on your fucked-out face, looking all cute with your saliva-coated lips forced ajar, your eyes all glossy— or your destroyed, soaked, puffy cunt. 

“Love my messy lil’ merc..” He coos softly in your ear. “Got no idea how proud I am, pretty girl...”

Your cunt squelches and drips onto the desk everytime he pulls his cool metal fingers in and out— fucking you through your explosive orgasm, and you’re just whimpering and moaning so fucking much. He’s forcing electrical shocks down your tired body as he renders you destroyed with his tongue alone. 

But oh, you ache for the way his throbbing cock splits you in two, you miss his little whimpers and groans when your tight, sloppy pussy hugs him tight. 

And suddenly, you’re overcome with the desire for more. 

River continues pumping his veiny shaft in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers as little moans fall from both of you. You squeal when his harsh licks become too much for your overstimulated pussy, yanking your thighs away from his head. 

He stops immediately—pulling himself away from you,  and looks back up at you with his entrancing white mechanical eye with such genuine concern, eyebrows raising as he stares up at you. “You okay, baby?” 

You pant— breaths heaving from your chest, and River rests his head against your plush thighs, looking up at you with concern. You sit there for a minute, panting. Your pussy pulsates and throbs beneath you, and you’re completely and utterly overwhelmed already. But fuck, there’s something else inside of you— and it wants more. No, you need more of him. You ache for his cock. 

You collect yourself— you want him now. “Y—Yeah, m’fine…” you pant. “…Want you to fuck me now, Riv… please,” you pant. 

River grins— a little pleased hum falling from his lips as he presses a little soft kiss to your thigh. “You sure, V?”

“Please, sir…” you whine, wiggling your hips. You truly, genuinely swear you need him inside of you at this point. 

“That’s all you needed to say,” he whispers. With little warning, his metal hand gives your ass a slap, your body jolting with a nasty moan. “Breathe deep for me an’ stay still.”

You just can’t help but to follow his command, allowing yourself to take a deep breath in, bracing yourself against the desk. River’s cock is literally throbbing. He’s been aching to be inside of you since the moment you fuckin’ walked in. He slides his thick cock against against your slick, soaked folds up against your sore, aching clit. He chuckles when you let out a little whimper. But truth is, he’s just as down bad. You’re so fucking wet, so warm— he needs you now. 

You feel his tip prod at your hole again— but this time he’s pressing deeper and he’s giving into what you both want.

Your chest heaves and struggles for air as your glossy eyes stare back into his, whimpering so so softly as River gently begins to roll his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your slit with each slide up, his ganic’ hand resting on your lower tummy to press down, while his metal hand slides up your body to press against your throat.

River’s thickness slides all the way into you until he finally bottoms out. Your mouth falls agape as he knocks the wind from your lungs. He’s fucking big. Thick. Hard. His eyes hungrily trace over your body; observing how your chest rose and fell, your scarred body shaking in his arms; legs trembling as you struggle to take him fully.

And although this definitely isn’t your first time, you briefly struggle to handle his size, and it even aches a little. It’s been too fucking long since he’s filled you like this, and you both know it. “Forgot how—forgot how big you are..” you breathe. 

River, on the other hand, is in heaven. 

You’re literally dripping around him, hole clenching tight around him as his cock struggles to stay still inside of you. His big, beefy arms come down besides you— pinning you down to the desk. “You’re so tight, V. Haven’t been stretched out good in a while, huh?”

You shake your head. His cockhead is literally nudging at your cervix, and it’s making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You feel… good. 

“Think you can handle this dick?” he smiles, and you nod, your eyes fluttering open as 

River’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers coldly pressing up against the sides of your throat as he squeezes. 

“Yes, sir!” you cry out hoarsely. The feeling of his firm fingers pressed firmly against your throat makes you fucking weak— causes you to get eeeeven wetter, and even more fucking desperate for him. 

River is letting out low groans that echoes within the quietness of the room as his hard cock delves into you. He just can’t help himself— his lil merc’s pussy takes him too fucking good, and he can’t help the way his hips rentlessly slam into you.

He’s ripping pathetic, high-pitched whines and whimpers from your lips, loving the way your smaller hands hands grab at his shoulders for dear-fucking-life as he fills you to the very brim, the tip of his leaky cock pressing agaisnt your cervix. It feels… amazing. You can’t help but to be vocal—River’s cock always stretches you out so so fucking well, and there’s even a little ache from the way he stuffs you completely full over and over again, slamming you into the desk with little remorse, just using you like a fucking toy. You’re trying sooooo hard to compose yourself, to keep yourself from sobbing and clawing at him. But oh, you’re such a terrible liar, you’re enjoying him sooo much. 

His dick is literally rock-hard, even beginning to tremble a little bit inside of you, and he has to force his hips to stop. He takes a shaky breath, a low groan falling from his lips, and you can’t help but to just stare at him, his eyed half-lidded, mechanical one dimming softly against the darkness. He’s soooo needy and it's just straight up adorable. He’s literally aching to fuck you stupid, it fucking kills you. But god, it’s just the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit.

A little smug grin forms across your lips as an idea pops into mind. Ever-so-slowly, you begin to move and grin your roll hips back against River’s, fucking yourself back into him the best you possibly could given his huge size. “Thinka— ah—Think you can handle me, Detective?” 

But River’s not having it tonight. Not about to handle shit from his dangerous little doll, not about to let you, the most dangerous merc in Night City, win this one. His hips snap to yours viciously, pulling his thick cock all the way out before pumping it back up to you full-force, filling you to the literal brim over and over again. “Don’t start shit with me now, baby,” River growls. “You were doing sooo well— was bein’ such a good little merc for me..” he coos. 

River’s hand grabs at your hips again and forces hard hits into you. It’s far too much for your little mind to handle, but by god, you loved it.  River can’t get enough of the way your nails dig into his back, the way your legs kick out over and over from underneath him as you struggle to bring yourself to form words. “S—Sorry, Detective Ward..” you sob 

He peels himself off of you, bracing himself internally as his hands move to pry your legs apart as he forces himself even deeper. River’s voice is a deep growl, as if encouraging you to acknowledge the mess he’s making between your thighs. “Guess we know not to talk back now, huh baby?” 

River grins when you cry out little “uh huhs” and hips begin to ram into your ass, big hands digging into your hips for leverage. With each thrust, he’s knocking the air out of your lungs, forcing literal jolts of pleasure to fire from synapses.

Through the tiniest, weakest gasps, and through the soft, wet sounds of River fucking himself into your dripping pussy, you feel like you’ve already been broken in at this point. Purely fucked stupid. Your brain’s beginning to feel like it’s short-circuiting, your core’s on fucking fire. 

You’re totally unaware of yourself at this point as he slams against your ass, uncaring as you let desperate, depraved whiny moans escape your lips. You sound filthy— you no longer care about getting caught, the only thing on your mind is him. Your pussy squelches against the quietness of the office, your nasty moans bouncing off of the walls. All you can do is hiccup little “thankyouthankyouthankyou!!’s” as River stuffs you full, and he loves it. 

“There you go, V. Good girl, givin’ in….finally.”

A gasp escapes you, your pussy clamping down on him as you nod over and over again. But he can’t help but to give you a little chuckle as his ganic hand wraps around the your throat juuuusssttt enough to squeeze a little. And oh, just like that, he’s entirely set you off. Within minutes, he’s fucked the most dangerous merc in Night City into submission. What a fuckin’ achievement that one is. 

You’re so so out of it, mind dumb from the combined pain and pleasure. the wetness of your cunt squelches and drips whenever he pulls out his cock to fuck it deeper. Your slick even drips down his balls— and it drives him fucking crazy.  River is ripping sobs and little hiccups  of pleasure from your throat as he angles his cock deep inside, almost folding you in half, your knees wrapped right around his back to hold him deeper. But fuck, he’s getting loud too. You both are. 

You’re fucked out by your pretty cop boyfriend. You. The most dangerous merc around. It’s a funny fucking thought, almost. Johnny’s gonna lose his shit again after this, but your head is literally spinning, your thighs beginning to tremble against River’s mean thrusts. You feel drunk off of him, and your pussy literally trembles whenever he looks you dead in the eyes as he fucks the life outta you.

 You swear your system is genuinely being overloaded by sheer fucking pleasure. Jolts of electrical euphoria slide down to your best spots over and over again. But there’s a creeping, burning feeling burning up within you, and your body seizes. 

Fuck. You’re already close. Like the obedient merc you are, you warn your detective, even as tears of dumbfound pleasure slide down to your cheeks, even as you struggle to let the words fall from your lips. “C—Close!!” you hiccup. 

“Already, baby? Finishing up so soon?” River teases, and he can’t help but to stare down at you at the absolute, utter enchanting way tears begin to spill from the corners of your eyelids as you try so fucking hard to hold your orgasm back for him, to not let it overtake you even when your tummy coils and you’re forced to heave out your little breaths and moans as he literally fucks the air from your lungs. 

“Riiiivvvvv…” you whine, half-kisses eyes

closing. “Jus.. jus’ lemme finish..”

He can feel the way your juicy pussy attempts to milk him dry, the way your entire whole body shivers and trembles beneath him. River presses a little kiss to your forehead, still driving his hips into yours. “Hang on a little while longer for me, yeah?”

River swears, you look fucking adorable. All spread out beneath him on his desk, your nails desperately scratching at his bare back while you try to wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes are tear-filled and glazed over— your mouth slightly agape. He’s grunting, panting— River feels every little contraction and pulse of your tight cunt around his thick, veiny cock.  can’t hold back for any longer— he needs you to finish.You’re trying sooo hard to hold yourself back, and fuck, it’s adorable—he can’t help but just to tease you a little. 

River hunches over you, getting real close in between his ruthless thrusts and little groans of pleasure, his voice is hoarse— low, as if he’s struggling to keep himself together. 

“Ask nicely, V.”

A twinge of embarrassment shoots down to your core at his filthy demand. At this point, you know you’ve got no choice but to obey. You open your mouth, and let the sinful, filthy words you know he wants to hear slide from your lips, and you sure as hell can’t tell whether you love it or hate him for it. 

 “Please let me cum, Detective,” you whine, your chest beginning to heave as you struggle to hold yourself back from releasing just yet. It’s fucking almost painful the way you’d body convulses and just seizes; he’s just giving you too much pleasure.  “Been s—soo good for you… been takin’ alla you so well…” You babble out, the first tears of pleasure beginning to slide down your puffy cheeks. 

 “I want you, River. Need you now. Need this. Please, just let me—please…” you beg. And River finally gives in, leaning down to press a little kiss to your forehead whilst in the middle of absolutely destroying you. 

And oh, River Ward just couldn’t get enough. 

A little smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face at your debauched little begs. River was always so proud whenever he got to make his lil merc finish— and just fucking looved to hear you beg beneath him. 

“Go ahead, little mercenary, you can cum for me,” River growls, relishing in the way your pussy tightens when he growls deeply in your ear. “N’ don’t hold back on me, sweetheart.”

So you finally heed his command, and finally let go of the insane amount of tension building up within your stomach. Within seconds, you’re gushing against him, pussy constricting impossibly tightly around his dick, and your entire body jolts— your back arches entirely off of the desk as your jaw goes entirely slack. You’re genuinely not able to talk, you’re too fucking absorbed in able to letting the crashing euphoria overtake you. 

“O-Oh, Fuu—ckkk…” River groans, his voice cracking so subtly sweet as he struggles to chase his own orgasm. You’re literally milking him for all he’s worth— and it’s been too long, he’s literally aching to cum, and you know it too. 

You’ve got him whimpering, his head is thrown fowards as he fucks you through his own orgasm. Through your half-lidded eyes, you watch your beloved detective. “Cum inside… please, Riv. N—Need it,” you cry out. 

River chuckles—his  thrusts are animalistic— borderline furious as he drives his hips into yours. “Remember, you asked for it, little mercenary…”

You literally can only watch when River rocks his hips back and forth into you, as if testing how deep he’s claimed his deadly merc. But even with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, even as your sweet detective boyfriend roughly grasps onto the meat of your thigh hard enough to bruise, you notice his hips beginning to falter, slow down, his own thighs beginning to tremble. 

You genuinely swear you catch his eyes rolling back for just a second.

“Fill… me… up,” you pant, and as if on cue, hips finally stop as he presses his weight onto you with a groan— and pushes himself as deep as possible, filling you up to the brim before he shoots velvety ropes inside, pumping you full of of his hot cum.  “Fuck—fuckfuckfuckfuck…” 

It’s just been so so long since’s he’s felt your warm,  pretty pussy clench around him, and he’s thrown over the fucking edge. He can’t bring himself to pull out, not like this, he just needs to enjoy the feeling of you milking him of all he’s worth, he needs you to take every single drop. It’s just been far too long since he’s last felt you like this. Around his trembling, aching dick, you clamp and squeeze against him in like a fucking godsend. He can’t get enough of your pretty pussy dripping all over him, letting him pump your pretty pussy full of his cum. 

You look utterly etheral in the dim glow of his office, naked, fucked-out, panting and heaving with tears of pure, dumb-founded pleasure running down your cheeks from the orgasm he genuinely ripped out of you after sooo long. 

You both sit still, quivering and shaking as you pant and struggle to breathe as you come down from your respective highs. 

Your eyes flutter open when he pulls out of you, a trail of cum sliding from your abused hole down to your ass. His calloused fingers cup your chin so so gently as he slides his overwhelmed cock against your soaked folds, still trying to savor your juices while he still could. 

Another moment of silence passes between you as you sit still for a minute, all spread out and panting. 

“Need you to look at me, V…” he pants, a dumbstruck little smile spreading across his face when you tilt your timid gaze up to meet his, your eyes fluttering open. The pad of his thumb slides across your cheek— and your heart burns with love at his gentle touch. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice shallow, chest heaving a little. “I… I needed that.” 

River's strong hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space left to bridge. You willingly slump against him, finding solace in his warm embrace. 

"I know you did," you reply with a weak smile, your voice reduced to a meek whisper. With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw, your touch conveying more love and appreciation than your words ever could. "I needed that, too."

As you both lay entangled in each other's arms, the dim office around you seemed to fade away. The quiet hum of the city and the eerie darkness disappeared, replaced by the warmth of your long-awaited embrace. In the daring midst of Night City's chaos, you and River had finally reached a moment of peace and solace in each other's arms.

A lingering moment of silence passes, and River finally speaks, his voice raspy and exhausted. "V, let's go home. Can’t fuckin’ stand this office anymore..” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back to gaze longingly into your eyes.

You meet his steely gaze,  your eyes locking with his. “Mhm... was thinkin’ the same thing," you replied with a knowing smile.

River’s strong, reassuring hands lift you off of his lap. With the most gentle and softest of touches, River helps you dress, sliding your clothes back onto your exhausted body. The moment is intimate—filled with an unspoken affection that neither of you dared to disturb. 

….Except for Johnny. 

Your digital companion strikes again, ashing out his cigarette against the concrete.

 “Well… guess the star-crossed lovers are finally on their way out. Enjoy this while you can, V— ain’t gonna last.”

You can’t bring yourself to bitch back right now— the moment between you and River is just too perfect, so you just mentally shrug off Johnny's caustic remark. You knew him well enough to understand that, beneath his shitty cynical exterior, he harbored some form of care for you. 

Johnny's holographic form appeared, leaning against a digital wall as he continued his tirade."I've seen a lot of 'em come and go, these star-crossed lovers," he spits, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. "But you, V, you always manage to surprise me. Guess I should be happy you found someone like River to put up with your crazy ass."

You can’t help but to laugh inwardly, your thoughts projecting to Johnny, "Well, aren't you just a bucket of sunshine today? You know what they say, Johnny, love makes the world go 'round."

He snortes, his cyber visage maintaining its cool composure. "Yeah, love. The most preem emotion in the 'verse, huh?"

Your smirk was evident in your mental reply, "Jealous, Johnny?"

He rolled his virtual eyes, flicking his digital cigarette away. "Nah, I've had my time, V. But for your sake, I hope it lasts."

As you and River reach the exit of the office building, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, knowing that, for now, you have found a love that was worth cherishing, no matter what Johnny or Night City throws your way.

Hand in hand, you and River leave the office behind, heading toward the sanctuary of your shared world—where your love could flourish and bring you the peace you both desperately desired after such a long day. Home was where your hearts truly belonged, a place where you could find solace in each other's arms, where love thrived amid the bleary, unending chaos of the city around you. 

[roseytoesy]

Jades maze mishap

thanks to the work of @dionysusdoctrine I was inspired to write a story using their little prompt. sorry this took so long. Had to get through the rest of finals and travel and packing. Hope you like it!

Running at the size of a rat through a cornfield was exausting. But escaping the Savanaclaw students that had decided to shrink and try and eat a student in the middle of the cornfield was haorrifyung enough to keep them running. Luckily at their small size they were able to scurry between the stalls of corn, quickly loosing the gang of rough student, but then getting very lost themselves. At this rate it might be easier to keep waking until they reach the edge of the maze, but that would take forever and it was starting to get cold.

fortunately, or Unfortunetly, for them they stumbled into another path of the maze, and near the end of it too by the markers! As they stated to walk along the path they forgot that the end is supposed to be a chase, by one of the leech brothers. In their excitement to get out of the constant dark green and brown environment they failed to notice a form looming above them. They shrieked as their tiny body was lifted off the ground by a gloved hand. “well, well. What an interesting specimen I’ve discovered.” A smooth voice hummed as the poor shrunken prefect was lifted higher and higher from the ground. They turned to face their captor and gulped. The sharp fanged mouth and the dark bang on the right side of his face along with the dichromatic eyes was easy enough to tell who had captured them. Jade leech. One of the scariest student on campus due to his mysterious nature and Unnerving habits and conversations. “gah!” They gasped as they were now eye level with the eel-mer. He grinned at the shrunken prefect with his half lidded smirk

“well, well, what a fascinating turn of events~” the vice house warden hummed. “What brings a little morsel like you here?” He chuckled as he eyed the unfortunate prefect.

“I ran into some bad Savanaclaw student who used some potion. To cause this…” they explained.

“how fortunate for me to find you then.” He said smiling a bit wider, revealing his large sharp teeth. “I must say though, it’s quite cold out. Are you alright” he looked down at them knowing the answer from how they shook despite his hands around their frame. They glared at him.

“just put me in your pocket, being small sucks…” they grumbled knowing that they couldn’t stop the leech, whatever he was plotting.

“hmmm, it seems that all my pockets will be insufficient in this weather,” he said showing his thin lab coat for his mad scientist costume. “And I believe that my monster floyd would smell you out easily, you know how… excited he can be when he finds something small and cute.” Jade added squeezing them a bit in his hand to accentuate the word excited. They shuddered and wheezed as they were squeezed a bit. They opened their mouth to speak but jade beat them to it.

“Seems I have nowhere on my person to put you dear prefect,” he sighed sadly. The shrunken students eyes widened and they paled a bit at his next words. “But, I do have one pocket inside my person I can put you.” He added staring at them with obvious hunger in his eyes. They started to squirm in his hold.

"Jade put me down! please!” They begged, “I was just lost!”

“And now you’re found” Jade purred. “I’ll put you somewhere safe until the potion wears off. No need to worry.” He added licking his lips. They shuddered at the thought of where that somewhere safe would be with the eel-mer looking at them with a mischievous hunger in his dichromatic eyes. Just as they started to scream they were flung forward into the dark maw of the leech twin.

He hummed happily around them as their taste blossomed on his tongue, he moved them around drenching every part of them in sticky saliva and exhausting them. At one point they held themselves firmly in place by laying on their back with their legs pushing against the hard pallet above them. "Let me out of here! get me out of your mouth Jade!" They screamed up at him from their strained position.

He chuckled around them at how poorly they worded their request, he hummed what sounded like 'as you wish' before tilting his head back. they let out a screech but didn't move despite the tongue trying to push them down along with gravity. They let out a 'hah!' of victory before something hard and bony hit the back of their knees, causing their legs to colapase and the tonge to pin them to his pallet. They felt their legs get siezed by that same bony somthing that had alot of sharp bits now. They stopped struggleing when the sharp pricks threatened to pierce their skin. They gasped as they were dragged down into the throat by this strange alien-like thing.

Jade swallowed hard and smirked as he felt the poor shrunken soul start their trip down his throat, wiggling all the way down. He traced their journey with his right hand as his left fell to his middle patting the eagerly grumbling organ beneath his skin.

He shuttered and let out a muffled moan into his mouth as his wiggling guest slid into his stomach, stretching it out nicely, but not making any difference to his outward appearance. They imediatly started kicking and punching the soft spongey walls around them, screaming at jade to let them out.

He said nothing as he quickly made his way to a secret spot where he would await maze goers to spook and chase. He sat down on a bale of hay and reclined a bit onto his right hand. his left hand happily rubbing circles into his middle. He stiffled a small burp before speaking.

"rrp, pardon me" he hummed as the pleasent fighting in his core started to settle down. "I don't understand why you are so upset with me, I did as you asked. I removed you from my mouth, and I'm keeping you safe and warm."

"This isn't safe! how in the 7 could it possibly be safe! im in your stomach! I'll be digested, jade! Let me out! please!" they yelled feeling a bit of despair in the darkness around them.

Jade chuckled. "yes you may be in my stomach but you will be safe, Unlike you land folk, stomachs are hard to keep constantly full. So we are able to control our digestion however we please. I don't plan on taking a life today. So relax and enjoy your stay, unless you want to keep wiggling, it does feel oh so wonderful." he explained prodding a bit at the exhausted prefect in his gut.

"i- I'll be safe? you promise?" they asked shifting to get more comfortable.

"I don't make promises, but I'll give you my word that you will receive no harm from any acids while you are inside of me tonight." he reclined to lay on his back. happily humming as his prey squirmed to get comfortable against the walls pressing in on them more due to jade's reclined position.

"rest easy prefect, and happy Halloween week," Jade said closing his eyes to bask in a meal he hoped to have again in the near future.

[apompkwrites]

I just read your story, the one with Xiao and Albedo, its really good! I love it! Is it ok if you do the same thing but with Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe and Diluc version. I can see how excited these guys are since Kaeya first appeared is clapping his hand, the way Childe call Lumine 'Hey Girlie', Zhongli with how handsome he is especially his eyes and with Diluc how mysterious he is when he appeared out of nowhere

Feel free to do it if you're not busy or you can ignore this :3

reader impact || first meeting cont.

series masterlist characters: kaeya, diluc, childe genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: i’m glad you liked it! i’m having a lot of fun writing these so expect some more coming out :D i plan on doing more first meeting hcs and then branching off to other scenarios, so if there’s something specific, please request it! also, i’ve already done one for zhongli!

kaeya's playthrough -

he's more of a variety streamer, honestly.

most of his viewers watch him because of his carefree nature (as well as his looks).

obviously, he'd do a bunch of drinking streams whenever he could where he would just talk to his viewers about whatever came to mind.

during those streams, his viewers often try to ask him questions, which are only answered in vague statements.

his gaming streams are pretty rare compared to his chatting streams, but they're there nonetheless.

his viewers jump when they hear he's planning on playing genshin impact.

just neverending messages about a character they are convinced he will love.

he's so tempted to ask but decides not to, wanting to learn who this mystery character is on his own.

honestly, he was expecting you to appear way later in the story.

he's very interested in the looming threat of stormterror.

his character lands on the ground and he leans back to watch the cutscene play.

then he hears footsteps and sees his character look to someone offscreen.

this man practically LUNGES INTO HIS MONITOR WHEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO YOU.

you walk in clapping at a calculated pace, which is when he leans forward and stares at your character model.

"i can't believe you have the power to stand up against that dragon... that said, are you a new ally... or a new storm?"

"oh, hun, i can be whatever you want me to be."

HE'S ALREADY FLIRTING WITH YOU PLEASE HIS CHAT IS IN HYSTERICS-

he knows his chat is freaking out, so he turns to the camera and sends his signature smirk.

"now i know why you guys wanted me to play this so bad."

"(name), kaeya, you've come at the right time. we must..."

"now now, don't forget to introduce us."

"oh... right. this is (name), our cavalry captain. these two are travelers from afar."

"ooh, they're a person in charge, too?"

HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING TO HIS CHAT BUT THEY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU DO TO HIM.

he genuinely likes you. like genuinely. he's fallen deep and he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

if your costume has that long v-neck like his does...

hOO BOY HE'S THANKING EVERY DEVELOPER OF THIS GAME.

anyway, he's heard that there are characters you can only obtain throguh wishes, so he's kind of nervous to find out if that's the case with you.

he just really wants you in his party so y'all can be mysterious together.

"let me show you how the knights of favonius conquer our adversaries!"

"oh, yes. please do."

his viewers can and will make compilations of him flirting with you.

ngl, he's looking forward to those.

sometimes, your voice gets all quiet and he melts when he hears that.

he will pay to have voicelines of you flirting with him--

when he enters your trial domain, he will purposely avoid completing it just in case he doesn't get to keep you.

he sees some of his viewers talking about how you're a bad character and that the other characters are so much better.

too bad, they're banned now.

no (name) slander in his chat, thank you very much.

he loves your quips whenever he uses your elemental skill.

he loves you even more if those quips are puns based on your element.

finally, he's nearing the end of your domain. when that happens, he will slowly turn towards the camera and stare.

"if they aren't a permanent member on my team, this'll be the last stream of genshin."

"let's continue our adventure, shall we?"

obtained (name): a thinker in the knights of favonius with a somewhat exotic appearance.

"okay, so we'll continue streaming genshin soon."

he'll put you in the first slot of his party, moving his traveler character to the second.

his streams will always include him flirting with you, even if you don't reply.

diluc's playthrough -

his streams are mainly bartending based, so he likes mixing drinks on stream for his viewers.

he doesn't drink them, though. he gives them out to his friends and family once the stream is over.

it's pretty rare for him to play games but he'll do an occasional gaming stream if his friends and family don't want any drinks.

his chat always makes fun of him because he's a bartender that doesn't like the taste of alcohol.

he's very blunt, so he's not afraid to drop a game immediately if he isn't interested.

in fact, that's almost what he did with genshin.

it's not like the game is bad or anything, diluc just didn't care for it because of all the hype his chat shared.

he keeps playing, though, because someone promised he would really enjoy a character that comes up in the prologue.

granted, it's over an hour or so but it doesn't matter--

when he gets to the domain teaching him how to use cryo, he hates every minute of it.

he hates the character he's given and just wants to leave.

the demo character is one he doesn't really care for, especially because he's the type of person he dislikes coming to the bars he works at.

his chat is laughing at him when they reach the end because the cutscene continues with the character he hates.

he feels a bit better when he learns the abyss mage is in the domain because he gets to see and hear something that isn't the cryo character.

then he meets you.

you run into the domain out of nowhere, quickly defeating the abyss mage and tossing it towards the corner.

"knights of favonius... always so inefficient."

his chat goes insane when your character appears, especially because of how dumbfounded diluc looks.

he's known for not really emoting and it's the same case for this scene. however, his chat knows he is in love with your character.

he takes a few minutes when he's kicked out of the domain but he clears his throat and looks over at the camera.

"i'll be streaming this game again soon when the others don't want any drinks."

YOU SINGLEHANDEDLY SAVED THIS GAME FROM BEING TOSSED AWAY WITHIN A MINUTE OF APPEARING

THE POWER YOU HOLD OVER THIS MAN AND HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME--

cut to after he's stolen the lyre and is sent to the tavern.

he's a bit excited because he gets to visit mondstadt's tavern but then--

"master (name), this is this week's accounts."

"they're back."

HE'S SO NONCHALANT BUT WE ALL KNOW HE'S FREAKING OUT

he gets second-hand embarrassment when venti talks to you asking for the... least conspicuous table.

he's kinda sad when your character is suspicious of him, but he understands.

when the knights leave the tavern, he really wants venti to just shut up.

please you're embarrassing the man.

when he hears how you feel about him joining the knights, he is so willing to quit--

man just wants you to be proud of him and trust him :((

he's relieved to hear that you will help him and you don't hate him.

please give him validation--

childe's playthrough -

man is still rich he can do whatever he wants.

his gaming streams would definitely be pvp based games. honestly, just any game where he can fight someone, he'll play.

his chat also has a few little games they like to play together like guessing what the hell this man does to have so much money--

also his siblings crash in on his streams sometimes :D

those are pretty much the only times you'll see him be soft and not so competitive.

teucer likes crashing his streams to show off his plushies :))

anyway, genshin time!

he definitely tried to fight paimon the first time he loaded the game.

please expect lots of genshin stream from this guy because he needs to make his team deal the highest damage he can get.

also his wallet doesn't even have a dent in it despite all of the money he's spent on characters and weapons.

please sir what do you do for all that money

ok so onto your first meeting

he was really excited when the exuvia fell during the rite of descension because he thought he would get to fight whoever killed the great archon of liyue.

he really wanted to fight the millelith but then his chat convinced him to dodge them first.

one of his viewers explains that there's a character they know he'll like and he was very... intriguied to say the least.

he moves forward in his chair once his character is heard by the millelith, prepared to fight the various soldiers surrounding him.

"hang on, sweetheart. i've got this."

this man will squeal when you flip over the stairs in front of his character.

he doesn't know who you are and what you do but he knows for a fact that you are his new favorite character.

you take down all of the guards in two seconds, leaving him (and his in-game character) dumbfounded.

"come with me."

"o-okay..."

he's smitten.

he absolutely loves the way your character fights even if he met you about... a minute ago.

his siblings definitely come into his room to check on him because he's so quiet.

once he realizes you're a part of the harbingers, he's even more obsessed.

he hates the options the game gives him when he needs to respond because 2/3 of them are insulting you.

anyway he really likes listening to your voice.

he will give anything to hear you call him sweetheart again.

his chat informs him that the traveler he chose changed the nickname you give him, which makes him very happy.

when you send him off to talk to the other adepti, he's kind of disappointed he doesn't get to hang out with you.

but when he gets back to you...

"welcome back, sweetheart. how was your trip to jueyun karst?"

HE'S SOFT ALL OVER AGAIN PLEASE KEEP CALLING HIM SWEETHEART!!!

when he learns you're rich just like him... he gets all pouty. his chat, of course, wants to know why.

"... i want to be able to spoil her."

PLEASE HE'S SO IN LOVE WITH YOU <3

[sukirichi]

earned it [04]

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

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn���t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly,  “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna​ @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo​ @evesmores​ @ambiguous-something​ @lilith412426​ @kakashiharusohma @aizawap​ | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

[feliix]

Perfect Score ↠ Han Jisung

↠ Jisung x Reader (feat. Felix)

↠ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fake Dating!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 14.9k

↠ Summary: As you return home to work at your local coffee shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of love, but it’s Jisung’s mission to make you change your mind in just two weeks time.

↠ Warnings: idiots 2 lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, language, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships

“That's disgusting.”

You grimace in the most subtle way as you watch the man across the shop press a gentle kiss on the cheek of the woman next to him. For some reason your shop is packed with couples this evening. Not that you’ve been counting, but they’re probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this just this shift alone. 

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t too far from the truth. Every time you’ve been burned by someone in the past has only made your hope about love deteriorate. Relationships suck. Already been there, done that, and you don’t plan on doing it again.

You’ve always stuck by the same theory; relationships either lead to heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage may still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jisung laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner. He’s just in time to catch your snide remark, surely it won’t be the last one you’ll make tonight though. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy to say the least. The sun has already set, and it’s the afternoon rush when everyone comes in for their second daily dose of caffeine. And it’s definitely necessary – especially on a day as hot and exhausting as this one. It’s the third day that its been over 100º in a row and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Jisung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath. In your mind it absolutely isnt. Its a mystery why all these people need to publicly display their affection in a coffee shop anyway...

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss has always been kind of an asshole, just leaving 2 kids in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. There's always been an aching suspicion that he just goes to the bar across the street, since his car is still parked behind the shop but he’s always nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than him looming over your shoulder and criticizing your technique the whole shift.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jisung shakes his head.

In stark contrast to yourself, Han Jisung is quite the hopeless romantic. So much so that he tends to search for love in all the wrong places. Maybe a better way to describe it is that Jisung has a series of flings. He’s not shy to test the waters of any girl he comes across – and there are many, many waters that he’s tested. Lucky you gets to hear all about each one, being his friend and all.

But to your good friend’s demise, his ‘relationships’ never end up working out for very long. Theres always some kind of fatal flaw that’s a means to an end. Whether it was Jisung’s fault or the girls,  it’s always confused you why he could never hold onto something longer than a couple months. Jisung is a great guy, it didn’t make sense.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left. The night has been dragging on since you stepped foot in the door and heard the little jingle as it opened. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d only made it through half your shift thus far.

“Just under an hour. Want to start the closing checklist so we can get outta here?” Jisung offers, reaching for the rag and sanitation bucket at the end of the counter.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave no later than at 8 o’clock on the dot. 

Luckily, closing tonight goes as smoothly as it possibly can. You and Jisung are ready to get out of there at 8 on the dot, thanks to your determination to mop like a mad woman and stock the front as fast as humanly possible. 

The air outside feels crisper than usual. Maybe its because you’ve been locked up in a small room that smells like coffee beans for 10 hours, but you’ll never get enough of the night air. 

“So what are we doing tonight?”Jisung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was planning on going home and getting some rest…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. Jisung always goes out after your weekend shifts and never lets up on convincing you to tag along. So you can’t look at him, his eyes are much too convincing make contact with, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Gah you’re so boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot to ruffle the hair on top of your head, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, smoothing down your hair as a pout forms on your lips. The suggestive smirk settling across Jisung’s face is telling; he knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to turn him down or fish for another excuse. So you tilt your head, subtly rolling your eyes as you wait for him to explain what his big plans for tonight are.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

Accepting defeat, you shoot him a thumbs up before turning to get into your car. Asking any more questions would take away any time you had to wash up – and smelling like coffee beans any longer is going to drive you up a wall since it hasn't already.

It doesn’t take much time for you to rush home and get ready, and before you know it Jisung is there to pick you up. Only a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course and right on time in Jisung terms. 

The car ride to your destination feels like a blur with how exhausted you are. So when you end up at your favorite boba spot, you immediately perk up. Those tapioca pearls always manage to give you a second wind.

But when Jisung decides to take a seat at one of the round tables just outside the shop instead of getting back in the car you know somethings up. You were expecting to hop back in the passenger seat of his car, maybe listen to some music for a while and drive around to kill time. 

Initially he doesn’t say much. His legs just bounce hyperactively while he fidgits with the straw of his drink. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up; his eyes staring down at the cup in front of him instead of sipping from it, lip caught between his teeth.

The energy is off. Not only did you expect to hang out and do something adventurous like Jisung normally would, but now you’re watching his cheeks grow red while avoiding conversation.

Awkward silence becoming too much to bear, you take matters into your own hands. “So how are things going with that girl?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “she didn’t really work out.”

Unsurprised by his response, you just nod along. Its always to expect since he’s the pickiest person you’ve ever met. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that didn’t like cheesecake. There always seems to be a laundry list of deal-breakers tied along to each one of Jisung’s relationships, and that is something you’ll always expect.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, and you’ve never understood the point of to putting all your effort into something like that. There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyebrows furrowing in response, hands gripping his thighs in anticipation

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are kind of just a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway, Y/N?”

Now thats a response that you are not prepared for. The question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Jisung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and just answer his question, as uncomfortable as it is. 

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your cup once again.

“Not every guy is a dead-beat.”

His words carry a harsh bite to them, almost as if he finds you’ve said offensive. It burns his ego a bit, assuming that you’re grouping him in with all the guys you’ve been with in the past. Which is strange, Jisung should know that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You aren’t able to talk to guys, or most people for that matter, in the same way that you talk to Jisung. He’s the one you rant about all the assholes to. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence his expression changes, Jisung’s eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you haven’t seen very often, and you can’t say that you’ll ever get used to it. 

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Jisung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words fall from his tongue, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle slips past his lips. Instinctively your stomach tightens, the air around you now feeling a bit heaver each second time ticks on. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do? I think it could be fun.”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “if it works then I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Jisung. And Jisung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your boba from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“Wait, you're like dating dating the Han Jisung?” Felix’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on his face as you spill about your night with Jisung.

Felix is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Jisung of course. Not that he shares the hatred himself, he’s just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know just how you felt. He’s only heard about it every day for the past several summers.

Felix is your best friend, other than Jisung of course. He’s also the only person in this world that you could bear to work with on a Saturday morning. 

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the containers on the counter. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday morning, only a handful of customers have come in so far and it's already 11 am.

That’s the thing about working at a coffee shop – and it sucks when it's busy, and it sucks even more when it's slow. At least it isn't a terrible job, you at least have Jisung and Felix to keep you company and that's always worthwhile.

“And for the record,” you turn to look at Felix, a grin still evident on his face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind about the love stuff.”

“You know how Jisung is,” his eyebrow lifts, “so you never know. Maybe something could happen.” 

If anyone was surprised that you were dating someone, fake relationship or not, it would be Felix. On top of that, you’re dating Han Jisung. As in, the same Jisung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled too much like peaches’ and it was ‘too good to be true.’ And now that you’re the one stuck with him for the next 14 days, it is only a matter of time until he finds the deal-breaking trait that turns him away from you.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. If I know Jisung, he’ll be over it before the 2 weeks even ends.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of his voice is raised teasingly. You can tell he doesn’t believe this will be just a ‘two-week thing’ by the funny little look on his face. You hate that look, and you hate how Felix always seems to be right.

Subsequently Felix sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You’ve grown up with Jisung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Felix, on the other hand, has a different point of view. 

He’s not in it like you are, so gets to see the way Jisung looks at you; the way he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth with a sparkle in his eye. He notices that Jisung longs to make you laugh. And he watches the toothy grin each that grows on your face each time a chuckle breaks through your lips. Felix notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is he to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in his mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the clean marble countertop beside you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Jisung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this. 

The lack of customers and silence that's fallen among the shop is just making it easier for your mind to wander off. It was beginning to make you sick how much you were thinking about Jisung and nothing has even happened yet. It's not like you have any reason to be nervous, but keeping all these thoughts trapped in your thick skull is starting to give you a headache

“He’s picking me up after work.” You blurt it out without thinking much about it. No one is here, you might as well lay it all out there for Felix to know since there's nothing better to do.

“He’s picking you up? Like you’re going on a date?”

“Shut upppp,” your eyes roll at his teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy the thought of this ‘date’ is making him, and you for that matter. It’s just Jisung. And you are just hanging out like you do every other night. There's nothing different about tonight and you’ll be able to prove that to yourself and Felix by the next time you see him.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Felix. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Jisung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Jisung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8 pm.  What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Jisung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Jisung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Jisung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his smile to light up the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the espresso stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth nervously.

Tonight he’s dressed a lot nicer than usual comfy attire; a nice shirt with a pair of dark jeans that hug his slim figure. His hair is a lot lighter too – a vast change from the midnight black strands that normally frame his face. He’s really going all out for this thing – and right now all that you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front.

When you look to your right, Felix is just as stunned as you are. Frozen in his spot as his jaw practically sweeps the floor, he looks at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised as a smug expression crosses his face. For a second you contemplate asking him if he’s all set to finish the closing checklist on his own, but before you’re able to speak up he’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, Jisung hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“So do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips, followed by a slight pull on your heart strings. Knowing he took the time to think about bringing you something else to wear so you didn’t have to sit in your coffee scented clothes all night made you feel warm in the strangest way. He’s thoughtful, and it's weirding you out – but in a good way.

“So, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

A vague yet interesting, and very on-brand response from Jisung. He’s always been a fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination drags on forever. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between your agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time. All you know is that you’ve been driving along the backroads of your area for at least 15 minutes, and there is nothing around you to indicate that your destination is near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing a very good job at their primary function. It's pretty hard to see what’s around you, no matter how hard you squint and press your forehead to the window to get a better look.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Jisung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jisung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that  leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Jisung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Jisung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Jisung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Jisung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

But it’s just Jisung. Jisung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Jisung and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Jisung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Jisung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Jisung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the coffee shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Felix teases, letting his chin fall into his palm as he leans on the counter before him, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Jisung chuckles at his nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told Felix all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Jisung felt like the odd man out when you’re all together.

“It was good.”

Jisung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to his imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell – or to not kiss and tell. Keeping his private life all to himself is something he takes pride in, things are just better that way.

“Just good?” Felix challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. His eyes narrow as he waits for his response. You haven’t told him anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end, which left Felix dying to know what actually happened on your ‘date that wasn't a real date.’

Jisung glances back at him, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans. It would be kind of nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this may be the one secret that you don’t know of.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Felix. Not that Jisung would ever want to pry, there's just no indication of how you feel about last night, or about him. Before Jisung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Felix’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – he knows something.

“You like her don’t you,” he muses, rubbing his hands together smooths as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now – and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but it's clear as day to Felix – and that is more than enough to make Jisung worry.

“I don’t,” Jisung denies the other boy’s claim, his willpower too strong to give in.

“Oh yeah? So why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

The words catch Jisung off guard; his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny the claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Felix is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Jisung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you. None of the girls he’s ever met could ever match up to all that you are. In his mind, you held the perfect score, and no one else had ever come close.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know.”

There's no way he’s that obvious... Did his feelings show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Jisung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Felix will follow up with a ‘just kidding’ or change the subject. Only the silence that falls on the room is enough of a response for Jisung to get the clue. 

“Just please don’t tell her,” he avoids eye contact with the other boy, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered tile. “I just wanted to see if I could change her mind – about the love stuff, you know?”

The second you find out about Jisung’s feelings all bets would be off. There’s no way you’d let your little arrangement continue, not if either of you could end up hurt. And he knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, it was a deal between two friends. The second feelings get involved, everything gets all mushy and confusing, and Jisung can’t lose you.

Felix bears his weight on the counter behind him, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “Believe me, I want her to be done with that ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” he sighs, looking around momentarily before he clears his throat. “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat once the words leave Felix’s mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers his thoughts. His stomach begins to twist as he considers it, almost confused about what Felix means, but not willing to accept it. You only agreed to fake-date him, you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Felix watching him as his lips roll between his teeth, deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in Jisungs head like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, all for the right reasons of course. So that you don’t  have to be so miserable about it anymore. 

But behind those selfless reasons are several smaller, selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too. It’d be crazy to ignore the feeling he has deep in his chest, and maybe it's a sign not to.

“Like you think…” Jisung gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Felix gives is ominous, but the raise of his eyebrows and toothy grin forming on his face needs no words to tell. 

If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Jisung.

That night Jisung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you could remember it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Jisung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped a cup of iced coffee on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave it there without cleaning anything up or letting you know. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and there were coffee stains stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Jisung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Jisung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got. 

It’s been 12 days since you became Jisung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night when two frappuccinos splattered all over the shop floor, whipped cream and all. Spending time with Jisung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Jisung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Jisung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Jisung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Jisung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Jisung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N,” Felix says waving a hand in your face.

You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Jisung?”

“What?” you immediately straighten your posture and brush yourself off before responding, “N-no…I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from his lips, not sparing you any time to save yourself as he turns away, beginning to wipe off the tables in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Felix out of the loop during this whole “fake-boyfriend Jisung” thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Felix the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. And what if all these things that you’re feeling is just a part of the honeymoon-phase. If that even existed anyway… But if all these feelings for Jisung are due to him trying to woo you and change your mind, everything will just fade away as things return back to normal. And then you’ll be left loving him in silence while you watch him blow through relationships like a leaf blows through the wind.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Felix for him to know. Every time Jisung picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide he’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Felix’s eyes. He knows you too well to look over things like this, he just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Felix has decided to take matters into his own hands, asking you about it himself.

“Felix,” you start, waiting for his attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit. Quickly he does, a questioning but knowing look evident on his face as the stool squeaks under him. “You know how this thing between Jisung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

He nods in response, his hand quickly falling into his palm as he listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

His question is more for clarification, he wants to hear you say it yourself. Felix knows that you’re gonna tell him that you’ve already caught feelings. He sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at him. You can feel the grin on his face. You know he's smirking at you right now, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you over the ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face him.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Felix hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on his face can't grow any larger, but it does. He jumps up from his chair in victory, doing a funny dance with his arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Felix smiles, his happy dance subsiding as he positions himself back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring sounding off on each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the boy sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Felix is your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Jisung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be. Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face and falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles. 

A sympathetic sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face him – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank god it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like  

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Jisung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something. 

It’s not until Felix is rising from his seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Jisung...” he starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Felix is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. He can’t speak for you; but he’s scared that saying nothing could just make this whole situation worse.

His mouth gapes as he searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing while he hums to himself.

The umbrella hanging from Jisung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Felix as he jumps at the sudden sound. But before he is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Jisung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Jisung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Felix. He’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an coffee shop. 

After Jisung left, Felix came back and let you know; he almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let him in. He told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Jisung, it hurts enough just thinking about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Jisung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Jisung for god’s sake. He’s your personal diary, he’s the one who knows all the shit that nobody else does. And he’s the only one that listens to all the dumb shit you have to say that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Jisung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Jisung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Jisung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Jisung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Jisung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Felix standing there with an umbrella in his hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

Suddenly, he pushes past you and invites himself into to your living room. Plopping down on your couch, Felix makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to him, plopping down on the next cushion over.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as he hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Jisung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves his lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was he giving it to you, why is he here, and why did he have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” He says sternly, his eyes locked on you as he waits for you to look back at him. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Jisung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Jisung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth gently, a sigh following it before he reaches for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Felix you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to Jisung. You most definitely want to – and if you could, you would. But you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” he sighs, this time more forceful, like he’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.” Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” he mumbles, his eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped. Eyes wide with confusion, you’re begging him to go on, but if he does then Jisung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. It's not up to Felix to tell you what he knows this time. 

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” he stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Felix is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Jisung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces. 

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Jisung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are  no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Jisung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind. 

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Jisung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times. 

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Jisung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way. 

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story. 

Jisung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Jisung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never prys.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him. 

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen. 

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate. 

“Jisung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say. 

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape. 

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Jisung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop. 

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price. 

“Y/N I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Jisung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Jisung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips. 

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration. 

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Jisung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Jisung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten. 

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this. 

Slowly, Jisung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts. 

In a leisurely motion, Jisung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Jisung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his. 

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Jisung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body.  Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Jisung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him. 

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen eachother naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Jisung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.” 

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?” 

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Jisung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Jisung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Lucily, Jisung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down. 

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Jisung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more. 

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. 

In one swift motion, Jisung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction. 

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else. 

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Jisung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Jisung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it. 

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips. 

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched. 

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Jisung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out. 

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Jisung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Jisung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Jisung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Jisung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full. 

You’ve always felt close to Jisung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Jisung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still holding confidence; his tone never falters.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Jisung.”

Being in love is a dumb concept. All guys suck, relationships are stupid and love is a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Jisung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right infront of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

‘Perfect Score’ is copyright 2020-2021 @chaangbin, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous BTS fic Crush Culture.

[starlightments]

                                     PREVIEW: part one

    The Galra, a hostile nation of magic-wielders, have finally been banished from the kingdom’s borders. The war is over, once and for all. The Crown City is more determined than ever to re-establish peace to its people when a mysterious boy is discovered in the outlands. Keith is taken under the wing of the Royal Guard, where he is to be groomed for knighthood, but his inherent and untamed magical abilities have branded him a threat, alienating him from the only family he’s ever known — until he meets Lance, a rambunctious young prince in search of a playmate.     But as the boys grow older and feelings grow stronger, their days of childhood whimsy evolve into a deeply unshakeable bond; one that is soon tested by rumors of a Galra counterattack and perhaps even a state-mandated betrothal to assuage political tension. Now, with both hearts and lives on the line, the two lovers find themselves at a complicated crossroads: duty or desire?  

Language: English  |  Rating: TBD  |  Art Credit: here  

FANDOM: Voltron: Legendary Defender

GENRE: Royal AU, childhood friends-to-lovers

PAIRING(S): Keith/Lance

                                                     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  A flash of light comes blazing through the half-parted curtains, followed by a violent clap of thunder that rattles the floorboards and, consequently, startles the young prince awake.

  Lance sits up with a gasp, clutching at the elaborately embroidered duvet, keeping it tucked under his chin for protection. The bedroom goes pitch black again, save for the bluish glow of a star-shaped nightlight in the corner, but the storm continues to rage outside. He can hear rain beating behind his window and the blustery sway of tree branches as they scrape up against the glass like fingernails.

  “Marco,” Lance whispers into the darkness. His brother remains fast asleep, snoring softly, on the other side of the room. “Marco.”

  Still no response. Lance spends a moment rooting around under the covers for his raggedy stuffed lion, then squeezes it close to his chest as he scuttles over to his brother’s bed and shakes him urgently by the shoulder.

  “Go away,” Marco grumbles into his pillow.

  “But the noises!” insists Lance. “What if it’s a—”

  “It’s not a monster, it’s just a storm. Quit being such a baby.”  

  Lance puffs up at that, bottom lip jutting out with defiance. He’s fully prepared to remind his brother that he turned seven last month — and is, therefore, no longer a baby by any means, thank you very much — when another loud noise cries out in the dead of night; except this time it’s unlike the rumbling thunder and howling winds. It’s a mighty whoosh of the front doors being flung open downstairs. Wet footsteps slapping against the marbled foyer. Low, angry-sounding voices.

  “Marco,” says Lance, shaking him again. “I mean it, I think there’s something—”

  “Cut it out, Lance,” Marco says, and then swats at the younger boy’s hand with an agitated grunt before rolling away to face the wall.

  But the noises persist. If anything, they’re only getting louder, more conspicuous, and Lance’s curiosity is not so easily brushed aside. So, bracing himself, with his trusty lion in tow, he pads across the room and pokes his tiny head through the door.

  Across from him, Lance’s older sister is doing the exact same thing, peering furtively down the dimly-lit corridor in a satin nightgown, her hair done up in curlers.  

  “Ronnie—”

  “Shh!” she hisses at him, a finger pressed to her lips in warning. “It’s Papa.”

  Lance’s mouth parts into a bewildered little ‘o’ shape as Veronica proceeds to slink out of her room and toward the staircase. At the opposite end of the hall, he spots Coran, the royal family advisor, where he appears to have dozed off in the middle of watch duty again, slumped over in a chair, his big orange mustache wiggling with every exhale, and so Lance decides to tiptoe after his sister.  

  The Citadel’s east wing is a winding labyrinth of passageways and gilded alcoves, but the further they creep into its bowels, the clearer the commotion becomes. One of the many chamber doors has been left slightly ajar, a strip of lamplight pouring out from the gap, along with their father’s voice, hushed and stern.

  “—What on earth were you thinking, Takashi?”  

  They both scamper up to the door, peeking inside. It’s a thin opening, just barely enough space to make out glimpses of shifting bodies: their father paces around a large wooden conference table, his brow drawn tight, while Shiro, in contrast, stands perfectly still like the soldier he was born to be. There’s a small boy hovering at his side in tattered clothes, similar to Lance in size, and his face is obscured by a curtain of damp fringe.  

  “I found him in the outlands, alone, with nowhere to go and no way to survive,” Shiro answers firmly. “That’s what I was thinking, your Majesty.”

  “You should know better,” the king fires back. “After everything that’s happened, you, of all people, should know better than to invite danger into this household.”

  “He’s not dangerous,” says Shiro. “He’s a child.”  

  “No, he’s Galra.”

  At that, Veronica inhales a sharp breath, then immediately clamps a hand over her mouth. Lance is startled, too, but only because he knows he should be. Only because he’s heard grown-ups murmur that word when they think no one is listening, like it’s something terrible and blasphemous. This boy right here looks like neither of those things.  

  Through the crack, Lance can see Shiro lift his arm; the mechanical one. “And so am I, now,” he states. “The very magic that this kingdom fears, the very magic that’s now a part of me, is what saved my life.”    

  A pause. “That’s different,” the king growls. “It was our only option.”  

  “Well, pardon me, your Majesty, but then what is his only option?” argues Shiro, pointing at the boy. “Death?”  

  “Death,” Lance echoes, scandalized, his grip on his stuffed lion tightening. He reaches for his sister’s ruffled sleeve and tugs. “Ronnie, did you hear that, he just said—”

  “Lance,” she shushes, “be quiet or they’ll hear—”  

  The sudden halting of footsteps lets them know they’ve been caught. But before either of them can think to run, the chamber doors are being swung open wide and their father’s long shadow is looming from above. His expression, however, has been transformed into one that Lance recognizes; gentle and warm.

  “Aha,” he chuckles. “I thought I heard some little mice scurrying around these halls.” Swiftly, the king scoops Lance up into his arm and takes Veronica’s hand with the other. “Back to bed, you two. What would your mother have to say if she knew you were up this late, hm?”

  Shiro, in the background, says, “Your Majesty, I—”

  “We will finish this discussion in the morning, Captain Shirogane,” the king replies tersely. He doesn’t even turn halfway to meet the other man’s eyes. “Right now, I have a family to take care of.”

  “Yes,” mutters Shiro, nodding. “Understood.”

  As Lance clings to his father, peering curiously over the top of his shoulder, he discovers that the strange Galra boy is staring at him with the darkest, saddest eyes that Lance has ever seen in his life. It makes Lance’s skin tickle, being looked at like that.

  So, he waves.  

  The boy freezes in place for a moment, but eventually waves back, looking a bit ashamed, as if he’s not sure whether he should be doing it. When he does, though, Lance notices that the skin of the boy’s palm is covered in black calluses, almost charred straight through to the bone.

  It’s the last thing Lance sees — and the only thing he’ll think about, later, tucked away in bed — before his father rounds the corner and carries him out of sight.

[avintagekiss24]

the forest > bucky barnes

|| pairing: bucky barnes x black!reader

|| word count: 11,557

|| warnings: language words, smut, sex, sex pollen kinda, animal transformation, grumpy bucky, angst/horror?, fae/faries, fairy tale vibes

|| challenge: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge - Werewolf AU - You have been lost in the forest due to a curse that won’t let you leave.

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ SSB2020 I3: “This is not what it looks like”

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo​ K2: Survival in the wild

|| summary: You wake up in a strange, magical place. All alone, you start to walk and find that you aren’t the only one wandering the trees.

|| link: ao3

|| note: i don’t know why i’m nervous to post this, but i am! forgive me, my brain gets the best of me sometimes. i hope you guys enjoy this - despite the posting anxiety, i did enjoy weaving this little tale. i just hope it all makes sense :)

line dividers by writeyourmindaway!

Your feet are blistered and bloody. You’ve been walking for hours. Your throat is dry, your eyes puffy and swollen; watery. Your sundress is tattered and ripped and you don’t know why. You can’t remember. You don’t know where you are, why you’re here, or how you ended up in this place - but the fear sitting in your belly is the only thing keeping you moving.

It’s dense here. Thick, green, lush trees and shrubs line the dirt path that you walk on. Sun rays peek through the treetops, but because they’re so thick, the trees, it looks like a dark day; a muted day. You can hear birds chirping, little bugs buzzing around, even spot a butterfly or two. It’s beautiful - but ominous. Like there’s danger lurking just around the bend. 

You hear crackling in the distance - leaves being crunched, twigs being broken - and you freeze, snapping your head towards it. You swallow hard as you zero in on the noise, everything else going silent around you. You clutch the hem of your dress in your hand, as it’s the only tangible thing that makes any of this real, and just listen. Your heart beats loudly in your ears. A bead of sweat slips down the side of your face. Your breath is shallow.

The crackling stops. You wait for a beat or two, blinking slowly, listening hard, and then you start moving again - trying to find something, someone… anything. You nervously continue to play with the hem of your dress as you pad through this still forest, the soft dirt squishing through your toes. The sound of water soon hits your ears, soft and rippling, and just at the end of the path, there’s a small bank leading to a quiet little river. 

You quicken your pace, stepping into the grass, and then the wet sand before you fall to your knees and dip your hands into the water. You splash your face, once, twice, three times, before dipping your hands back into the surprising cool liquid, cupping them to collect a small amount. You bring it to your lips to drink, slurping it in haste as your thirst overwhelms you. Handful after handful, you bring the small offering of water to your lips, barely finishing the gulp before thrusting your hands back in the water.

You’re so consumed with the cool liquid that you don’t even hear the crackling of the leaves behind you. You drop your hands back into the water as you lift your eyes to the other side of the bank slowly. Your breath goes shallow again as you blink rapidly, now acutely aware that you’re being watched by someone, or something. You swallow hard and let your lips part as you turn your head, peeking over your shoulder - and suddenly, you’re face to face with a large, white wolf. 

Your chin starts to tremble as fear paralyzes you. The animal’s eyes are a piercing blue as they stare back at you. Its head is low, ears laid back on its head. Its nose twitches as it sniffs at the air, but it never takes its eyes off of you. It lowers its head to the ground, sniffing at the footprints you left behind before it lifts its gaze to you again. 

It takes a step towards you, slowly, and then another, and another. You don’t move -  you can’t. You just start to tremble as it closes the distance between you, a single tear slipping down your cheek as your eyes cloud over with water. It gets nose to nose with you, blinking slowly as it starts to sniff you. You let out a sob as it pushes its nose into your hair, breathing you in. It lets out a hard breath, tossing your hair with it before it tilts its head towards the sky and howls loudly. 

You jump and gasp at the sudden burst of noise as it rocks through the forest. Birds flock from the trees as more howls from somewhere deep in the trees, making you snap your head towards the chorus, your chest now heaving. 

“You’re quick,” a deep voice sounds, making you snap your head back again, “Took me hours to track you.”

The wolf is suddenly gone, now replaced with a very tall, blonde, blue eyed, naked man. Your eyes go wide as you scramble back into the water. You blink furiously, pushing more hot tears down your face as your mind starts to race. You shake your head as your face breaks, finally giving into the confusion and fear that’s motivated you for most of the day. The man kneels and tilts his head as he watches you, his eyes still searching as if he isn’t quite sure of you.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, holding out his hand, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you cry openly, “I don’t - I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, I’ll explain it to you on the way. Come.”

He wiggles his fingers, trying to coax you out of the water. You shake your head again frantically, dragging in a breath, nearly choking on it, “Please, I just, I want to go home. Please.”

“Come.” He says again, his voice still soft- still calm. 

“No, please let me go. Please.” You beg.

The man sighs, blinking back at you slowly, “You can’t go home. Come with me please, before something dangerous finds you.”

You stare at his hand, still outstretched towards you, before you cut your eyes back up to his. A deep growl sounds through the trees, followed by a series of menacing barks. You and the man both snap towards the noise. A black wolf moves through the trees on the opposite side of the stream, instantly sending chills down your spine. Its eyes are golden, but a darkness looms in them as it peers at you. It starts to growl again, lowering its head as it bares its teeth, barking loudly again.

“Cut it out,” the man behind you says sternly, “She’s already claimed, Rumlow.”

You gasp when the black wolf changes right in front of you. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, a dark haired man stands on the bank, “She hasn’t been marked yet,” he smirks, his eyes bouncing between yours and the man behind you, “So technically, she hasn’t been claimed, Rogers.”

“Back off. I’m warning you.”

“Ooooh,” Rumlow laughs, “Scary voice.”

You swallow and glance up at the man behind you, Rogers. He keeps his eyes across the stream, his hands balled at his sides, his chest swollen with possession, “Get behind me,” He hisses, “Now.”

You oblige - and fast. You scramble to your feet and step behind him, peering around his arm at the menacing Rumlow. He sneers at you, wiggling his fingers, trying to intimidate you. The golden eyed man takes a step into the water and Rogers transforms back to his four legged alter ego. He digs his paw into the wet sand and lowers his head as a deep growl rumbles in his throat. 

You skirt your eyes back to this Rumlow, watching as he turns, thick black hair and four legs returning to his frame. He barks at you and Rogers, saliva dripping from his mouth as he bares his teeth. 

They lunge at each other without so much as a warning, making you stumble back as you inhale sharply. The sounds of nails ripping through flesh, water splashing, loud barking and growling fill the air as you once again blink back tears. You stand in utter disbelief as these two half animal, half man creatures rip into each other - one, seemingly for your protection, the other for ownership. 

Rogers prevails. He pins the black wolf to the mud, his teeth biting into the others throat and neck, shaking his head back and forth. The black wolf whelps in pain as it kicks and scratches at the much larger, much stronger opponent. Rogers releases him, taking a few steps back but keeps his eyes on the other as it scrambles back up the bank. The golden eyes are back on you as he whips back around, growling lowly, but soon scampers off with a heavy limp.

Rogers watches the trees for a minute longer before he turns and moves slowly back to your side. He rubs his head against your hand, licking your fingers gently. You look down at him, his big blue eyes gazing back up into yours and you can’t help but pat the top of his head. He did just save you, after all.

“Thank you.” You offer softly.

He takes a few steps past you and then turns to look at you, waiting for you to join him. You really have nowhere else to go and knowing now what exactly lurks out in the trees, you’re too afraid to have him leave you. The two of you start to walk back in the direction that you first came. He stays in his wolf form, his heavy paws padding softly in the dirt next to you, his eyes wide and alert as you traipse through the forest. Your mind races with the silence, his words playing over and over again - you can’t go home. You can’t go home. You can’t go home. Your stomach starts to twist all over again. Why can’t you go home? What did you do to make it so? 

Maybe it’s a dream - maybe it’s just all one big, bad dream and you can’t wake yourself up. You start to pray, closing your eyes as you walk, pleading with God to just wake you up from all of this. But you don’t - wake up that is. 

You walk for hours. The heat beating down on you from the sun starts to wear on you, your throat going dry again as sweat beads on your forehead. Your feet ache as each footprint you leave behind starts to clump with blood. Your vision starts to blur and you stumble slightly, making Rogers snap his head towards you.

He circles your legs, barking a few times before he changes into his human form again. He grabs your elbow, his eyes searching yours intently before he brushes your messy hair away from your face. 

“We’re almost there, let me carry you.”

You pull away from him but stumble again, “I’m fine, I -”

Without another word, you’re lifted from your feet with ease. He curls you into his broad, hairy chest, wrapping an arm around your back and tucking the other underneath your knees. You’re too exhausted to fight him. You rest your head against his chest and let him carry you slowly the rest of the way, your eyes closing to slits. You’re barely conscious when Rogers steps through a wall of brush and shrubs and suddenly, you’ve stepped into a utopia. 

You blink furiously as you try and make sure that you are seeing what you are really seeing. The air smells sweeter. The trees and grass are alive with motion as a breeze whips over your body. You feel eyes on you as Rogers moves you through this new town-like place. You can see cottages placed randomly throughout the trees as people start to come out from them, watching. You tense, but Rogers is quick to quell your fear.

“It’s okay. Your scent is spreading, that’s all.”

“My scent? I smell bad?”

He smiles a little, keeping his eyes straight ahead, “Not bad, just new.”

“Where are we going?”

“To see Wanda. She’s our seer.”

He moves you through another set of trees and you’re standing at the edge of a large lake. The water level is low - a wispy waterfall to your left barely dribbles into the body of water. That’s when you spot her, a redheaded woman bathing in the water. Her back is to you, but she’s calm as she sweeps her hand over her outstretched arm, smoothing water over her skin. Rogers sits you on your feet but keeps his hand on the small of your back to help keep you steady. 

You glance over at him, where he meets your gaze, shaking his head gently as he taps his index finger against his lips, “Wait until she calls for you.” He whispers. 

Another man pops up from underneath the water seconds later, scaring you slightly. He pushes the water away from his face with his hands before he sweeps them over the top of his head. He smiles at you, and you smile back without hesitation - he’s so beautiful. It’s a warm, gentle, friendly smile - the gap in his teeth and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes invite you to feel just a little more comfortable. The sun makes his brown skin glow, accentuating the drops of water that collect on his shoulders and chest.

“Steve?” You hear the woman say.

“Yes. I have her.”

“I know you do,” her voice is sweet, thick with comfort  and amusement, “Sam, can you bring her to me?”

She disappears under the water. You watch as the other man, Sam, swims towards you and glance nervously over at Rogers - no, Steve. He gives you a reassuring nod and a hint of a smile before you turn back just as the smooth skinned Sam emerges from the water. You quickly avert your eyes towards your feet, as he’s stark naked as well, but steal a glance or two. Water cascades down his rippled chest and stomach, glinting underneath the strong sun.

Sam outstretches his hand, a broad smile lighting up his face, “Hi, I’m Sam. Welcome.” 

When you hesitate, Steve steps a little closer, “She’s still a little foggy.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. We’re not going to hurt you. Promise.” Sam reassures, keeping his hand open and outstretched. 

You take it with trepidation, allowing him to slowly pull you into the cool water. It feels good on your achy, bloody feet, and sore limbs. Sam turns to you again, “It’s okay if you want to dip under. You’ll feel a whole lot better, I swear it.” 

You don’t even hesitate. You push your body underneath the water, closing your eyes as your hearing gets muffled by the liquid. You pop back up seconds later, pushing your hands over your hair as the sun warms you again. He’s right. You do feel a whole lot better - clean. 

Sam wraps his long fingers around your arm and places it over his shoulder, before doing the same with the other. Before you can question him, he starts to swim out deeper, pulling you with him. You let him carry you towards the mysterious woman, who is now wearing a bright smile as she wiggles her thin fingers at you as you approach. She swims underneath the waterfall and Sam follows, setting you on your feet before he exits.

“Hungry?” She asks, handing you a small bowl of assorted fruits, “I wish I could offer you more, but we’re going through a bit of a rough growing season. I had to walk for miles to find these as it was.”

“That’s okay,” You greedily take the bowl, stuffing the sweet berries into your mouth, “Thank you, I’m- starving. Thank you.”

“Eat up, baby. I know you’re exhausted.” She watches you as you eat, her eyes twinkling as she smiles. She closes her eyes after a few minutes and tilts her head upwards, nodding every now and again as if she’s listening to something - or someone. 

She moans softly as she sways her hands back and forth in the water, her fingertips just barely touching the surface. Then, suddenly, she pops her big eyes open and blinks at you, “My God,” she whispers, “It’s you.”

“M-me? I-” You stammer, glancing around nervously.

She smiles big as she grabs your hands in hers, “We’ve been waiting for you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.”

You shake your head slowly as dread fills your stomach, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t- I don’t even remember how I got here and Steve says that I can’t go home. Please. I just- I want to go home.”

Wanda pulls you into her bare chest, hugging you tightly. She pulls away seconds later, her eyes bouncing between yours, “This is scary at first, it was for all of us, but you’ll come to love it here. You are going to rule this forest one day and drive out all of the evil. You, dear girl,” she smiles at you again, “You will finally bring us peace. Please, close your eyes.”

“Wanda, I don’t-”

“Shhh,” she coos, “Close your eyes.” 

You take a breath, letting your shoulders slump slightly but close your eyes. You feel Wanda braid her fingers with yours before she starts to speak again.

“Only the cursed inhabit this enchanted forest.” She says softly. Your lips part as fear flushes through you, “All of us, at different times found ourselves wandering through these trees, cursed to never be able to leave. Each one of us has gained an affliction over time, some sooner than others.”

“Affliction?” you whisper, your chest starting to heave.

“I’m a seer. I wasn’t at first, it came to me over time. I can see other’s afflictions before they manifest. I’m also known to have premonitions and visions of what’s to come. Steve and Sam, they are lycans, able to shift between wolf and human form. Bucky, whom you’ll meet soon enough, a werewolf. Unlucky for him, full moons come around every night. Clint, another shifter of an avian kind. Natasha and Carol, mermaids, unable to walk to the earth.” 

“Then what am I?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“We’ll get to that soon,” She answers. You feel the water shift as she moves around you. She drags her hands up your arms and shoulders softly, “Try and remember. Remember what brought you here.”

You focus your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, as you force your brain to try and remember. You squeeze your eyes tight, but nothing forms - not a thought, not a memory… nothing. You shake your head as your chin starts to tremble, all of the fear and anxiety rising up in your throat. 

“I can’t,” you start to whimper, “I can’t remember, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda coos, hugging you from behind, “It’s okay. Relax, just try and remember. Feel the water and the warm sun, just let it carry you away. Focus on the waterfall, hear it.”

Tears stream down your cheeks but you push out a shaky breath as you digest her words. Feel the cool water. Hear the waterfall. Wanda grabs your hand, flipping it over before she presses her fingers into your palm, drawing gentle circles, “Just try and remember.”

A quick image flashes before your eyes - pink. Balloons, a congratulations banner… the clinking of champagne glasses. Then, there’s faces, happy ones - Shelia! Romero and Tammy are also there, all hugging you, wishing you luck. You’ve worked so hard for this! No one deserves this more than you!

“I got it,” you whisper, “I got the job. I was promoted to bank manager.”

“That’s it. Stay there, just remember.”

You see it now. They threw you a party during your lunch break - bought you a cake and everything. After the celebration, you walked back to your desk and there it was - one singular cupcake, topped with pink icing and white sprinkles. 

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god.” 

Wanda sways you back and forth softly, resting her chin on your shoulder, walking you through it. You looked around, but saw no one paying you any attention. You sat in your chair, stuffed to the gills from the lunch and the cake - but you brought the small pastry to your nose anyway, inhaling the sweetness of it. You moaned as a smile spread on your face. You were always a sucker for a cupcake. 

You peeled away the wrapping and brought it to your face again, ready to take a bite, when you noticed a small slip of paper peeking out from underneath your keyboard. You pulled it out with the tips of your fingers and furrowed your brow as you read the unfamiliar handwriting. You deserve all that’s coming to you. 

More tears spill from your eyes as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. 

You looked around one final time to see if anyone was watching, but found no one paying you any mind. You looked back down at the cupcake in your hand and shrugged before closing your eyes and taking a bite. You moaned again as the spongy cake exploded on your taste buds. It was the best cupcake you had ever had. You finished it quickly and tossed the wrapper and note, before waking up your computer and returning to your emails, not even noticing the little old woman slipping out through the front doors. 

“I didn’t give her the extension.” You whisper, your voice shaky, “She was months behind on her mortgage, we had already given her three. I couldn’t. My hands were tied. I couldn’t grant her another extension, I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay, dear girl.”

“It’s not okay!” You shout, “She cursed me! She sent me here!”

“I told you it was going to be hard at first.”

You pull away from her, spinning around to face her again, “I want to leave! Now!”

“Honey -”

She reaches for you but you slap her hands from you as you back away, “I’m leaving. I’m not- I don’t know what you want, but I’m leaving!”

You move underneath the wispy waterfall and back out into the large lake as Wanda screams for you to stop. You swim hard, and fast towards the shore, feeling Sam and Steve’s eyes on you as they lounge underneath one of the large trees. They both stand, their eyes wide as you stumble up onto the bank, tripping over your own feet as you try and gain some traction. 

You run towards the trees, the weight of your wet dress not slowing you down in the least bit. You hear Wanda’s voice again, this time instructing Sam and Steve to let you go, “She’ll get lost out there.” Steve worries.

“She’ll be fine,” Wanda says, taking a breath as she wades in the water, “You’ll just have to find her again in the morning.”

You run for miles. You run until the sun is replaced by the moon and the sounds of the day have completely stilled. You hear nothing but your own footsteps and the chirp of a cricket that you never seem to find. It’s cooled down considerably, your body is racked with chills as a gust of wind whips around you. The only thing keeping you going is fear. You’re afraid to stop and rest, not knowing what or who is out in these woods in the dark. 

You push deeper, trying to use the moonlight as a guide but you have no idea what you’re looking for. Every time you think you’ve found a way out, that maybe you think you see a road or hear a car, you just move into a section of trees and shrubs and grass. This forest is never ending. Maybe they were right. Maybe you can’t -

You snap your head and gasp as a loud scream erupts from deep in the trees. It awakens the birds, making them all screech and fly out from their nests. The scream erupts again, this time louder, so loud you have to cover your ears. It sounds like a man being ripped apart from limb to limb. He screams again - a blood curdling one - and you cringe as it seems even louder, like he’s right behind you. 

You start running again. The screams continue but each one gets deeper, more animal-like, more painful. You freeze right in your tracks when a loud, long howl sounds through the sleepy forest - a bay at the large, white moon in the sky. Unlucky for him, full moons come every night. 

Soon, all you can hear is your own breathing. You cower behind a tree, hugging it tightly as you keep your eyes wide, your pupils surely blown. There’s a rustling in the trees and brush, twigs snapping, heavy, fast footsteps. Another howl, followed by random barks and then rushed footsteps again. Your eyes fill with water as your mind races, unsure of what to do, where to go. You don’t want to die out here. 

Smell? I smell bad?

Not bad, just new.

Fuck.

You snap your head over your shoulder, watching as the bushes in the distance start to shake as something moves through it. You push away from the tree and dart off to your left, ducking and dodging random limbs and vines as you try to flee. You keep turning around as you run - but you see nothing. You just hear it. Barking, growling, howling - the heavy footsteps pounding into the ground as it closes in on you. 

“Shit!” You cry as you push yourself as hard as you can, willing your feet to carry you faster. Your lungs and legs burn as you cut through the trees, ignoring the stinging cuts on your arms and feet from the branches whipping against you. You turn again, gasping you finally spot the beast chasing you emerging from the brush. 

Just as you do, your foot tangles in an exposed root, tripping you. You hit the ground hard, face first, screaming as pain rips through your ankle and lower leg. A shadow casts over you as a large mass jumps clear over your head. It lands on all fours, the ground shaking with its weight when it lands. You sit up quickly, trying to back away, dragging your now bum leg as your fingernails dig into the dirt underneath you.

You drag in a deep, shaky breath as instant tears flood your face. Your body shakes as your face completely breaks with emotion. You stare back into a pair of pitch black eyes. This beast is huge - larger than Steve and Rumlow combined. It howls again, making you scream as your eardrums nearly burst from the sound. It stands on its back legs as it bays again and you could swear it’s seven feet tall. It falls back to the earth with another heavy thud, then lowers its head as it zeros in on you again. 

It starts to growl, snarling its lip to show its sharp, white teeth. It barks and snaps at you, saliva dripping from its mouth as it takes a step towards you. You scamper backwards but your back slams into a tree. You try to stand but fall back to the ground as your leg just can’t carry you. It steps towards you again, still growling, still snapping. 

You push up against the tree as hard as you can, almost wanting it to swallow you whole. You shut your eyes as the heat from its breath washes over your face, the rush of air pushing from its nostrils tossing your hair. You squirm, whimpering when you feel its wiry hair on your legs, its whiskers grazing against your cheek. You turn your head as it sniffs at you loudly, pushing its long nose through your hair and down your neck.

It pushes out another forceful breath through its nose, making you jump. You blink your eyes, slowly opening them as you turn back to face it. You pull in deep, audible breaths as you stare back at this… thing, this affliction, as Wanda’s words come back to you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are… 

“Please,” you whisper quietly, so quietly you barely hear yourself, “Bucky, please.”

It tilts its head at the sound of the name - but not in the way you’d hoped. His eyes narrow as he snarls his lip again, that menacing growl rumbling through his chest and throat. His ears lay back on his head as he drops it, clearly threatened. He crouches down as he snaps at you again, dragging his front paw through the dirt as he readies himself to pounce. 

You start to sob loudly, holding your hands out as you plead and beg - screaming for your life. The adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins becomes ever present as your head starts to spin. Your palms get sweaty, your heart racing and thumping against your chest as your body shakes. You can’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t fill your lungs with air. You’re hot and cold all at the same time. Your vision tunnels - your pupils shrinking to the size of the tip of a pin. 

Suddenly, everything goes black. 

Bucky glances down at the woman in his arms as he trudges through the trees. It’s early morning, the sky still orange and pink as the birds start to sing. He’s not sure who she is, he just remembers her smell - strong - calling to him in the dark of the night. It’s the most vivid scent he’s ever encountered. So pure, so heavy that he can remember it even after his change. She’s not the usual newcomer around here -  that he can tell. 

He pushes into his home surroundings, most of their small community still snuggled tight in their cottages - “Bucky! There you are.”

He snaps his head towards the approaching Wanda, eyeing her as she steps next to him, sweeping her hand over the passed out woman’s forehead, “You know this one?” He asks. 

She nods, “Just came to us yesterday. She’s -”

Bucky just nods, glancing out into the distance as he knows what she’s about to say, “She’s hurt. I think her ankle is broken. I might have - I think the gashes are from me.”

“No worries, I’ll get her fixed up. Do you mind taking her to your cottage?”

He sighs heavily, sending his eyes towards the small redhead, watching as she smiles softly, “Wanda,”

“You and Steve have more space,” she shrugs, her face filling with surprise as Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Sam and I just had a baby. This poor thing needs rest and looking after.”

“Well,” Bucky starts gruffly, “Steve can look after her then.”

Wanda throws her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look before she turns her attention to the shuffling coming from behind them, “Clint? Can you do me a favor?”

The short blonde approaches, nodding his head towards Bucky, “Of course. Who’s that?” He asks, pointing towards the unconscious woman in his hands.

Wanda smiles brightly, “She’s our Faery.”

Clint’s eyes widen as a smirk spreads on his face, “No shit, really?”

Wanda nods, and Bucky rolls his eyes again.

“What’s the favor?” Clint asks, chuckling softly.

“See if you can find Steve and Sam. They’re out looking for her. They couldn’t have gotten far.”

With another quick nod, Clint is now soaring towards the tops of the trees, his arms replaced by long, sleek wings as he transforms. He screeches, his bird call rippling through the forest as he flies out of sight. 

Bucky starts to move again, readjusting the woman in his arms as her legs bounce against his naked thigh. He moves into he and Steve’s shared cottage, Wanda right behind him as he moves into his room. He lays the unconscious woman down on his bed before walking back out of the room without a word. 

He collects a large bowl from the kitchen and fills it with warm water while grabbing clean towels and cotton swabs. He pads back into the room, sitting the supplies on the small table next to his bed before he pulls open the drawer, grabbing his stitch kit and tossing it on the bed.

“Where are you going?” Wanda questions from her spot on the bed, watching as he walks back towards his bedroom door.

Bucky doesn’t even turn around. He just holds up a bar of soap as he heads for the main door, “Bath.”

Bucky runs his hands through his short hair as he comes up from underneath the water. He’s still not really used to it, but he needed the haircut, and Steve actually did a good job on it. He keeps his eyes closed and his head tilted towards the sky as the sun beats down on him, warming him as he stands in the cool water. There is nothing better than a bath after a night of pillaging. 

His mind floats back to Wanda and the strange woman keeping him from collapsing into his bed. He scoffs at just the thought. He’s never bought into Wanda’s bullshit. She’s been blowing smoke up his ass for years, but it just goes into one ear and right out the other one. She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day. He rolled his eyes then and he rolls his eyes now. She seems to forget this place is a literal curse. 

Who could love you? Bucky pops his eyes open as the thought floats through his mind. Who could actually love a monster like you? “Nobody,” he mumbles to himself, letting his eyes drop to the water. That’s why it’s all bullshit. 

He hears a rustling in the trees and turns his head and body to watch Sam, Steve, and Clint emerge. Sam lifts his hand towards him, which Bucky returns with a head nod, before he swims towards the bank to join the three men.

“Where did you find her?” Steve asks as soon as he’s on the bank.

Bucky shrugs, “Out pretty far. I came across her on my way home.”

“She’s hurt?” Steve questions again, his face and eyes full of concern.

“Broken ankle, some gashes and cuts, but she’ll live.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

Bucky grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes, “I don’t know, maybe. What’s with all the fucking questions?”

Clint slaps him on his arm, smirking all the while, “You know Steve and that bleeding heart of his.”

“She’s our faery, we’re all supposed to take care of her.” Steve says, pushing past Bucky.

“Jesus,” Bucky mumbles, dropping his head into his hands to rub his face, “I’m not in the mood for all of this.”

“When are you ever in the mood?” Sam quips, shaking his head, “Where’s my wife?”

“In my bedroom, tending to our fabulous faery.” Bucky huffs, “Fuck, I just want to sleep. I should have put her in Steve’s room.”

“I wouldn’t talk about your soulmate like that, Barnes. Women don’t like sarcasm.” Sam smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t you start. She’s not my soulmate, she not gonna bring peace or whatever the fuck Wanda is always spouting off about. She’s just another cursed soul, just like the rest of us. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Sam and Clint glance at each other, shaking their heads at the cynical man before them, “Whatever, fuck off. I’m going to sleep.” Bucky grumbles, turning back towards his cottage.

“You can sleep at ours if you want,” Sam calls, “I'll bunk with Steve until the girl is back on her feet.”

“And have that sniffling, whiny little brat of yours waking me up every hour? No thanks.”

He ducks quickly as a rock whizzes by his head, “Don’t talk about my baby boy like that, Barnes!”

Bucky bounds inside his shared home and makes his way towards his bedroom, leaning against the door frame as he listens in on Wanda and Steve. The girl looks better already, the dried blood splattered on random parts of her body gone. Her tattered dress is also gone, replaced by one of Wanda’s hand sewn tunic’s. The deeper of her gashes are sewn together, her feet wrapped in leaves of the bountiful lamb ear. 

Her face is soft as she breathes in and out gently. Her hands are crossed over her chest as Wanda crushes up more herbs beside her, smoothing the goop over her flesh wounds. He turns away after a few minutes, as her scent starts to make him dizzy in this confined space. He wonders how Steve can handle being that close.

His heavy feet carry him into the living room, his eyes growing heavier and heavier with each step. He falls onto the old, lumpy hand sewn pillows that sit atop the nicked up couch that Steve fashioned with his bare hands, and grabs the blanket thrown over the back. He covers his entire body and head while burying his face in the cushions as he tries to drown out Wanda and Steve’s hushed voices. 

Bucky wakes with a start hours later. A loud pounding noise beats over the roof of the small cottage, making him spring up. He snaps his head towards the front door, finding it wide open. He stands quickly, peeking his head into his room, finding the woman still asleep on his bed but doesn’t find Wanda or Steve. He takes off towards the front door, but stops in his tracks when he realizes what the pounding is. 

Rain. 

He moves out onto the small porch, finding Steve sitting on the step, “How long has it been raining like this?”

“Hours,” Steve smiles up at him, “Started right after you fell asleep. Do you remember the last time it rained like this?”

Bucky shakes his head. They get showers here and there, just enough to keep the stream and the lake flowing but this? It’s been months since they’ve seen a steady, strong, purposeless rain. 

“Wanda had a premonition, a strong one. She had to go lay down.” Steve says gently, not taking his eyes off the rain, “She said this is just the beginning. This is because of her.”

“Steve, come on-”

“There’s not going to be a full moon tonight.” Steve says, cutting him off, “Wanda saw it, Buck.”

Bucky squares his jaw as an irrational anger flushes through him, “That’s not possible.”

“It is. She saw it, Bucky. Wanda is never wrong, you know that. She’s proved it time and time again.”

“I’ve been here for seventy years,” Bucky growls, his tone hard, “I’ve turned every night -  every single night there’s a full moon. That’s my affliction, it doesn’t just go away because some woman shows up one day.”

Steve drops his head, shaking it softly. He shrugs after a minute or two, not wanting to pick a fight, “Okay, Buck.”

“I don’t know why you fall for that shit.” 

“Maybe because I want to believe in something more, something bigger. I get it,” Steve retorts, “We fucked up in our old lives, but we were given a second chance.”

“A second chance?” Bucky asks incredulously, “You call this a second chance? Bound to a god forsaken forest and having to skulk around like an animal for the rest of eternity?”

Steve hangs his head, but smirks nonetheless, “It’s not that bad.” 

“For you,” Bucky reminds him, “Try having your limbs twist and break every night and get back to me about it being a second chance.”

Bucky pushes past him, off of the porch and into the rain. He lets it beat down on him, cleansing him of the anger building inside of his chest before he pushes his hands over his hair, “I’m going for a walk.”

Steve just nods in acknowledgement and returns his gaze towards the gray sky. 

You wake up slowly, fluttering your eyes as you stretch out your limbs. You rub your face as you groan slightly, rolling your head into the pillows beneath you. You sit up and let out a yawn before you glance around the unfamiliar room. It’s minimal, a table, a chair in the corner, and a bed. It’s cozy still, even with the scarce decor. 

You’ve never felt better in your life. All the aches and pains in your body are gone. There’s no anxiety or fear. Your eyes don’t burn, your throat isn’t dry. You feel so good.  You glance down, running your fingers over the hand stitched garment that covers your body. You then graze your fingers over the stitches in your leg, a purple and blue bruise surrounding it, but you feel no pain. You unwrap the leaves around your feet and wiggle your toes before you toss your legs over the side of the bed. 

You notice a small bowl of fruit and a homemade mug sitting on the small wooden table next to the bed. You pick up the bowl, popping what looks like a blueberry into your mouth before you moan in satisfaction, closing your eyes as you swallow. You stand, tucking the bowl into your chest and grabbing the mug before you head out of the bedroom. You glance around as you move slowly through the cottage, from room to room, finding it empty. As you pop a strawberry into your mouth, you move out of the second bedroom and back into the living room, where you peek out of the small window. 

A steady, hard rain pours from the gray sky. You stand and watch for a few minutes, bringing the mug to your lips and draining the cup of it’s sweet liquid. You sit the now empty cup and bowl down and walk out onto the porch, the defending sound of the rain now unmuted by the walls of the cottage. You reach your hand out, letting the fat drops plop against it as a smile spreads on your face. You’ve always loved the rain. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, breathing in the earth - the dirt and leaves and grass - letting it fill your lungs as they’re all nurtured by the water. Without thinking, you step off of the small porch, right into the rain, letting it wash over you. Your hair sticks to your head, your thin tunic becomes glued to the curves of your body, accentuating your hips and breasts as you start to walk aimlessly through the quiet, sleepy little community. 

You move into a field of tall grass and hold out your hands as you walk slowly, letting the blades graze your palms. You close your eyes again as your head starts to swim and a warmth starts to spread through your body, starting in your toes and moving all the way up to your head. You’re not sure what exactly has happened over the past twenty four hours but, now, with each passing minute, you start to feel like you’re home - almost as if this is what you’ve been searching for your whole life.

“What are you doing?” You jump at the sound of the deep, gruff voice. You pop your eyes open, spinning on your feet to come face to face with a dark haired man. His eyes are a crystal blue, his jaw square, his eyes crinkled in the corners as he squints at you, “You shouldn’t be out here.” 

“W-why not?” You ask softly.

“You’re ankle, it’s-” he drops his eyes to your feet, his lips parting as he finds them in perfect condition, “What did you do?” 

He moves towards you quickly, scaring you slightly as he lifts the thin material covering your body, “What did you do?” He asks again, his voice irritated, his eyes angry.

“N-nothing. Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Your ankle was broken. Wanda had to give you stitches in that leg.” He points.

You snatch the material of your tunic from his fingers, stepping back, “I still have the stitches,” you rebuff, glancing down at your leg, “See? They’re right -”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at your now healed leg. You shake your head, letting out a breath, “I just… the stitches were there, my leg was bruised, just… just right before I walked out here.”

You look up at the man standing before you, your eyes bouncing wildly between his as he stares back at you. You can’t read his expression, but the wheels in his head are definitely turning as he drops his eyes from yours. He turns his head to the side slightly and stares into the grass as he tries to work something out in his brain. 

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” You ask softly as you push your wet hair out of your face.

He turns back to face you as soon as the words leave your lips. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. He just stares at you as the rain beats on him, slipping down his neck and chest and abs before it hits the ground below.

“You haven’t spoken to Wanda?”

“Just a little,” you shrug, swallowing hard as you drop your head to look at your feet, “I didn’t really, um, give her a chance to explain it all. I was... scared.”

You feel his eyes roam over you as you twist the bottom of your tunic in your fingers, “You need to talk to Wanda. She’ll explain it to you.” He answers simply as he turns away.

You watch him as he walks away from you. His shoulders broad, the muscles in his back flexing as he moves. You bite your lip as your eyes fall to his behind, sculpted and hard, and his thighs, thick and sturdy. Your stomach clenches. The rain doesn’t help either - the water droplets cascading down his sinewy body, providing you with quick, fragmented images of your tongue licking each droplet away. 

You let out a breath, and then Wanda’s words float back to you again, stronger and louder this time. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.

“Are you, um,” you call out to him, “Are you Bucky?”

He stops, rolling his shoulders in irritation, “What about it?”

“You’re what attacked me last night?”

You watch as he drops his head, his back muscles tensing as your question reaches him. He turns to face you, his jaw tight, his eye narrowed, “You’re still breathing aren’t you?”

You glance around nervously, “Well, yeah, I-“

“Then I didn’t attack you, did I?”

You swallow. You’re not sure if it’s just you or if he’s always like this, but he’s trying really hard to intimidate you. It’s working… kind of, “You tried too.” You answer back quietly.

He scoffs at the notion, “If I had tried to attack you, I’d be digesting you right about now. I should’ve, I wouldn’t have to eat for a week. That would be a welcome change.”

You squint your eyes at the unnecessarily rude comment, “You’re an asshole.” You spit back angrily, your brow furrowing, “I’m just trying to-“

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do.” He shouts, “Keep outta my way and I’ll stay out of yours.” 

“No problem there, pal.” 

“Wonderful, darling.” He sneers, before turning and walking off again.

You scoff hard, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff. You cut your eyes back towards him as he moves through the grass and your stomach tightens again. A warmth spreads through you as your fingers start to itch - wanting to feel him. Your lips part as your breath starts to come a little faster - a little harder - and you’re not even sure why. Something is just drawing you to him. 

You don���t understand for the life of you what’s happening in this moment. Maybe it was the berries and fruit, or that drink that was left by the bedside, but you’re warm all over, your head is spinning and you want nothing more than to feel that man inside of you - even now after your tense exchange. Heat rises in your cheeks as your breath starts to rush. You twist the bottom of your tunic harder as you become acutely aware of the ache between your legs. A fire starts to rage in the pit of your stomach - you want him to put it out. 

Before you can stop yourself, you're running after him, your feet squishing in the mud as you move. You reach out for him once you’re close, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. He turns quickly, bringing to you a quick halt in front of him. He scrunches his face in utter confusion and maybe a little annoyance as he blinks down at you, “What? What do you want?”

You push up onto your tiptoes and kiss him hard. You moan into him as you rest a hand on his shoulder and push the other into his hair, pulling him closer. He pulls away seconds later, his lips parted and swollen, pure befuddlement playing in his eyes.

You blink back at him as your chest heaves. You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t find the words. Your mind is just - blank. You rest your hands on his shoulders again and drop your eyes to his chest as your fingers start to trace the light scars littered across his otherwise smooth skin. Some are old and white, some deep and purple, some raised, some smooth. They’re all beautiful - they make him beautiful. You drop your hands down to his stomach, just feeling him, his muscles, his masculinity, his strength. 

You bite your lip. 

You take a deep breath as you feel his arms wrap around you, his hands cupping your ass before he lifts you right off your feet. You stare back into his ice blue eyes as you push your hands into his dark hair again and wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you - deeply. You accept his tongue into your mouth, letting it massage the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. You push your chest into his as your lips smack against one another’s, both of your moans rising into the air around you.

The rain is still heavy as he lays you down in the grass. You tug at the wet garment covering your body, pulling it over your head to expose your nakedness to him. You’ve never been this forward in your life, but something is pulling you, filling you with confidence and power and awareness. You want to be one with him, with the earth, with the wind and the rain. You want to connect with everything around you. You let him grope your breast with his large, calloused hand. You let him drag his lips along your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin.

He pushes your legs open gruffly with his hand as he pulls away from you. You dig your feet into the wet, soft earth, the mud squishing between your toes as you feel his rough fingers sweep through your folds. He rubs at your clit quickly, not really for you, but for him - just to touch you - giving you the feeling that it’s been a while since he’s felt a woman. Pride swells in your chest. 

He then leans over, his lips hovering over yours, his fingers gripping the grass. Then - oh, and then - he starts pushing at your opening, breaking into your awaiting cunt. You gasp as your body inhales inch after inch of him until he’s buried to his hilt - his hips flush against yours. You whimper softly as your flesh stretches wider than ever before to hold him. It feels good. You let out the breath that you’ve been holding as Bucky settles into the feeling of you. His eyes flutter as his mouth hangs, the rain dripping off of his brow and the tip of his nose down onto you.

He bucks into you and you grunt, grabbing onto his forearms and digging your nails into his thick skin. He pushes again, and again, and again until he has a succinct, hard rhythm. Your body bounces with each thrust, your pussy gripping him harder and harder with each pass. The sky really opens up then. A flash of lightning streaks across the sky as a crack of thunder rips through the silence. Not that either one phases the two of you. 

You lean up and kiss him again, biting down on his lips as he fucks into you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and neck, hanging on for dear life as you breathe him in - the raw, carnal scent of him filling your lungs. He thrusts into you suddenly, as hard as he can, and then just stays there, pressing against the deepest part of you. Another bolt of lightning slashes through the sky as you cry out - his name falling from your lips - the sound of it tripping off your tongue sending a shiver right down his spine. 

Your pussy starts to quiver as he moves again. His hips are quick and swift, his cock pushing, pushing, pushing until you’re writhing underneath him. Tears sting your eyes as the intensity of the past twenty four hours rolls through your body. Every synapse within you fires as the warm tears start to slip out of the corners of your eyes, the hard rain sweeping them away. 

You cry out again as a sharp pain travels through you, your sensitive nipple now between Bucky’s teeth. Thunder claps again. You push your chest into his wet mouth as his tongue swirls around your skin. He bites down again and your hips jerk up into his as you roll your head in the mud. You run your hands up and down his arms, gripping and groping as his weight pins you to the ground. You’re almost certain that as he drills his hips into yours, he’ll push you right into the ground, straight down to the earth’s core. 

The orgasm that’s been laying in wait, deep inside of your belly, starts to ripple through you. The sparks start to fly, soft as first but within minutes, the embers are now a full blown fire. You screech and wail as your body tenses and curls into his. The rain gets harder, the lightning spidering through the clouds, the thunder so loud it could burst your eardrums. Another push of his hips and you let out a long, deep growl as your release is finally set free. 

The air whips up around you as you come undone beneath him, shaking the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass. His hips still crash into yours as you claw at his back with your fingernails, but they grow more desperate as the seconds pass. A moan rumbles through his chest, then his breathing hitches - his eyes slam shut. You tense, squeezing your slick pussy around his cock as he starts to spill his seed. You want it all, every last drop - not an ounce to be wasted. 

You grab his face in your hands and press your forehead into his as you both ride out the waves of your orgasms. The warmth of his thick cum spreads through you as his hips jerk and his body shudders. His body slides against yours until he is totally spent, collapsing on top of you when he just can’t hold himself up any longer. You cradle his head with your hands as he tucks into the crook of your neck. You push your fingers through his wet, dark tresses, massaging his scalp slowly as you stare up into the sky. 

The rain slows - it’s still steady, but calmer than before. The lightning and thunder disappears, the wind dies away. You and Bucky stay connected as you drag your fingers up and down his spine. He leans back after a few minutes pass, and stares down at you, his eyes roaming your face as he tries and fails to figure you out. 

“Who are you?” He asks softly, slowly realizing the power you hold.

You breathe gently as you blink back at him, “I don’t know.”

You throw your head back as you pant loudly. Your hips roll against Bucky’s as you ride him on top of his bed. You lean forward slightly, pressing your palms into his broad chest, your fingers digging into his flesh. His strong hands are around your hips, helping you move, pushing you forward and then backwards, and then forwards again. 

A bead of sweat slips between your breasts but his tongue captures it before it can delve any further. He falls back onto the thin mattress that holds the two of you and lets his hands fall to your thighs, “God,” he pushes out between clenched teeth, “S’fuckin’ good, girl.”

You start to bounce on top of him, pushing more of your weight into the center of his chest. His hands leave your hips to grip your bouncing tits, massaging them hard before he takes each of your nipples between his rough fingers. He slips his hands around to your back, groping your flesh quickly before he grabs your long locs to pull them gently. You groan as a slight pain prickles at your scalp, but smile as you push your hands up to cup your breasts.

The rain picks up outside again as the familiar pull of an orgasm starts to tickle your insides. You work your hips, up and down, up and down, up and down on his cock until you’re quaking. Your clit jumps with convulsions as you come, your thin fingers stroking the aching flesh to exacerbate the feeling. Bucky isn’t far behind, just like the other four times the two of you have made love throughout the day and evening. 

He hisses and grunts as he lifts his hips into yours, fucking up into you as his spunk fills you to the brim before it slips back out and down his shaft. The thunder outside cracks again as you fuck him for all he’s worth, until you literally can’t sit up any longer. You fall onto his chest, your breath heavy and hard as you nuzzle into him. Your skin sticks to his as humidity fills the room but you hum happily.

You start to trace the scars on his chest with your index finger, your eyes growing heavy. You still don’t know what is drawing you to this man. One minute, you’re both seething with anger directed at one another, the next, you’re making love like it’s your last hours on earth. With each passing moment, you feel him seeping into your heart - your soul - and you don’t even know him. All you know is that you don’t ever want to leave this bed again.

“I have a question.” You whisper after several minutes.

“What’s that?” He slurs, half asleep.

“How long have you been here?”

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding your body tight to his, “Too long.”

“How long?” You press.

“Seventy years,” he says, letting out a breath, “Give or take a year or two. Go to sleep.”

You giggle but close your eyes anyway, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that a time or two. Now shut up, I mean it.”

“Steve said that I was already claimed. What does that mean?”

“You’ve asked your question, girl.”

“Come on,” you whine, “Please?”

He sighs heavily, turning his head into the pillow, keeping his eyes closed, “There’s evil out there in the woods. Not everybody is as nice as us.”

You sit up, flattening your palm to his chest as you blink at the side of his face, “Rumlow? He’s evil?”

“You saw Rumlow? When?” He asks, popping his eyes open as he turns to face you.

“Yesterday, when Steve found me.”

Bucky lets out another breath, his eyes calming, “He’s evil. It’s a good thing he didn’t find you first.” He reaches towards you, sliding his hand along your face before he cups your chin, “Now, I’m going to put you out if you don’t go to sleep.”

You smile softly and lay back down on his chest, nuzzling into him, “Sheesh, okay grumpy.”

He tightens his grip around your waist and just as you are slipping between consciousness and sleep, you swear you feel his lips on your forehead and hear a faint goodnight, girl. 

Bucky sits straight up as a jolt of fear flashes through him. He snaps his head towards the window as the sun peaks in behind the thin, white curtains that cover it. Daytime. It’s daytime and he’s still in his bed. How in the - 

Something shifts beside him and he jerks again, letting out a breath as an arm slinks over his chest. He eyes the small woman next to him, her leg slung over both of his, her face nuzzled into his bicep as she drags in deep, calm breaths. The previous day’s events flash through his mind - his lips on hers, her nails dug into his skin, her sweet gasps as he plunged into her over and over and over again.

She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day. 

Wanda’s words play back through his mind. He huffs, letting out a breath before he lowers his head to his hands and rubs his face. He turns his head and peeks over at the sleeping woman next to him. It’s been a long time since he’s woken up to such a sight. Warm brown skin, long locs spidering across the stark white sheets, a gentle, soft face… it takes him back to the 40s. How it felt to wake up next to his girl everyday. God, he wonders where she is now, if she’s even still alive.

He blinks and reaches out slowly, placing his palm flat on her back. He watches as it rises and falls with each steady breath before he sweeps his fingers across her smooth skin. He cups the side of her face and rubs his thumb across her cheek… it’s been a long time… and it feels nice. She feels nice.

Movement outside of his door grabs his attention and then a soft knock spreads through the room. Steve pokes his head in, smiling softly as he eyes the sleeping girl.

“This is not what it looks like.” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face again.

“Of course it isn’t,” Steve shrugs, “Wanda’s here for you.”

“Wonderful,” Bucky titters, “Give me a minute.”

When Steve disappears, Bucky turns back towards the sleeping body next to him. He dips down and places his lips to her forehead, and then the side of her face, and then on the tip of her nose before he sits up straight. He watches as she smiles in her sleep, before she hums softly. He smiles back. He throws his feet over the edge of the bed and stands - what the fuck is happening to him? He couldn’t stand her twelve hours ago. 

“Wanda,” he starts as he moves into the living room, shutting his door, “What brings you here so early?”

She smirks, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as Steve hands her a mug, “You know why I’m here.”

“Do I?” He asks sarcastically - smirking as she levels a slap to his arm.

“How is she?” 

“Who?”

“Goddamn you, Barnes!” She laughs.

“She’s fine,” he shrugs, “Still sleeping.” 

“With you?” 

Bucky sends his eyes towards her, squinting them just a bit as she smiles back at him. Steve hands him a mug seconds later, which he accepts and sips before he answers, “Nosy ass.”

“You are awfully nonchalant about this whole thing,” Steve pipes up, “It rained like hell all day and well into the night, and then, more importantly, you didn’t turn. No full moon, and all we get from you is your usual sarcasm.” 

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, that was nice.”

“That was nice?” Steve scoffs, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky laughs lightly, “Okay, yes, some weird shit is going on, alright? I don’t have an answer for you.” 

“It’s not weird, it’s her.” Wanda says, sending her eyes to his closed door, “She is powerful.” 

Bucky rubs his face again, his brain turning, “It still doesn’t make any sense. You have to be cursed to end up here, right? So how does she have all of this power? Where is it coming from? Who fucking decides?”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Wanda says, tilting her head, “We may have been cursed, but even here, in this place, we all still have a destiny to fulfill. We were meant to adapt and survive for some reason or another. Our afflictions have shown that.”

Bucky casts his eyes to his feet as he runs his hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to bring up that within twenty four hours, her broken ankle is completely healed. That not one scratch is present on her body. That every time she came in his arms, the wind and the rain got stronger and harder. If he does, it’s real. Everything Wanda’s been telling them for years is actually coming true - and he’s found the love of his life. 

“What is it? What happened?” Wanda asks, eyeing him quietly, “What are you thinking?”

Bucky clicks his tongue, throwing her a look, “Nothing, damn.” 

“James Buchanan Barnes, so help me!”

He rolls his eyes, “She’s… her ankle, you remember? It was broken, clearly.”

“I remember.” 

“Well, it’s not, now,” he says slowly, shifting his eyes around the room, “It wasn’t yesterday when she was roaming around outside.” He snaps his eyes to Wanda when she gasps and covers her mouth with her fingers, “The gash on her leg, her feet, they’re all healed up. It’s like nothing even happened to her.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide as she glances off into space, her mind racing. She opens her mouth to speak, but a loud knock at the front door interrupts her, “Babe,” Sam starts as he pops his head inside, “You gotta come look at this.”

The three of them follow the excited Sam as he pulls them down towards the lake. The waterfall rushes with intensity, the water level of the lake higher than they’ve ever seen it. They rush up the hill just to the side of the lake and waterfall to the connecting stream above and stop in their tracks as they push through the trees. 

Fish, all sizes and colors, leap from the water and then dive back in as they swim along. Natasha pops her head up out of the water, her green-blue tail swishing behind her, “Do you see this?” She laughs, “This is incredible! We haven’t had fish like this in God only knows how long.”

“When did this start?” Bucky asks.

“Last night, but it was just a few. Carol and I just thought a few got separated from their school, but we woke up this morning to all of this.”

The water starts to ripple upstream as something cuts through it with ease. Once the shadow underneath reaches them, it circles Natasha before it bobs up in the water, Carol’s blue eyes and warm smile falling onto the group, “Go check the orchards. I’ve never seen them like this.” 

Apples, oranges, peaches, and lemons scatter the ground as Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Steve move through the trees. They haven’t yielded in months and now they are so full, they can’t even hold their production. Wanda’s eyes fill with tears as she reaches towards a blueberry bush, plucking off a single berry. Sam wraps her up in his arms, kissing the side of her face as she smiles up at him through the emotion, “She’s going to save us, Sam. We’re going to be okay.” 

“I never lost faith, baby.” He whispers, swaying her gently back and forth, “Never for a minute.”

Steve picks a bright red apple from the sprawling tree above him and brings it to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it. He closes his eyes and hums in appreciation as the sweet taste explodes against his taste buds.

Bucky wipes at the corners of his mouth, wiping away the juices from the plumb he’s just inhaled. Wanda was right. He should have never doubted her. 

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice sounds behind them, making them all turn. You stand a few feet away, worry written all over your face, the bottom of your tunic bunched in your hand, “I woke up and everybody was gone.”

You cut your eyes to Bucky as he plucks a handful of blueberries from a small bush. He walks towards you, stepping right up to you before he brings one of the berries to your lips. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his, searching for an answer that you’re not sure he has. You’re almost shocked when he smiles back at you. You open your mouth and accept the small piece of fruit, chewing slowly before you swallow.

“Everything’s okay.” He answers, kissing your lips quickly - softly, “We’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you.” 

You turn your head towards Wanda as she advances, placing her hands on your shoulder, a smile on her face, “Come, baby. I have much to tell you about your journey.” 

[sillyguyhotline]

17. “How is any of this ok?” with Joe and Sara maybe?

dude im gonna be completely honest i havent written anything in like a month so i think the quality isnt gonna be great but here goes nothing

God, Sara missed the feeling of home.

Every semblance of familiarity and comfort she’d once found in the town she’d grown up in, the house she’d spent her childhood running through, now felt chillingly foreign.

Perhaps it was the heavy burden of knowledge weighing fresh upon her shoulders: ASUNARO’s corruption seemed now to peer slyly around every corner, no matter where she went. She still didn’t know how much of the town had rotted away under its grasp, how much of the town its poison had pervaded… but she was probably better off not knowing.

Whatever was left of Midori, that miserable mix of pulsing blood and electronic emotion, had been ground to bits inside that coffin… but Sara couldn’t ignore the creeping fear that his burning, ever-present gaze would appear out of nowhere and terrorize her again.

But he wouldn’t. The death game was over, and they’d promised they would never hurt her or any of her loved ones again.

Most of the loved ones she still encountered day-to-day, gruesomely blood splattered and sitting like corpses propped up hastily in a corner, would be safe no matter if ASUNARO was fresh on her tail or a thousand miles away. What a cruel price to pay for safety, to never be hurt again.

They still lived on if Sara closed her eyes tight enough, if she listened to the twisting words of the hallucinations and let them convince her she was monstrous. But the second she dared to open her eyes, she knew they’d be dead again. Life worked in terrible ways, and that was all there was to it.

Joe’s house had always been a second home to her, ever since the two of them became friends. Joe was the farthest cry from Sara in terms of social interactions- it had taken at least 3 months for Sara to trust Joe enough to invite him over, but Joe had insisted she hang out at his house the very same day they became friendly enough to exchange more than a sentence with each other.

There was a certain sort of comfort to the warmth of his house, the constant scent of cooking food pervading the air and the little trinkets scattered in every corner. No surface of his house went without decoration, in its silly little way. It was full of pictures, too, some carefully framed and some dangling from the wall by pushpins, but Sara got the sense that none of the photos went unloved. Most of them were occupied by an orange-haired man, often carrying a younger Joe (back when he was still sporting that atrocious crew cut). Sara always assumed it was his dad, but thought it would be impolite to ask… particularly when the weeks stretched on and Sara had yet to meet that mysterious orange-haired man.

Eventually, pictures of Sara began to join the collage on the wall- pictures taken as she butchered yet another pop song during karaoke, or when they went out to get food, or when she mistakenly sat down on a traffic cone during gym (after many protests from Sara, he took that one down). As silly as the pictures were, and as obvious as it was that Joe had waited for the most embarrassing moments to take them, it was sort of sweet in a way.

Joe’s mother was always kind to her, though there was a constant weariness in her eyes that Sara always felt a bit uneasy about questioning. Sometimes she’d let the two of them cook things in the kitchen, but more often than not they’d go up to Joe’s room and screw around in there, with video games or music or the 50 times Joe tried to persuade Sara to climb out the window and sit on the roof with him before she finally agreed.

As rare as it was for Sara to agree to sit on the roof, it was even rarer for Joe to agree to study with her, much to Sara’s chagrin. Joe had always walked a fine line between passing and failing, but Sara had to admit he walked it well. When she did manage to convince him to study, though (usually the day before final exams), they’d sit on the cushy couch in his living room and somehow manage to bother each other as much as possible while feigning concentration.

The couch hadn’t changed after several years- Sara could tell that much the minute she sat down on it and avoided the urge to break eye contact with Joe’s mother. It was still well-worn, a couch that likely should have been replaced at least a decade ago but had never really been disposed of. Loose threads were protruding from the cover, drawn out from years of visitors fidgeting with them.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the slight motion making her sink deeper into the couch’s soft cushioning. She’d only spent one minute in the house and was already sweating, whether from the heat of the home or the thousand-yard stare of the woman sitting across from her.

Ryoko was there, too, sitting to Sara’s left and gazing listlessly at the well-trodden carpet beneath her feet. …Ryoko.

Sara cast a hesitant glance around the room, duly noting the photos covering the walls. Not a single one of hers had been taken down, but several more photos had appeared with Joe’s beaming face featuring prominently in them. Joe’s presence was always enough to fill a room even when he wasn’t speaking; it took a lot to fill in the gaps left by his absence.

God, she missed him.

The wind whistled against the window-screen; Sara had memorized the familiar creak of the wooden window frame being lifted up to welcome in the mild autumn air. Sara had always thought of autumn as a beginning- she loved summer as much as any other kid, but as the haze of the weather began to wind down she was quick to grow impatient and look forward to the school year, to being productive again. Joe had always disagreed with her.

“Fall is the literal death of fun,” he’d complained once, walking home with Sara after finishing the first week of school. “Couldn’t they have pushed back the first day of school by, like, another week? You think if we got enough people to sign a petition, they’d give us an extra week of summer?”

“Oh, come on, we both know even if you had an extra week of summer you’d just be complaining a week later,” Sara had teased back.

The death of fun. It certainly felt like that, Sara decided. She’d never feared the looming darkness of fall and winter quite so much before. But now, she supposed, there was no sunshine who’d weather it with her.

“Well… Sara?” Joe’s mother spoke up, voice hoarse with the sound of repressed tears in her throat. Sara recognized the sound all too well.

There was no resentment in the woman’s eyes when Sara made eye contact with her. No anger, no frustration, nor had there been any in her measured motions when she welcomed Sara into the home. It didn’t take any words for Sara to tell that there was no blame to be foisted upon her.

She was still Joe’s best friend.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you out here on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was weak. “I don’t know all the details of what happened, of course. Haven’t heard anything, aside from the little tidbits the police told me when I dropped by the station.”

Sara’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the police, at the idea of them pleasantly answering her questions as though they weren’t just as complicit in that tragedy as ASUNARO had been.

“And…” the woman glanced down at her hands, toughened from a lifetime of working. “I know something terrible happened to you. The circles under your eyes are darker than midnight, I know it’s so selfish of me to be dragging you out here, but… I haven’t slept a wink for weeks. Been so worried about Joe, and about you too.”

She nodded in the direction of the black-haired girl who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. “Ryoko’s been worried about the both of you, too. Your parents weren’t answering the door, so she went to me. I hope you’ll forgive the two of us for disturbing you, Sara, but… you have the answers the police won’t give us, don’t you?”

God, her gaze was piercing.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

It was taking everything in Sara’s power not to look at the vacant seat to her right. If Joe was there, he would have been laughing and lightening the mood, completing the circle that had been left so jarringly empty.

But they wouldn’t have been having this conversation if Joe was there.

Ms. Tazuna nodded slowly. “This means the world to me, Sara. Don’t forget that.”

Sara did her best to muster a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The woman gave another nod, eyes defocusing as though even now, she wasn’t quite sure why she was there. “Alright. Alright. Well, then…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Guess I should get right to the point, yeah? Is he… is… how is he…?”

So she still hadn’t quite let go of that little thread of hope, even after seeing Sara return home safe and alive with no best friend in tow. Who was Sara to judge? When hope was the only thing to cling to, it only made sense to cling to it like a lifeline.

Sara twisted her hands, the same old nervous habit she’d had for years, and wondered briefly if she’d picked it up from Ms. Tazuna. How terrible it was, to carry the news that nobody, much less any mother, ever wanted to hear.

“I… I’m sorry, Ms. Tazuna. He didn’t make it out alive.”

Sara hadn’t expected the hush that immediately fell over the room. She’d expected immediate tears, the grieving cry of a mother in pain. Instead, the room became muffled, still as a painting captured in time.

Slowly, Ryoko looked up from her bitten-down fingers, eyes rimmed red already. Ryoko had always been an emotional person, the only person Sara knew who could fluctuate from full-on sobs to cheerful giggles in less than a minute. Sara was so unused to the look that was now filling her eyes- cold, solid misery. As though there were no tears in her eyes left to cry, no more tragedies to bemoan. Just a deep and horrified comprehension of just how many things in her life had gone wrong.

And, slowly, Ms. Tazuna began to cry.

Tears had become so uncomfortable for Sara to bear witness to. Was it selfish of her to look away? It couldn’t be, not when every raw sob reminded her of the art student seeing her first (and certainly not last) death, of the broken sibling openly weeping over apologies gone unspoken, of the unknowing siblings screaming their throats out with pleas for death so the other could survive.

Especially not now. Not when every tear rang in her mind as a reminder of cold tubes piercing her best friend’s chest, of his corpse slumping and falling in a pool of blood, because oh god he wasn’t supposed to have lost so much blood, how was he supposed to live without it, of the clickclickclickclickclicking rising in volume while her attempts to save him grew feebler and feebler.

Her hands were bloodstained, no matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Those dreadful hands of hers had failed her, failed Joe, failed the women sobbing openly in front of her.

She swallowed back the apologies that always rose in her throat as Ms. Tazuna rushed to sniffle back her tears.

“I… god, I… he’s really gone?”

Sara couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please… please tell me it was a peaceful death. He didn’t… suffer too much, did he?”

The resounding wave of clicks flooded her mind. “It was as peaceful as I could make it. I… he smiled at me, right before he died. I’d… very much like to think that means he was happy when he died.”

“What happened?” Ryoko’s voice came out rough, the first of it Sara had heard in weeks. “Joe told me, after our date, that he was going to walk you home, and then neither of you showed up at school the next day. And now… it’s been three weeks? And Joe… Joe’s dead? What the hell happened, Sara?”

“God,” Sara mumbled, mesmerizing herself with the twisting motions of her own hands. “I’m not sure if you’d even believe me if I told you. I don’t even know if I believe what happened myself.”

“I’d believe anything.” The sentence was firm. “I just want to know what happened.”

Sara nodded wearily. The familiar weight of her bright orange ponytail was notably missing- the day after she’d escaped, she’d demanded the hairdresser cut her hair short and crisp. She shuddered every time she thought about the ponytail brushing against her neck as she spent each argument screaming and protesting for her life. Even worse was the memory of how carefully Joe had styled her hair, forsaking his usual clumsiness to braid every strand with a remarkable tenderness. She didn’t want to remember any of it- even though, as the locks went cascading to the floor, she was reminded starkly of Keiji’s bleach-stained trauma response.

“For some reason, something to do with the mafia, we were kidnapped. And pulled into a death game. There were twenty of us, including me and Joe. I- I’m not going to get into all the specifics. It’s going to make me sick to my stomach if I do. But… they made us play this sadistic fucking game to narrow down the competition. Based on cards. Joe drew a bad card, and… they executed him.” Something in Sara’s throat tightened as she finished speaking, and she fell silent.

“Just like that?” His mother’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “How… how’d they kill him?”

“I’d rather not say.” There came the gushing sound of blood pulsing through the tubes. “He didn’t suffer too long” - she hoped - “but it was a gruesome way to die. I don’t want to think about it, please understand.”

It took a moment for his mother to register the words and nod, face still painted with horror.

“Why… how did the two of you even end up there in the first place?” Ryoko spoke up again. “You said something about the mafia? How the hell are you two connected with the mafia?”

“I don’t know how I am,” Sara responded immediately. “It must be something with my family. I couldn’t control any of this, I swear, but… Joe wasn’t meant to end up there at all.”

Ryoko paused. “He… he wasn’t meant to end up there?”

Sara swallowed back the lump in her throat. “The game… it was something that was being prepared for ages. There weren’t just a few ragtag kidnappers behind it, there was an entire organization. Even the police were involved. They ran AI tests, hundreds if not thousands of them, trying to calculate who’d be the most likely to win. And… when all the numbers came back, the person most likely to win… was me.”

She spread her arms wide, baring her sins and her cruelties to the world, and in that moment felt distinctly like the angel of death Keiji had branded her to be.

“They needed something to drag me down, I guess. Make the odds more balanced. So they dragged Joe into this fucking mess. I guess they thought that him being there would keep me steady enough to make everything fair.” A cold hand, dripping with tendrils of phantom blood, caressed her chin with a lethal grip. “...They were right.”

Ryoko’s gaze had gone cold again. “So Joe died just because you cared about him? What the fuck kind of death sentence is that?”

Sara shook her head numbly.

“Why did it have to be him?” The heartbreak in Ryoko’s voice was clearer than day. “So many people love you, Sara, why did it have to be him? Hell, I’m your best friend too, aren’t I? Why couldn’t it have been me? I’m a much worse person than Joe ever was, I deserved to be in his place way more. Couldn’t they have killed me instead?”

Sara winced at the growing desperation in her best friend’s voice, the raw crack she knew all too well. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me. Sara could have almost fooled herself into seeing a crisp aquamarine when Ryoko’s hair flashed into the light.

“Ryoko… it could have been.”

The girl fell silent.

“They had files on you too. They knew how close we were, they knew how much you meant to me… but Joe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And they fucking killed him for it.”

Oh, how she wished she could go back to that balmy early-autumn night, see the smile on Joe’s face and listen to his lighthearted laughter again. The desire to keep one’s friend safe had become a crime deserving of a death sentence.

Ryoko’s eyes remained locked to Sara’s, devoid of any dullness. In the look they exchanged was a deep, sinking understanding, one that had nauseated Sara to the core the first time the realization struck her.

It was by no crafty strategy that Joe had died instead of Ryoko, no favoritism biased against the kindest person either of them would ever know. It was a simple, terrible twist of fate. Ryoko could have taken his place had she done something as inconsequential as offering to walk Sara home instead.

But she hadn’t.

It took everything in Sara’s power to avoid wondering what would’ve changed if she had.

“How is any of this okay?” Ryoko broke the silence weakly. “They killed him- they could have killed me, too. He was seventeen. Seventeen. How did anybody let this happen? How did this happen, Sara?”

“I- I don’t know.” Ryoko’s wrath was simmering; even though Sara knew truly that she wasn’t the subject of the anger, she still felt scalded. “I miss him so much, Ryoko. I watched him die, and nothing in my power let me save him. I miss him, Ryoko, I miss him every waking minute of every day. We were supposed to escape together and get out safe and pretend this never happened, but…” the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of anyone, especially not over him.

“I’m going to go make some coffee,” his mother interrupted suddenly. She’d been noticeably quiet, but the still-fresh streaks of tears painted down her cheeks told the story she didn’t need to vocalize. “Some coffee, and some snacks. And we’ll keep talking from there, alright? Do you guys have your phones?”

The two girls nodded uneasily.

“Please… find any pictures you have of him. I want to make this wall as bright as possible.”

Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, and it fell to silence once more. Outside the window, the cool autumn breeze began to stir the leaves in the air, gusting forward to brush against Sara’s cheek just as the hallucination had done mere minutes ago.

And the Tazuna household began to feel more like home again.

[chockfullofsecrets]

D20 Fantasy High: Making Room

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The Bad Kids try to plan a sleepover, Fabian needs to learn how to share, and Riz is maybe starting to get the hang of this whole friendship thing.

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: not to be entirely into D&D on main, but - hey, look, it’s another cool D&D campaign XD shoutout to @hypahticklish for expressing enough interest in this fic to make me want to write it <3

Loose spoilers for the end of Fantasy High Season 1, beware!

---

Riz thinks he’s really starting to get a handle on this whole friendship thing.

Solving a mystery and getting thrown in jail and killing a dragon together aren’t exactly reproducible results, which kind of sucks, but - hey, the six of them are friends now, and they’re hanging out in Fabian’s room on a summer evening, and it’s novel enough to feel like a solved case all on its own.

What’s less satisfying is the amount of missed work they have to catch up on if they want to start as sophomores next year; no one bothered to worry about bringing them homework while they were in actual prison, but all their professors sure seem to care about it now. He gets the feeling that at least part of it is Aguefort trying to keep some degree of respectability after everything that happened with Goldenhoard, but any attempt to reason with him thus far has gotten nowhere but wild-eyed stares and increasingly obtuse lectures on chronomancy and time management. And sure, Riz prides himself on being able to untangle obscure information, but he’s not touching that with a ten foot pole.

They’re all sprawled out on Fabian’s floor, working through assignments with varying levels of fervor ranging from Adaine - actually working with a stack of textbooks nearly up to her shoulder next to her on Fabian’s desk - to Kristen - texting Tracker with a lack of stealth that makes Riz want to grind his teeth a little, even more so than the way she goes bright red and giggles every time her crystal pings - when Fig groans and rolls onto her back.

“You know what?” she says to the room at large, throwing her arms wide. Her hand knocks into her bard notebook, somehow both dusty with disuse and covered in scribbled ballpoint pen sigils. She flips it neatly in the air and elbows it away in Adaine’s direction, earning a half-annoyed yelp. “We should have a sleepover.”

Half of them blink uncomprehendingly, but Kristen drops her crystal in a sudden rush of excitement. “YES,” she shouts. Gorgug, propped against the wall next to her and dozing off over barbarian meditation manuals, startles. “I can show you guys so many cool camp things! We just need a bunch of different colors of yarn and some sticks and - yeah, we can probably skip the holy water to keep the sinners away-”

Riz has - he’s had sleepovers before, if Penny coming over to babysit and finding him crashed out on the couch after a night of reading old case files from his mom counts. He reaches up and straightens his cap, trying to make it look smooth. “Hey, Fabian, do you have coffee here?”

“Wait, wait, hold on a minute.” Fabian, sitting against his giant bed, waves dramatically for all their attention. He looks them over once he gets it, self-importantly adjusting his eyepatch. “Yes, The Ball, we have coffee, we’re not peasants - but sleep over where? Did I miss that part?”

“Uh, here?” Fig says, flinging herself upright. “You’re mom’s super hot - uh, cool, I bet she’d let us do anything.”

“Stop calling my mom hot!” Fabian yelps, glowering for a moment before his chest puffs with familial pride. “Well, we do have at least five guest bedrooms that we could house all of you in-”

“Oh, I don’t need a bed,” Gorgug says hastily. “I’d probably break it, I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, Fabian, no,” Kristen interjects, gesturing with her staff. Gorgug scrambles to remove the cups they’ve been drinking soda out of from her path. “We’re all supposed to hang out in the same room, that’s kind of the point!” She frowns a little, zeroing in on him. “Have you. Have you never been to a sleepover before?”

Riz hasn’t quite gotten around to making a conspiracy board of how all the specific issues of their messed up childhoods overlap, but he can read the way Fabian startles indignantly loud and clear. “Of - of course I have!” he blusters. “I just - why the fuck would you share a bed if you didn’t have to?”

Adaine scoffs. “Fabian, your bed is enormous, I think we could all fit on it with room for the Hangman left over.”

“No, it’s not!” Fabian scrambles up, chin still raised haughtily, and throws himself bodily on the bed - judging from the way his ankles hang off the edge, he’s starfishing out as far as he possibly can. “I’m - see, I’m a growing boy, I need my space! Cathilda says so.”

Adaine, having claimed the only chair in the room and therefore being the only one at eye level with the mattress, cranes her neck and laughs. “Fabian, you’re covering less than half of the bed. You can just say you’ve never been to a sleepover before, you know.”

Fig stands up and launches herself onto the bed too, landing heavily with the zippers on her leather jacket clanking behind her. “Yeah, you just have to - oof - make room-”

She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The room erupts into chaos - Fabian shouting denials, Fig cackling evilly, and Kristen shooting up and banging her shins against the bed before scrambling around to Fabian’s other side. Riz hops up on the desk next to Adaine just in time to watch each of the other girls seize his outstretched arms and start to mercilessly tickle his armpits.

“GAHAHA - no, no, stoHOP-” Fabian flails helplessly between the two of them, still trying to sprawl out over the bed. He manages to wrench his arm free from Fig and shove her away even as he shouts with laughter. “Seacasters are not - ahaaa, haaAA - I’m not ticklish!”

“Oh, yeah?” Kristen taunts. “Then why are you laughing, you - ohshit-”

They’re trying to wrestle him down, but he’s too strong for Fig and too dextrous for Kristen. She lunges for him, red hair flying behind her, and falls straight into his lap.

Fabian catches both of Fig’s wrists in one big hand and uses the other to poke triumphantly at Kristen’s belly, sending her into a fit of cackling giggles. “Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly, struggling into a sitting position. “A Seacaster cannot simply be rousted from his territory!”

All of them know better than to say anything about his dad by now. “Gorgug, come help us hold him down!” Fig demands instead, kicking at Fabian with her platform boots and making him yelp in pain.

Gorgug pulls his headphones all the way off his ears and straightens just enough to take in the tangle of the three of them, looking dubious. “Are you sure? That sounds kind of mean.”

“It’s not a problem if he’s not ticklish, right, Fabian?,” Fig retorts. “And he’s breaking sleepover code by hogging the bed!"

Kristen, still laughing uproariously as she fails to save herself from Fabian’s tickling fingers, somehow manages to shoot Gorgug a pair of finger guns. “Get him, Gorgug!”

Gorgug still looks a little confused - Riz can relate - but he gamely climbs to his feet. “Well, okay.”

He pauses to knock gently on the bedframe, sighing in relief at the heavy thunk that echoes back. “Oh, cool, that’s pretty strong.”

Fig yelps as Fabian lets up on Kristen and starts prodding at her belly instead. “Gorgug, come on!”

“Oh, right,” Gorgug says, and sends the mattress an entire inch to the left as he scrambles on.

“Hell yeah!” Fig cheers as Gorgug climbs on the bed and sweeps Fabian up in a restraining hug. “Sig Figs solidarity!”

Kristen squirms out from between the three of them. “Hey, I’m here too!”

She flops down with a breathy sigh and hugs herself, grinning widely as she catches sight of the identical what-the-fuck expressions that Riz is pretty sure he and Adaine are wearing. “Ugh, I haven’t been tickled in forever.”

Adaine makes a considering sound as Kristen twists back to the battle royale happening behind her. Riz looks over at her, catches one of her ears twitching under the attention before she looks back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been tickled,” she murmurs, a little shy.

Penny’s tickled him before, and maybe his mom when he was little, but yeah, it’s been a while. He shrugs. “You think you’d like it?”

There’s another cry from the bed, and both of them whip around to look. Fig’s looming over a thoroughly trapped Fabian now - just barely, even with her horns - and wriggling her fingers evilly with gleaming eyes. “Are you going to say you’re sorry for breaking sleepover code?”

“There’s - there’s no sleepover code,” Fabian sputters, but he’s grinning sheepishly even as he squirms against Gorgug’s hold. “Gorgug, man, come on, you can’t just betray a fellow member of the Bloodrush team like this!”

“Oh - uh -” Gorgug looks pleadingly at the both of them. “But I’m in the Sig Figs too - does that mean one of you guys is going to be mad at me?”

Fabian barely blinks. “Yes.”

“YES,” says Fig, even louder.

“Oh, come on, you two.” Kristen sits up between Fig and Fabian, poking at both of their sides and cutting their protests off as they suck their lower lips between their teeth with identical wide-eyed looks. Then, with a curious tilt to her head, she reaches around to tickle Gorgug’s side too, grinning as he squeaks. “There are no sides in a tickle fight, everyone knows this.”

Riz forgets that Kristen has three little brothers, sometimes. It’s easy to, until she starts playing peacekeeper between the rest of them.

“Where are all these rules coming from?” Fabian questions indignantly. Adaine makes a sound of agreement next to Riz - is she writing these down?

Oh, who’s he kidding, he’s probably going to ask her for a copy afterwards.

Fig smirks. “Well, I think the person with their hands free should get to enforce the rules. Like so.” She reaches for the thin tank top Fabian’s wearing and scribbles her fingers over his belly, crowing in delight as he shrieks. “Not ticklish, huh? Who’s ticklish now, bitch?”

“You - ahaha, haaa, fuck - anyone’s ticklish when they’re being restrained!” Fabian insists through panicked laughter, wriggling for all he’s worth. Riz squints - maybe it’s just the rogue homework he’s been doing lately, but it looks like Gorgug’s not even holding him that tight.

He shrieks again as Kristen bounces excitedly and reaches for him too. “Nonono, NOHOHO - Kristen, ahaha! You said - eheheee, stop - you said no sihihides!”

“These are your hips, Fabian. And no sides doesn’t mean you can’t gang up on people,” Kristen sticks her tongue out in concentration, squeezing at one of his hips and then the other. “Hey, say you’re ticklish.”

“What? No - hahaha - shit, shiHIHIT-” Fabian starts to really thrash under their teasing - Riz catches him elbowing Gorgug neatly in the gut, but their barbarian absorbs the blow like it’s nothing. Riz tries not to feel jealous and doesn’t entirely succeed.

Kristen smiles beatifically from cheek to freckled cheek. “The truth’ll set you free, brother.”

Fabian shakes his head frantically, catching sight of Riz and Adaine by his desk through teary eyes. “The Ball - The Ball, help me, this isn’t - ahahaha, nonoplease - it’s not fair!” he pleads through the widest smile Riz has seen on him so far, which is saying something. “Don’t you care about justice?”

Fig looks over at them too, now, hair slipping from her braid and fangs on full display as she beams. “Yeah, you two, get over here or you’re next! You’re missing out on the sleepover fun!”

“Oh,” Adaine says uncertainly. “I didn’t know this was part of it.”

She looks over at Riz - not that he knows any better, but he’s absolutely not going to cop to it. “Oh, yeah, tickle fights,” he blusters. “Definitely part of sleepovers. To, uh, tire everyone out.”

Adaine looks out of the window at blue skies just barely starting to blush pink and gets a small, quiet grin on her face that he can’t help but return. “Oh, okay,” she says. “Riz, are you ticklish?”

Oh. Oh, no.

Riz stiffens. It doesn’t seem like anyone else has heard Adaine’s question, maybe he can get under the bed before any of them notice -

He. He could, is the thing, he’s an awesome rogue, but - out here seems pretty fun too. “That’s more of a hands-on investigation thing,” he shoots back, and leaps for the bed before she can catch hold of him.

He is, after all, an investigator first and foremost, and there’s more room to be made on that mattress.

[clevercxs]

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 4]

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Warning: nsfw ;)

Word Count: 8.8k

_______________________________________________

Midday rode in on its valorous steed, ridding Beamfleot of the prior night’s grim misfortunes and the fading afterglow of suffrage. 

The sun’s rays, in their curious nature, seemed to peek through the fort’s highest window in an attempt to wake the Saxon princess, who snored away in a blissful, much needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping beauty upstairs, tensions had risen amongst the Danes still hungover from the last night’s revelations, who were greeted with a rude awakening upon finding an empty cage in the centre of the hall. Their coveted princess had been intentionally freed and was virtually nowhere to be seen; she was not there, on display, for them to childishly taunt and harass.

Beneath messied curls of raven locks that had fallen over her pale face during the night, the princess’s eyes fluttered open, ever so slowly, and began to take in her new and unfamiliar surroundings. With a wide, breathy yawn that seemed to tug at the corners of her chapped lips, Blædswith carefully propped herself up on two feeble elbows that wobbled beneath her weight. Upon doing so she could feel the entirety of her shoulder ache, and broken ribs shift like creaky floorboards giving way. 

Peering down, Blædswith was taken aback to see herself fully clothed in a woolen, sleeved nightgown that seemed to reach just above her ankles. 

Her memory was a clouded haze, seeing as she couldn’t remember how she ended up where she had awoken; somewhere strange yet all familiar. 

The room was dark and unnerving, though oddly enough felt cozy and inviting to the woman it confined. The walls were of beautifully aged stones, each one telling a story of famous Lords and Ladies past; of victorious songs chanted and arduous battles won. To the left of the king sized bed where she found herself, loomed a stone fireplace stretching towards a high ceiling of beams, encompassing a small kindling fire just large enough to warm the room without roasting the Saxon alive. 

She could hear embers and small logs crackling, bringing a subtle grin to her lips out of its comforting familiarity. Plush fur rugs lined the wooden floor, forming a convenient trail towards the bedroom door carved in unfamiliar runes and other intriguing symbols. 

Overwhelmed by the sudden change of scenery, Blædswith found herself curling into a ball beneath layers of thick fur pelts that had been draped over her sleeping form. Clutching a hand-sewn pillow tightly to her chest, she rolled over to dodge the blinding rays of light illuminating the cavernous room. Glancing up from where she lay still, she noticed the beautifully carved designs in the bed’s wooden frame, and the wrought iron candelabra hanging overhead by a single chain.

It was rather strange to finally be alone, where no prying eyes could violate her every move. For a brief moment, she almost allowed herself a feeling of freedom and joy, only to realize that the room had become her new cage. The only window was barred by thick wooden posts while the door, undoubtedly, was locked and heavily guarded on the outside. 

Sigefrid wasn’t a complete fool to leave his most prized possession unattended and unprotected. Surely, he had learned his lesson, therefore no man was to be entrusted with her safety other than himself, the remaining few he trusted, or perhaps his merciful brother, Erik, whom the princess had already grown fond of.

Anxious, she began running her fingers through the pelt’s thickness, painstakingly trying to recall what happened last night…

While Sigefrid’s hand guided the princess away from the shore by the small of her back, she couldn’t help but stare at the carnage left behind in his wake. It looked as if his traitorous men had been slain by an entire army; dozens of arrows pierced their armored chest plates and their throats had been slashed by, undoubtedly, the blade upon Sigefrid's hand out of pure fury and rage. The limp body of the slave girl whom Blædswith befriended was carried off into the night, and to be forgotten, as if she had never been there.

As Sigefrid and Blædswith trudged uphill towards the fortress, she could feel him pulling her away from where a defeated Hæsten knelt in the dirt - mangled and disfigured beyond recognition. It seemed as if Sigefrid tried to avert the princess’s gaze from such a horrific and gruesome sight - one he was responsible for. 

Blædswith could feel her frightened heart pounding within her chest like a battle drum, somehow in perfect unison with her heavy footfalls.

Though in brief passing, Blædswith witnessed for the first time the extent of Sigefrid’s vengeful brutality - or rather, the aftermath. It was as if Hæsten’s face had been trampled, repeatedly, by the metal-clad hooves of Sigefrid’s black steed. Hæsten’s dark, bloodshot eyes were swollen almost completely shut. His beard, once a curly nest of honey blonde, had been stained a crimson red from thick, oozing streams trailing from his broken nose. Beneath the skin of his swollen cheeks were distinct purple bruises outlining four knuckle prints. Surely, they were left over from Sigefrid ruthlessly pummeling the side of his face, where each blow became more excruciating than the last. Hæsten’s ankles and wrists were bound in coils of coarse rope not unlike a slave fresh off the merchant's ship after a long, godless voyage.

Blædswith peered down at Sigefrid’s hand that had slithered around her lower back, now resting upon her waist just below her tender ribs. To her dismay, his knuckles were split wide open and stained with another man’s blood. As their pace quickened the further they got from the shore, Blædswith couldn’t help but fear for what she had gotten herself into after seeing what Sigefrid was fully capable of. 

Initially, she found herself drawn to the danger and mystery behind Sigefrid’s piercing eyes; seduced by his undeniable courage, god-like strength, and power over those inferior to him, the Lord of Chaos. But after that night, who was to say that he wouldn’t treat her this cruelly if she were to cross him? The fearsome Dane whose armor she clung to for dear life was a damning beast of a man capable of unimaginable acts… that much was clear.

There remained a glimmer of hope within the princess that she would be the exception; the one thing he could never allow himself to do any harm to. She believed him capable of being good, towards her, and hoped it would remain true of him in the end - when it really mattered. Blædswith marveled at the thought of being with a man such as Sigefrid, intimidating and ambitious, yet capable of being gentle towards his one beloved - her.

With the mead hall approaching in the near distance, Blædswith suddenly felt lightheaded, disoriented with fatigue and fear-fuelled adrenaline. The last thing she recalled hearing was the sound of Sigefrid’s voice calling out her name as her knees buckled beneath her and the night faded to pitch blackness with the collapse of her body...

Startled out of her thoughts by an indecipherable uproar of men arguing somewhere in the near distance, Blædswith found herself sitting upright once more, defensively on high alert, after hearing wooden tables and broken chairs being upturned and thrown rather aggressively across the mead hall, below. 

What is going on? Is Beamfleot under attack?

With a stiff groan, she climbed out of bed and shuffled towards the bedroom door, pressing an ear against the carved wood. The princess audibly gasped when she identified Sigefrid’s voice amongst all others, bursting at the seams and fuming like a maddened, rabid dog off its leash. 

“Dear God.” Blædswith gulped as Sigefrid’s tone seemed to grow louder by the minute while Erik struggled to calm him down. It sounded as if a hundred Danes were shouting in a jumbled unison, leaving Blædswith only able to comprehend mere bits and pieces of what was said.

In a panic, the princess frantically searched through every table and desk drawer, tearing the room apart in search for any weapons or weapon-like objects to defend herself with in case Sigefrid were to come for her next. This time, it appeared, Erik hadn’t left anything behind for her. Distracted by the commotion downstairs, Blædswith did not hear the light feet approaching her room, and hadn’t the slightest clue that someone was headed her way until the bedroom door quickly unlocked and swung open. Out from behind the door entered a quaint slave girl trembling in her work shoes, balancing a tray of food in one hand with an assortment of combs and brushes shoved down in her pockets. 

“L-Lady.” She greeted timidly, “I-I am sorry to disturb you. Lord Sigefrid sent me-” The young girl nudged the door closed with the pad of her foot, cautiously walking through the room to place the food down on the nearest bedside table. 

Startled, Blædswith practically jumped out of her nightgown at the sudden intrusion, withholding crude language after she realized how nervous the poor girl already was - out of fear. Her complexion was as pale as a ghost as a result of what was occurring downstairs, and likely whatever Sigefrid had threatened her with.

“What is Sigefrid doing? Downstairs?” Blædswith questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a seat at the foot end of the bed. “Of course, I... have my suspicions.” Her words faded into silence after noticing a rather sharp steak knife conveniently placed beside her meal. 

“L-Lord Sigefrid is…” The slave gulped dryly and began fidgeting with the bristles of a large brush in her pocket, “he is asserting himself, a-after what happened last night. To you. He is upset… he feels he can no longer trust anyone, n-nor protect you.”

Blædswith exhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Worried by Sigefrid’s sense of doubt, she questioned, “But he trusts you, does he not? After all, you are here. If you intended to kill me you might actually have a chance.” She motioned down to her shoulder before stiffly rotating it in circular motion.

“H-he does, yes, lady.” She nodded solemnly. “I have no intention to harm you. I have been nothing but loyal to Lord Sigefrid-”

Blædswith, immediately, picked up the steak knife from the tray, reached across her bed, and tucked it beneath her pillow. “I need you to be loyal - to me. You will not tell Sigefrid, nor Erik, that I have a knife. Hæsten still wishes me dead, and this is the only way of protecting myself. Do you understand?” Blædswith leaned in, closing the distance between their faces, thus causing the young slave girl to tremble in fear. She then added, darkly, “If you tell anyone, I shall kill you with it.”

Frantically nodding, on the brink of tears, the slave whimpered,

“Y-yes, lady. I-I understand.”

After Blædswith had been well fed and groomed, the young girl was dismissed so the princess could be left alone to her growing sense of paranoia. Before the slave could reach the door, apprehensive to step foot outside, Blædswith couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she treated her. “Girl.” She began, causing the young slave to stop dead in her tracks, gratefully. “What is your name?”

Slowly turning to face the princess, she replied shamefully, “I-I have no name, lady.”

Blædswith slowly rose from the bed, strolling towards the beautiful, brunette haired girl cowering before her. “I shall call you Moira. How does that sound?” Blædswith reached forward, tucking hair behind the young girl's ear as she once had, to the first slave she’d met. “It is a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Do you not agree?”

Moira nodded humbly, caught off guard by the princess’s sudden interest in her. “I-I agree, yes. Thank you.” Moira then proceeded towards the door, sheepishly asking, “What shall I call you, lady?”

“Blædswith. You may consider me a friend... if you do as told.” The Saxon grinned, now propping herself up on pillows and carefully pulling the fur pelt over her chest. “I can offer you far more than the Thurgilson brothers for your loyalty.”

Moira’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a sense of hope. “I-I shall see you again soon, Blædswith, when I return to tidy Sigefrid’s chambers.” With a courteous bow, she slipped out of the room and back into the realm of chaos instilled by Sigefrid Thurgilson, leaving Blædswith’s head suddenly spinning.

It all made sense, now, why she had slept in a room so breathtaking; so fitting for a princess, even. 

Lady Blædswith of Wessex had spent the night in Sigefrid Thurgilson’s private chambers,

and she doubted it would be the last time.

____________________ ➴  ____________________

With the descendence of evening fall came a sense of tranquility over the land. In recent hours past, the clan’s discord had simmered down as the Danes dispersed, returning Beamfleot to its once habitual state of being. 

Blædswith, after restlessly tossing and turning, found herself buried beneath a mountain of fur pelts and pillows as if she were a child hiding from her parents. The princess stirred uneasily, wondering what would happen to her come dusk. She wondered why Sigefrid had not visited her, though it was likely for the best if he was still tense from earlier. However short-tempered Sigefrid was, Blædswith believed his company was better than none. A sense of loneliness and abandonment had overcome her vulnerable mind after spending an entire day imprisoned by herself.

When Blædswith finally began to drift off to sleep, she could hear the bedroom door knob fumbling as someone struggled to unlock it from the outside. With a loud creak, an unwelcome figure crept into the room and locked the door behind them.

Blædswith could feel her dry throat clench, and stomach coil into a tight, fearful knot. She listened as their footsteps drew near to the bed. Not a word was spoken in greeting, as if they intended to surprise the bed’s sleeping inhabitant. Ever so slowly, Blædswith’s fingers inched beneath her pillow and towards her knife. Her trembling body was otherwise still; frozen, even, as a paralyzing fear surged through her veins like a potent venom. 

She could hear a pair of shoes being unlaced, and sloppily tossed against the nearest wall with seemingly little care of waking her. Something heavy yet soft fell to the floor, such as a fur pelt, before they began high-stepping out of something.

Somebody was taking their clothes off.

Tightly gripping onto the handle of her knife, Blædswith threw back her blankets and sprung to her knees, holding her knife outwards towards the foot end of the bed where her intruder stood completely naked from head to toe.

Having expected it to be Hæsten, or perhaps even Sigefrid, the frightened princess was flabbergasted and utterly appalled to see a bare-chested woman standing before her whose surprised look mirrored her own. 

The two, in unison, gasped like fish out of water.

“Gahhh! What are you doing?!” Blædswith shrieked, turning away from the woman who showed no sense of urgency to cover herself. “W-who are you?!”

“I am Sigefrid’s mistress.” The dark haired woman sneered rather sharply, as if insulted that Blædswith hadn’t heard of her. 

“Bloody Hell.” Blædswith groaned, chest rising and falling quickly with each rapid breath she drew, “Well, I am not Sigefrid! Y-you may…” She nodded with utmost caution, seeing as the woman was easily twice her size. “...you may put your clothes on and leave. Now.”

“Oh?” The large woman chuckled lowly with the shake of her head. “You do not get to bark orders. You are that damned Saxon princess Sigefrid won’t shut up about.” She quirked an eyebrow down at the princess as her lips formed a devilish grin. “But... he will have nothing to talk about if you are gone.”

“Gone?” Blædswith croaked. “I-I do not wish to leave-”

“You will leave, here, when I send you to meet your false God.” The woman snarled, suddenly lunging at Blædswith like a wild cat springing towards its prey, pinning her elbows to the bed causing the knife, her main source of defense, to fall to the floor.

“Shit!” Blædswith gasped, as she began awkwardly wriggling beneath the maddened woman, trying her best to divert her gaze from the Dane’s exposed breasts. Blædswith began kneeing her repeatedly in the gut, crying out in pain while doing so as pain scorched through her own torso. “Get off of me!” Blædswith whimpered, able to free an arm from the Dane’s clammy grasp to strike a fist at the side of her face. 

The bear-like woman seemed virtually unphased. 

“I do not want to kill you!” Blædswith leaned forward, head butting the brawny Dane though seeming to do more damage to herself than her attacker. Blædswith attempted to intertwine their legs together, only to have her shins kicked at until bruises began to form.

“Is that all you have got, princess? You could not kill me if you tried.” Sigefrid’s mistress chuckled menacingly, suddenly taking a firm hold of Blædswith’s throat with both hands in an attempt to choke and suffocate her. With the larger woman’s full body weight atop of her small frame, Blædswith was physically unable to push her off, nor pry her claws from her throat.

“I thought you wanted to be a Dane?” The mistress goaded, watching the color drain from the princess’s cheeks as she writhed and gasped for air. Scorching tears burning trails down her cheeks as she choked on her own sobs. “You are a sorry excuse for a Saxon. For a Christian.” She then dug her fingertips into Blædswith’s freshly cauterized shoulder, causing the princess to whimper and cry out like a dog that had been run over by a cart.

With a low growl, Blædswith managed, 

“I am not a Christian.” 

With her remaining strength, Blædswith wrapped an arm and leg over the nude woman’s back and jerked them both off the bed and onto the floor, causing the Dane to momentarily let go of her throat. Diving away from the bed, gasping, the princess began painfully crawling on her elbows and knees towards the knife, shouting and kicking out behind her like a wild horse after feeling a calloused hand grasp to either of her ankles. 

With a loud cry, and all that she had left within her, Blædswith took hold of the knife once more after continuously crawling forward and being dragged back. Just as the Dane lowered herself towards the princess, hoping to pin her again, Blædswith flipped onto her back and slashed the throat of her assailant with a loud grunt, causing the woman to clutch her gaping wound with both hands as thick streams of red seeped between her fingers. Sigefrid’s mistress fell onto her side, gurgling profusely, as she began to accept her fate dealt by the hand of a Saxon princess.

Blædswith, now hovering above the dying woman, took it upon herself to jab the knife beneath her ribs, driving it up towards the Dane’s gaping throat as if she were skinning a deer, or even performing a reverse blood eagle. 

“We could have lived together... peacefully.” Blædswith grunted, forcing the knife deeper into the woman’s core. “You did this, not me! I never would have wished you any harm!” The princess began twisting the knife as the Dane let out a final gasp. “You killed yourself. Tell that to your gods.”

The light in the Dane’s eyes began to fade, though she quietly managed through airy pants, “I… knew I was… done for when... he… he called out your name…” Her head rolled lazily around her shoulders, allowing her to look the princess in the eyes and whisper, “Blædswith.” 

The Dane fell limp as a dark pool of blood engulfed her massive form. It looked as if she had been mangled and sacrificed to the Pagan gods above. Blædswith opened the mistresses’ large hand, and placed the handle of the knife within her palm before closing her fingers into a tight fist. With a sigh, she whispered, “Valhalla calls you. I will not deny you your gods… even if you did try to kill me. Perhaps, in another life, we shall meet again.”

Crawling away from the fresh corpse, Blædswith found herself crumpled and hunched over against the other side of the bed facing the door. She looked down at her sticky, bloodied hands resting palm up on her lap as a rogue tear caressed the side of her cheek. Her nightgown had been stained with hand prints and smears of red, and the skin of her neck felt raw to the touch as if she had been gripped by the devil himself. 

Sobbing, she feared she would never truly be safe, and never be accepted by the Danes no matter what she does. She worried she would always be a target - always the enemy - even if she has denounced her Christian God. Until she has regained her strength, she will never be able to fully defend herself in Sigefrid’s recurring absence. Angrily, she questioned whether or not he had intentionally, repeatedly, neglected her.

Was Sigefrid testing her? Proving that what he said about her was true?

Not a single guard rushed to her aid. Not even Sigefrid, nor Erik. Blædswith understood they were busy, therefore could not be her caretakers. Most of the Danes she knew weren’t nurturing by nature… however, she had expected the Thurgilson brothers to better protect such a valuable asset - especially if Sigefrid expected her to stay. 

There was something different in the air; something off. There wasn’t a single doubt in Blædswith’s mind that Hæsten was behind the attack. It was likely he dismissed Sigefrid’s guards as he did by the lake, and encouraged Sigefrid’s woman to visit his chambers knowing full well the princess would be there, instead.

Was Hæsten planning, in secret, to overthrow his lords? Or was he simply trying to get revenge on the Saxon princess anyway that he could? Perhaps his plan was to kill two birds with one stone… and that Sigefrid’s hostile mistress was just the first of many to come...

____________________ ➴  ____________________

Shadows filled Sigefrid’s chambers as twilight descended upon the fort. It felt as though the gods above had readied themselves for a blissful night’s slumber after a long day of watching over Midgard and its Danes. 

On the hard wooden floor she remained, even all these hours later. Her hands were stiff with dried blood; her mind, body, and soul numb to the feeling as she stared off into the distance through heavy lids, anticipating someone unpleasant to burst through the door at any moment. She feared she wouldn’t have the strength to resist their advances in her current state of lethargy.

Every so often she swore to have seen Moira, or perhaps the spirit of, the first slave girl she met, lying atop the bed with her fragile hands folded over her chest. Guilt feasted on her insides like hungry Danes supping at the Great Hall. When Moira was no longer there, behind Blædswith’s head, she would see the face of Sigefrid’s mistress. Her ghost seemed to lurk in the shadows of the room’s darkest corners, haunting Blædswith even in death. 

Blædswith ran the backs of her shaky hands over her drowsy eyes. In the end, her own mind; her own guilt and grievances had truly gotten the best of her. 

A gentle knock on the door, followed by the friendly voice of Moira II, seemed to be enough to lift the princess’s spirits as she entered the room with a fresh outfit draped over her forearm. Upon noticing the princess bloodied and on the floor, Moira gasped and immediately dropped the clothes before running to her aid. Once knelt before the Saxon, she began looking her over to see if she had been mortally wounded.

“Blædswith!? Are you alright?” She panicked, placing a small, child-like hand to the princess’s cheek. Moira sighed in relief, feeling a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders as Blædswith nodded ever so feebly. “W-what happened? Who did this to you?”

Raising a shaky arm out to her side like an injured raven preparing for flight, Blædswith pointed a single finger towards the other side of the bed. 

She didn’t utter a single word, for she couldn’t find the right thing to say.

On her hands and knees like a hound, the slave crawled around the foot end of the bed, now following a smeared trail of blood until she found the body of Sigefrid’s old woman - one she knew far too well. 

“Christ almighty.” She shrieked and motioned her hand in the shape of a cross over her chest. That caught Blædswith by surprise - how anyone, let alone a slave - could possibly preserve their faith in God whilst living in Daneland.

“Sigefrid’s mistress intended to… seduce him. She found me instead.” Blædswith croaked dryly with a faint grin, now pressing a hand to her ribs. “She tried to kill me.”

“There were no guards outside your door, Blædswith.” Moira cried, hurrying back to the princess’s side with a look of worry and concern engraved on her face. “Sigefrid ordered them to stay, I-I heard him. I fear they... took orders from someone else-”

Blædswith nodded her head and interjected, “Hæsten is behind this, he must be. He will not stop until I am dead, and rotting at the bottom of the sea. There are many who follow him… I fear he is planning a coup against the brothers, but they are blind to it...” The princess huffed and firmly pursed her dried lips together. “The men Sigefrid trusts are disloyal. I have seen it many times in my short while. I must help him see what he can’t. For if I do not… we may all be killed.” 

Moira rose to her feet and approached the pile of clothing on the floor, scooped it all up in her arms and displayed the garments on the bed as nicely as she could. “Perhaps you can tell Sigefrid tonight. Well, after I-I get you cleaned up. Y-you look as if you slaughtered a pig.” She grinned and kindly helped Blædswith to her feet. 

“What do you mean, tonight? W-what is tonight?” Startled and confused, Blædswith’s thick brows furrowed together, though she found herself staring in awe at the beautiful Danish garb laid before her. 

What is all this for?

“Sigefrid has requested your presence, tonight, for dinner in the mead hall.” With a quick nod, Moira escorted Blædswith to the nearest armchair where she was to wait patiently for her return with a rag and bucket of water - not unlike she had done the night prior, where she waded in the frigid lake water.

“Then I must go.” Blædswith inhaled sharply, glancing towards the door as if expecting another intrusion. “This may be my last chance to warn him before it is too late.” 

Before leaving, Moira retrieved a small, sharpened axe from beneath her shawl that she had looted from one of the brothers. 

“Sigefrid could kill you for this.” Blædswith warned though graciously took the axe from the noble slave girl.

Moira, within feet of the door, nodded solemnly over her shoulder with a kind smile and soothed, “I know.”

____________________ ➴  ____________________

“I do not wish to be humiliated tonight.” Blædswith pouted, running her hands down the front of the apron dress Sigefrid chose for her to wear. She muttered beneath her breath, “I have been tormented enough.”

As a base layer, Blædswith wore a white, long sleeved smock that brushed against her ankles. On top was a shorter, red apron fastened by a string of beads across her chest strewn between a large, silver brooch on either strap - both beautifully engraved in Danish runes. Her feet had slipped into a pair of lace up shoes made of soft, pliable leather. Blædswith’s elongated fingers and narrow wrists were embellished in the finest silver jewelry in the land.

Atop of the princess’s head were three intricate braids running from her hairline to the back of her skull where they were joined by a thin band of leather. While her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders, on either side of her neck hung a single braid that lay against her free flowing locks.

“The brothers will protect you. Y-you have little to worry about.” Moira soothed, approaching the princess from behind to drape a small, light-brown pelt over her shoulders. “You look beautiful.” Moira complimented in awe as she pulled the length of Blædswith’s dark mane out from beneath the fur. 

Stepping in front of the princess in place of a mirror, Moira clasped her hands together against her chest and studied Blædswith from head to toe to ensure she looked as Sigefrid wanted. “You look every bit a Dane, and a-a lovely one at that.” Moira began fiddling with the fur pelt draped over Blædswith’s shoulders, adjusting the brooches upon her chest, and flattening out any creases in her skirt. 

Astounded, Moira chirped, “T-the gods truly favor Lord Sigefrid.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well…” Moira grinned from ear to ear, cocking her head to the side, “Why else would they have brought him you?” With that, the unlikely pair interlocked arms and headed towards the door, only for Blædswith to halt in her tracks.

“What about her?” Blædswith motioned towards the Danish woman she had slain. “We can not just leave her.” She began to panic as the potential consequences for her actions flooded through her mind. Moira quickly shook her head and guided Blædswith to face her, rather than the lifeless body of her assailant. 

“I will take care of Yrsa.” Moira spat the woman’s name bitterly with a hateful snarl. “I never liked her. S-she will be cut up, and served to Sigefrid’s hound for dinner. You have my word.” Moira placed a firm hand to Blædswith’s shoulder as the two exchanged comforting glances. 

“You are mad.” The princess teased with a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she noted, “He likes his meat well done, by the way.”

Stepping out into the noisy hallway, arm in arm, they strolled towards the staircase. Blædswith could hear the merry laughter, chanting, and singing of jovial Danes downing horns of ale by the minute. To her discomfort she felt their arms suddenly unravel, realizing just how tightly she had been holding on to her escort. “You are not coming with me?” Blædswith frowned. “Why?”

Moira shook her head, and took a courteous step back towards Sigefrid’s chambers. “Y-you must do this alone. I will dispose of Yrsa’s body.”

“I can not-”

“Do you have the axe?” Moira pressed firmly.

Blædswith nodded in defeat, patting the right pocket of her apron. “I do.”

“Then go.” Moira hummed with a shooing motion. “Sigefrid Thurgilson awaits you.” 

Like a moth drawn to candle light Blædswith’s feet carried her to the top of the stairs where she found herself clutching tightly to the support rail, looking down at the night’s festivities that beckoned her. 

Her beating heart drowned out the sounds of Danes laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Those up and about, dancing around like children of the night seemed to move in slow motion.  Everyone around her had come to a halt, paralyzed in time as the world simply stopped. 

All because she saw him - though he had already been looking up at her.

Once engrossed in hearty laughter and storytelling by a large bonfire, Sigefrid’s attention suddenly fell elsewhere, towards the divine woman overlooking the mead hall in all her glory. It took him a moment to realize who had captivated his being; the entirety of his lonesome heart with her ethereal beauty. To no surprise, it was none other than his beloved princess, Blædswith.

Sigefrid’s slowly lowered a cup of ale from his parting lips. His eyes, crinkling in the corners, dazzled with such fondness and desire for the woman he admired so dearly. His bearded lips curled into a wide, toothy smile as he tossed the cup aside and excitedly jumped to his feet. His hand quickly readjusted his armored chest plate prior to greeting the lady of the hour, the eldest daughter of King Alfred.

As she descended down the stairs, fingertips running along the railing, she bashfully looked away from Sigefrid who was smiling like a fool upon her arrival. Blædswith could feel a warm heat beneath her cheeks as virtually everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing to stare in awe. There were mixed feelings - some were relieved to see the princess healthy and alive, while others regretted not killing her, or worse, when they had the chance.

“Lady Blædswith.” Sigefrid greeted ever so charmingly and strolled closer. “What a lovely surprise.” Upon doing so, he noticed the redness of her neck and frowned, exhaling sharply through his teeth at the mere thought of someone laying a hand on what was rightfully his. His brows suddenly furrowed as he took hold of her forearm and pulled her closer. “Who did this?” Sigefrid snarled as those spectating returned to their prior festivities. Frantically scanning her face for answers, he grew impatient when Blædswith remained silent. 

Troubled, Sigefrid rattled her arm and sternly repeated, “Who?”

With the shake of her head, the princess caressed the side of his face and closed the gap between their bodies. “Now is not the time.” She glanced over each shoulder. “Rest assured, they are no longer a threat.” Pushing off of her toes, she rested a hand against his chest and pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips. 

Sigefrid did not fathom how ravenous he had been until he tasted, once more, the sweetest gift from the gods. Pulling her lower body against his, Sigefrid hungrily devoured her lips, fighting the urge to abandon the grand feast he had planned so he could ravish her within the privacy of his chambers. His calloused hand rested at the base of her skull, sending chills down her body as he intertwined strands of her hair between his fingers. Blædswith pulled him impossibly closer by his armor and deepend the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth as a low growl rumbled in his chest. 

Sigefrid chuckled to himself with a wide, boyish smirk, as Blædswith began placing a trail of kisses down the length of his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. A stifled moan escaped through his lips after realizing he’d been holding his breath. His eyes fluttered shut, and his tongue dragged over his lips to savor the taste of hers, all while marveling at his wildest fantasies coming true. 

“I missed you.” Blædswith cooed in his ear before pressing her greedy lips onto his once more, no longer resisting the urges within that she had fought long and hard to suppress. When they parted for air, they found themselves gently nudging one another with their noses - smiling like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

“Oh,” He chuckled amusingly, “how I have missed you.” He could feel his lower half stiffen uncomfortably in her presence as his heart beat inhumanly fast against his armor. Biting the tip of his tongue with an irresistibly flirty smile, he motioned for Blædswith to walk alongside him towards a long, wooden table seated with Danes challenging each other to eating contests and arm wrestling matches. “Come.” He reached back, taking her hand in his. “I need to wash away the taste of betrayal.” As Blædswith followed closely behind, cheeks flushed and core left aching after the heated moment they had just shared. She felt as if she were floating on cloud-nine, bit buzzed from the feeling of euphoria he instilled within her. 

However, that feeling quickly faded as she cowered away from the looks of hatred and pure disgust she received. Blædswith could hear whispers of her name throughout the hall from those wondering what Sigefrid’s intentions were with the king’s daughter.

“Why is she not in her cage?”

“What in Odin’s name is Lord Sigefrid doing with our princess?”

As they neared the table Blædswith searched for an empty seat, preferably one close to the dark haired Thurgilson brother. Apprehensive, the princess distanced herself whilst Sigefrid continued ahead of her. Noticing her absence by his side, he turned on his heels and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

The princess shrugged sheepishly. “I-I do not see a place for me to sit.” 

“You will sit… with me.” Sigefrid squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her to the short end of the table where two carved, wooden thrones awaited them. Erik, she noticed, was comfortably seated in a third throne at the other end of the table.

“I hope... it is to your liking.”

“I-I do not know what to say.” Blædswith smiled as he helped her to her seat before making himself comfortable in his rightful place beside her. Before he could notice, she plucked the axe from her pocket and dropped it behind the throne. 

She felt safe enough in Sigefrid’s presence, that surely, it would not be of use to her.

The Danish lord couldn’t help but stare, seeing how tall and powerful she sat where his brother had. Once broken and defeated, she held her head high and overlooked those who despise, yet envy her all the same. With a freshly brewed horn of ale now in hand, Sigefrid’s eyes fell to her exposed chest concealing her lonely heart that yearned for him; for their souls to collide as their warm breaths intertwine beneath Odin’s watchful eye. 

Peering across the table, Blædswith fortuitously caught Erik’s attention. The two exchanged gentle smiles as Erik nodded, assuring her that she was safe, and in good hands with his brother. She mouthed a quiet “thank you”, not only for allowing her to sit upon his throne, but for every kind gesture he’s done since they met.

“Two days ago…” Blædswith spoke down at herself, “it was as if I were a caged animal. Scared… afraid. Now I feel like a queen.” The corners of her lips squirmed as she fought to conceal an overwhelming feeling of joy, and finally, of freedom. “Why?” She looked up at Sigefrid with glossy eyes, and a faint half-smile. “We used to hate each other. W-what are we doing?”

Sigefrid leaned towards her, resting an elbow upon the armrest of his throne. He exhaled sharply, “While I have not been kind to you, Lady… I never hated you.” He spoke grimly, lowering his serious gaze that seemed to sparkle beneath the overhead candelabra. “I have learned from my mistakes; my failures as Lord of Beamfleot… and as a man.” Sigefrid reached forward and poured her a cup of ale, offering it to the princess in which she graciously took and drank from. 

Clearing his throat, he leaned in even closer. “I will make things… better… between us. I presume my chambers were to your liking, were they not?” 

“Your chambers were lovely… though a bit lonely.” Blædswith grinned faintly, feeling herself give in to the burning subject on her mind. “Sigefrid… I would not advise you to sleep there furthermore.” The Saxon whispered discreetly in between sips of ale. “It is not safe.” 

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid suddenly shot upright, throwing a half empty horn of ale over his shoulder, nearly hitting a slave girl passing by with a tray of food.

With a heavy sigh, Blædswith chugged the rest of her cup and tossed it aside, too. Carefully choosing her words, she mumbled nonchalantly, “Your mistress did not take too kindly to another woman in her bed.” She could feel the skin on the back of her neck burning as if inches away from a blacksmith’s forge. “She entered your chambers, and upon recognizing me, she... tried to kill me.” Blædswith gently rubbed her throat, grimly recalling when she had been strangled. 

“And… what did you do?” Sigefrid, practically perched on the armrest like a bird, held onto her every word as if it were to be her last. A mixed array of emotions overcame him, from nauseating worry and dread to fear of the worst. His mind couldn’t fathom how his mistress slipped past his guards, so he felt embarrassed and burdened with guilt that Blædswith found out about Yrsa that way, or at all. While he knew his mistress to be short tempered as he is, he never would have imagined her to attack King Alfred’s daughter out of pure jealousy.

“I slit her throat and gutted her like a deer.” Blædswith deadpanned before an unfamiliar slave girl offered her a second cup of ale, in which she quickly drank from and muttered a quiet “Sköl” as she turned to face the hall.

“Sköl.” 

“I am sorry about Yrsa. I tried to reason with her. She would not listen.”

“She was a mad woman.” Sigefrid shook his head shamefully and downed more of his ale. “There were times... I feared this would happen. Not to you, but… to someone.” After a big gulp of ale, he wiped his beard with the back of his arm and shamefully sunk back into his throne, closing his eyes and cursing himself to the gods for neglecting their gift to him.

“Your guards were dismissed from their duties. When your slave came to get me, they had been long gone.” Blædswith stirred uneasily, distracting herself by glancing around the hall. “That is how Yrsa got in.”

“Those men will be dealt with. I can assure you that.” Sigefrid growled darkly through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from gripping tightly onto his horn of ale. “They will be slaughtered, like that whore of a woman, Yrsa.”

“You speak of your mistress as if you do not care. Surely you must?”

“Yrsa... was a good hump. She passed the time. Unlike her, it is not your ass I want. It is yourself.” Sigefrid turned towards the Saxon, sitting as his equal, beside him. “If you will have me.”

Blædswith gasped quietly beneath her breath. “If I didn't know better, I would have thought you wanted me to stay.” Teasingly, she quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t tell how he felt by the way he held her close - when they exchanged such a moment of tenderness; of love, even. 

“Well, do you?” The Dane teased, excitedly toying with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do I what?” Blædswith hummed with a faux, innocent pout.

“Know better?” 

Blædswith smiled down at her folded hands resting upon her lap, closing her eyes as a bright smile overcame her lips. “Even despite those who wish me dead or to be sold back to Wessex?” Blædswith then peeled the fur pelt from her shoulders, pooling it behind her.

“Even so.” Sigefrid nodded with a wink. His lips slowly parted in awe as he watched Blædswith rise from her throne, now standing before his knees. She began bunching the skirt of her dress at her hips, stepping over his large boots to place herself deep within his lap; his hands immediately shot to her lower waist, pressing her hips firmly against the front of his bulging pants with a breathy groan. 

Numerous Danes whistled and hollered at Blædswith’s sudden gesture.

“I am giving up everything for you. My family, my kingdom. My crown.” Blædswith pinned his wrists to the throne’s armrests, causing Sigefrid to throw his head back against his seat. She could see him gulp drly; the muscular veins of his neck protruding as he fought every primal urge within him to tear her dress to shreds. “I have conditions.”

“Name them.” Sigefrid groaned as Blædswith began to slowly grind her hips against the mighty Thor’s hammer beneath her. She could feel the muscles of his arms flinching beneath her grasp, knowing full well he was stronger than her and could pry her hands off at any moment. His chest rose and fell beneath his armor as he shifted frustratedly in his throne. 

“I want to be your equal.” She purred in his ear. “I will not be treated like a common whore, or slave. You will not have any mistresses, for I will kill them all. I am all you need.” Blædswith whispered dangerously close to his lips as her knees tightened around his hips. “I am your gift from the gods…”

Sigefrid nodded, panting, “I agree to your terms,” before learning forward for a kiss, only to be stopped by Blædswith leaning back, and ceasing all movement of her body.

“Oh, I am not finished.” She taunted rather seductively, maintaining a few inches between their faces. “I no longer wish to be called lady or princess. I am Blædswith.” She paused, biting her bottom lip to suppress an unexpected whimper after feeling him move against her. “I want to learn your ways; t-to train and fight alongside you, as a shieldmaiden. That has always been a dream of mine. I-I am a Dane at heart.”

“That is… quite the ask.” Sigefrid groaned beneath the warmth of her shifting weight. “It would be an honor to fight; to drink, and lie, beside you. I have wanted this - you - ever since we met.” Sigefrid, no longer able to resist her, freed his arms from her grasp with a loud grunt. She could feel his hand wandering down her lower back, undoing the tie of her apron. “I need you to be mine. No other man can have you.”

“Then take me,” Blædswith pleaded, her tender lips mere inches from his. She cupped the sides of his prickly face with her soft hands and whimpered softly, “Take me as yours.”  With a quick, affirming nod, Sigefrid crashed his lips onto hers, tangling his hand in her youthful, free flowing locks. Tilting her head to the side, he began sucking and nipping at the skin of her neck, leaving a warm trail of bruises down to her collarbone to establish his claim over her. Pushing the sleeve of her apron dress down, he sloppily kissed around her cauterized shoulder, wanting her to realize that it wasn’t appalling enough to drive him away. He wanted her to feel beautiful; wanted and desired despite her wound.

Blædswith took his hand in hers, placing atop her breast for him to knead through her dress. If it weren’t for the room full of Danes surrounding them, perhaps her dress would have been discarded ages ago. “You are not,” she gasped quietly in his ear, “disgusted by my shoulder?”

Flicking a thumb over her swollen lip, he growled, “No.” Sigefrid’s eyes were dark; completely dilated as if he were a predator consuming its prey. He looked up at her as if she were his entire world, his beginning and his end.

How strange, he thought, that in so little time Blædswith, a Saxon princess, could mean so much to him… and she may and never know it. “You could never disgust me.” Sigefrid slid his hand around her arse, giving it a firm squeeze as he made his way to her undergarments, pulling and tugging on the fabric until it tore at the seams. 

He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs as his fingers neared, only for Blædswith to shake her head and whimper, “No, we can’t.”

“You do not want to?” A confused Sigefrid panted quietly, almost offended that she had denied him entrance to her most sacred body. “I do not understand-”

“Of course I want to.” She smiled with an airy chuckle. “When I give myself to you,” she gently caressed the side of his face as his arms rested around her waist, “I want it to only be us, and the gods, in the room. I do not wish to be in pain, either.” She motioned down to her ribs, which had ached the entire time. “Besides, if we start now, I-I won’t be able to stop in time for the main feast.” She teased lightly, causing Sigefrid’s chest to rumble with laughter. 

“I am not hungry.” Sigefrid chuckled with a sly grin, flicking his tongue over his lips. 

“Of course not.” Pressing her forehead against his, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. “Well, I am starving. After tonight I am not going anywhere. I promise.” Blædswith soothed, tracing her fingers down the length of his arm, until she reached his hand. Taking it in her own, she raised his knuckles to her lips and gently kissed each one. “I have denounced the Christian God. My engagement is invalid…” Blædswith courteously pushed herself off of him, adjusting her straps of her apron and pulling down her skirt to avoid flashing the entire hall. “I am a free woman.”

“Not anymore.” Sigefrid smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Blædswith could ask what trouble he was up to, Sigefrid blew through a large horn, immediately gaining the hall’s attention. Blædswith was left standing upon wobbly legs, flustered and breathless. Her entire body was flushed pink, nearly matching the color of her apron. Even a half-conscious drunk could look at her tangled hair and know what she and Lord Sigefrid had been up to - there was no keeping it a secret. 

The entire mead hall fell silent, except for a quiet hum of music in the near distance.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sigefrid began, “I have something to say, to each of you.” A low murmur rose out of suspicion. “You will now be disappointed to know, that Lady Blædswith of Wessex, here, is now mine.” He couldn’t help himself but to chuckle haughtily. “No man is to touch her. Not with his hands, and not with his tiny cock… unless he wishes to lose it.” As he raised his hand-blade to the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile down at the beautiful woman whose warm hand rested upon his chest - a feeling he would truly never grow tired of. 

From across the hall, the sight of his brother gazing down upon the woman he admired warmed Erik’s heart, seeing as Sigefrid’s gentler side rarely saw the light of day.

“What about our wealth? Our promised glory?” An older, toothless Dane called out, followed by an uproar of support from those standing around him. 

“Blædswith is a great warrior, whom I have grown fond of.” Sigefrid argued with a scowl, glaring down at his followers. “She is far more valuable, than any silver.” 

Blædswith let go of Sigefrid’s armor, and stepped forward to address the room. “I hope it brings you peace, knowing that I am no longer a Christian. I am not your enemy, but King Alfred’s. It would bring me no greater joy than to raid Wessex and pillage my father’s wealth. If you will accept me, as a Dane, I shall reward you greatly.” Blædswith could feel Sigefrid’s chest press against her back as he protectively stood by her side. 

After a few moments of silence, cheering and applause rang throughout the entire hall. Upon Sigefrid’s request, a slave girl brought them each a third cup of ale, in which Blædswith raised into the air and shouted, “Sköl!” 

Immediately following, Sigefrid, Erik, and those in support sang in unison, “Sköl!” and the night’s festivities continued on. Once finished with their ale, the unlikely Saxon-Dane duo found themselves laughing, singing, and dancing to the upbeat rhythm that was sure to play into the early hours of the morning. Sigefrid found himself upon his throne once more, arms wrapped around Blædswith’s waist who sat across his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, playfully nipping and planting kissed along the marks he’d already left. The two swayed back and forth to the music, engrossing themselves in the stories being told at the table before them.

“Sigefrid?” The beautiful woman sitting upon his thighs whispered, running her fingertips over the length of his beard. Sigefrid hummed in response, brushing fallen strands of hair from her ethereal complexion. “I have… something else to ask you...” Interrupting her train of thought, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of strikingly familiar face slithering through the clusters of Danes until they reached the table where Lord Sigefrid and his new woman sat enthralled with one another. 

“Why is he here?” She groaned against Sigefrid’s neck, only for the eldest lord of Beamfleot to shake his head with a sigh in defeat.

With a large cup of ale in hand, a disfigured Hæsten took one last gulp and let the cup fall from his fingertips, now rolling under the table. Before Blædswith, or even Sigefrid could properly react, he looked between them and slurred, “Sigefrid. Blædswith? What did I miss?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: Well Hæsten, it’s safe to say you missed a lot - lol. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I hope it was worth it! 

I’m contemplating whether or not to add real smut to the story... 👀

🏷 Tags: (hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat @beesbrains @godricsvalley @alina-exe @lazypeachsoul

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Alan’s comfort

This was something I wanted to write about TOS Alan (and maybe continue on with this series of mini-fics... I don’t know lol)

But I like to thank @myladykayo, @katblu42 (and Red, I forgot your tumblr name, sorry *sweatdrop*)

(Also tagging: @mothmandalore, @dreamycloud, @jacksonstarkiller, @uniwolfcorn. You are very welcome ;)

-0-0-0-

Alan shut the door behind him and stomped across his bedroom to crash into his bed headfirst. He felt tired. Physically… and emotionally.

The arguments with his dad were getting the tole on him. He felt he was getting nowhere, despite his greatest efforts. Why was he getting nowhere? He doesn’t fucking know! (If Scott would’ve heard his thoughts, he would’ve called him out to watch his profanity.)

He flipped to his back and looked up at the ceiling. He let out a long sigh, letting out the bottled-up frustration he had with his life. He felt that anything he tried wasn’t enough. Another sigh. Followed by a tiny whine.

 Being the youngest one was hard.

 Alan listened to the clock on his nightstand ticking away. Time passed slowly for the young blond. His breathe felt he had been chocking on the air of the island. It wasn’t just the heat. His family was suffocating him.

 He needed fresh air. So, Alan got up and kneeled to reach something under his bed. It was a box. A big box. He opened it, revealing stacks of some magazines. A collection that he had since he was fourteen. He took them out and opened to a certain page, one by one. He felt a sense of calm when he looked at them and its not from nostalgia. He laid them on the floor and sat on the rim of the bed to looked over to the open magazines.

 Alan let himself lost on the contents of the pages, relieving his frustration, but his anger was still fresh. He didn’t notice his door opened; a shadow slipped in holding a glimmering silver tray. He didn’t notice the figure laying down the tray on the nightstand before looming next to him. It wasn’t until he felt a warm wrinkled hand placed on his shoulder.

 “Have some tea, Mr. Alan,” said the figure, “it should help you ease your temper.”

 At first, the young blonde didn’t bother to look up at the guest. But then he did, his dim ocean blue eyes met with reassuring old eyes of peridot.

 “Oh… Hi Kyrano,” he greeted lamely.

 The father of Tin-Tin gently rubbed his shoulder before reaching out for the cup of tea and handed to the young adult. Alan wordlessly took it and slowly sipped the warm liquid.

 Kyrano noticed the magazines laying on the floor, immediately recognizing the contents inside, “I see the Kamen Riders give you some sort of comfort,” he pointed out.

 Alan nodded. Taking another sip before replying, “They had always been…”

 He remembered when he opened a random magazine at a thrift store after what it seemed to be a bad day at school, he turned to a particular page that struck a chord in him. A page filled with blurry pictures of the legendary Kamen Riders. Fighting whatever was terrorizing the place where people lived. Titles yelling, “WHO ARE THOSE BUGMEN?!” and texts summarizing a short history about them. It sparked curiosity withing Alan and… since then he became fond of them. Reading every news paper and magazine and listening to every radio and TV about those mysterious, bike ridding bug-eyed heroes.

 Alan’s eyes never left the magazine that started it all, in which Kyrano noticed.

 “Out of curiosity, what aspects of them make you feel comfort?” the elder asked.

 The young blonde said nothing. But his thoughts answered for him: They are cool! They are fascinating! The mystery behind them sends thrills of excitement in him. And the fact that they help and save people as the fight threats and monsters (which they are a mystery on their own), and still do to this day! And… They are respected. Yeah… Respected.

 Kyrano must’ve read his thoughts because the elder suddenly spoke, “I know what you were thinking, Mr. Alan. You wanted to be treated the way most of the world treated those bug-eyed heroes. But I am sure those Riders are just as human as you are.”

 Alan knew that. He swore looking at the blurry pictures on the papers and the captured footage on TV, he saw glimpses of them either helping, support and respect each other in smallest gestures! But course, he also saw glimpses of their shortcomings, but does that matter? They were human as much as he could see!

And there times when, basing on the facts from witness reports he could find, a Rider would do something so dangerous, so reckless and over the top, just to save a person’s life, yet their fellows would either just give a fist bump, a tight hug (although very rare), or just any simple gesture of “good job!”.

 His family on the other hand, especially after missions, would scold him for doing something so reckless.  It was getting hard to stay professional. He felt like an underdog. A child! And the only people who treated the way he was supposed to, was Tin-Tin (albeit a little), Brains, Lady Penelope, Parker, his grandmother and even Kyrano!

 “Drink your tea, Alan. You are getting angry again,” kindly reminded Kyrano.

 Alan snapped out of his thoughts looked at Kyrano, then he shook his head, “No, not really. Sort of…” he took another sip.

 Tin-Tin’s father simply stood next to him like a shadow. But it was a reassuring shadow. A quiet shadow that listens but never judges.

 With another sigh, Alan continued, “Its just… There were times where I wish I was a Kamen Rider. Not just because to have cool powers and all, but… because I would feel respected. Respected for my efforts of helping people. For my willingness to reach out my hand to those in peril. I barely get that here. At least that’s how I felt on this island…”

 He then turned to lock eyes with the old man, “Do you think the Kamen Riders will accept me?”

 Kyrano’s eyes widen for a moment. But Alan waited, patiently. Then, the elder finally answered “Well… don’t you think they already have, after that rescue?”

 Alan knew what he was talking about. That rescue with the building fire. The rescue when International Rescue and Kamen Riders have met for the first time. It was a shock, for him and his brothers. One moment they were attacked by some monsters and then the next thing they knew they were saved by the masked bugmen.

 “But what do you mean by that, Kyrano?” Alan raised a curious brow.

 “Well? What have you felt when that certain Rider that you’ve been recently fond with gave you the thumbs up?”

 The young blonde remembered that moment like it was yesterday. When the red Rider lifted his hand and gave Alan (and his brothers) a thumbs up. He thought he had never felt such complete satisfaction after coming back from a mission.

 Alan couldn’t help but to smile.

 “I see…” Kyrano said softly, the corner of his lips slightly raised upwards.

 “But… dad said we shouldn’t trust them… at least not yet!” the young blonde then pouted as he sipped his tea again. Maybe a bit of a gulp.

 Suddenly Tin-Tin’s father snorted, causing Alan’s head to shoot up and stared at him in confusion. Kyrano began explaining calmly, “Ah, Mr. Tracy sure is a wise man. But sometimes he forgets about knowing your allies. In this case, I am very sure the Kamen Riders have a long-recorded history. From what I had seen, they were complicated… but they were mostly good.”

 “Really?” the blue ocean eyes sparkled like the stars he loved.

 “See it for yourself. Don’t take my word for it,” smiled Kyrano honestly.

 The elder turned his heel and went towards the door. But not before turning back and said, “I shall return once you have finished your tea, Mr. Alan,” and then left quietly just as he came in.

 It was no wonder Kyrano was his dad’s close friend, thought Alan.

 His lips stretched into a face-splitting grin. His anger that boiled earlier simmered into a bubbling excitement. Looking down to look at the Kamen Riders in the magazines one more time, he picked them all up and put them back into the box. Then pushed the big carton container back into its place under his bed.

 Getting up, he walked over to a big aquarium, where his Pygmy Alligator was watching him the whole time. The mini gator excitedly crawled up the glass from, looking quite happy for his human friend. Alan smiled as he gently petted his reptile, cheeking the temperature and humidity of the enclosure and looked for anything he should clean.

 Then he looked up the clock… An hour and a half before his Pygmy Alligator needed to be fed. Alan sat next to his mini gator’s aquarium, thinking about what he should do before feeding time.

Then, a thought flashed through his mind. With a cheeky smile, the young blond turned to his gator, “I guess I should follow Kyrano’s advice. Don’t you think, Artemis?”

 The Pygmy Alligator seemed like he’s smiling at him.

 With a grin, Alan got up and went to fetch his laptop before returning to sit next to Artemis. His curiosity began peeking as soon as he opened his custom computer. His inner child thirst for knowledge as he typed in the fist thing that came to his mind:

 … Kamen Rider… Kuuga…

[and-there-were-words]

A Spider Life: You don't belong here (Chapter 03)

Taking place after “Sleep Bug” but before “Dumpling Destruction”.

After a successful mission, there was no time for a long rest. Though, Syntax decided that a little bit of a break didn’t hurt anyone. He was foolish to think that Huntsman would let him be at peace. (Wordcount: around 1300)

---

Blue filled the entire main hall of the Silk Web Cave. The looming forms and shades of their new project towering over all. It was certainly odd to watch these new plans of a mech he hadn't designed himself. Something about it struck the scientist as odd, but he wasn't well versed enough in sorcery and ancient artifacts to really know which item was supposed to do what. It didn't help that basically nobody but the little Miss Mystery knew exactly how any of this was going to work.

But they finally did have a more tangible goal. And one more good thing came out of this whole treasure hunt – Syntax had not to do any research where to find said items, since the girl seemed to already know where they were.

As questionable as this was, his Queen did not raise any concerns about this knowledge, so why should he? Instead, he took the opportunity of free time to work on his own projects. He had to overhaul their Spider Base blueprints, repair some of the Spiderbots and… actually. On second thought, after his successful heist into the Cloud, he deserved an evening of rest. Just leaning back a little, kicking up the feet, maybe coding some new games and programs. When he wasn’t working on machines, he still could experiment with them. It was a blessing when one's job was also their hobby.

Walking deeper into the tunnel system of the lair, Syntax found the little niche that he had claimed for himself. Mostly to sleep and keep a few of his more important items safe. Not that he had many, but it still was a comfort to have a little bit of autonomy, away from all those watchful spider eyes. The scientist hummed, and with the lab coat off, he was officially clocked out for the day.

Sleeves were neatly folded up to the elbows, his utility goggles snapped away. Magic was so handy! He lingered for a moment, holding bright green glasses in hands. Syntax wasn’t entirely sure how or why, but he found himself oddly sentimental over them. Even though one of the lenses had a crack. His eyes were perfectly fine too, so anything looked blurry trough them, rendering them practically useless. With a shrug, he put them back into his little box of trinkets, turning around to his personal computer.

…..

There was not really any sense of time within the Silk Web Cave, not that it mattered much. Hours could’ve pass by and the only indicator that the world was still turning, was that his coffee always grew cold way too fast. Running another test for his current code, Syntax frowned as errors popped up where none had been before. He reached for his cup without looking, first confused about something not being right. It took him a few seconds to notice that he was grabbing into thin air. His cup was not at the spot where he placed it anymore.

“What’cha doing?”, a raspy voice required from his other side, making the scientist jerk violently, nearly falling off his chair. A groan escaped Syntax, slightly turning his head to confirm his apprehension. And indeed, it was Huntsman. With his coffee mug in hands. It was bothersome how he always managed to sneak up unnoticed and seemingly appear out of nowhere. The other spider was not even looking at him directly, just watching the screen displaying an endless amounts of lines with mock interest. It was clear that the hunter had no idea what he was looking at, and Syntax knew that trying to explain any of this to him would be wasted breath. Still, he thought himself better than that.

“Optimizing the behavioral pattern of the Spiderbots. So next time we can spread the Queen’s venom faster.”, he left it at that, starting to tip away on the keyboard again.

“Uh-hu.”, the spider demon mused, but it was clear that this wasn't the focus of his attention at the moment. Instead, he just sniffed at the drink in his hand, nose curling up a little. “...I have no idea how you’re capable of drinking this stuff. Gross.” And with that, the cup was back on the table within Syntax’s reach, but the scientist didn’t dare to touch it. This was obviously a trap, both of them knew. Huntsman never had been subtle about waiting for the other to make a misstep. Syntax wasn't sure what the taller man hoped to achieve, but there was a bitter taste at the back of his throat with how he was watched by this particular spider demon.

Tension filled the room, making the air as thick as butter, as both men were just analyzing each other carefully. It almost felt like a game of chess, one that Syntax didn’t like at all, being forced to play so damn defensively. He still wasn’t sure what he did to upset the hunter, but he clearly was out for his neck in some way or another. It was Huntsman who broke the silence, and to no one's surprise, he just unceremoniously kicked down the metaphorical door.

"You don't belong here.", the spider rasped, stalking awfully close, only to loom over the sitting scientist. Green eyes glimmering in the twilight of the cave, mostly illuminated by just the cold light of the computer screen. Syntax could only swallow, feeling caged like a prey animal under this intense glare.

"You're a disgrace to the clan, human.", the hunter continued his venomous words, "Do you really think you're important to the Queen? Nothing but just a tool, once you've done your purpose, you will be nothing but dinner." The demon cackled, and Syntax could feel his body going into a panic mode. Yet, his mind was still clear, rational. The buzzing crawling up his spine keeping him grounded.

Syntax simply clicked his tongue in a (what he hoped to come off as) unimpressed tsk. "Is that all? I am busy, Huntsman.", he was not going to give in that easily, even though the words were cutting deep, slicing into something that the scientist hadn't even been aware of himself yet.

The hunting spider frowned, letting out a soft growl. Only to grab the coffee mug again, giving it another glance. Apparently, he came to a conclusion in this moment. "You'll never be one of us, freak.", the second that followed felt like an eternity, before ceramic shattered into hundreds of pieces, cold coffee splattering all over the floor. A pang of some emotion shot through Syntax's chest, watching the mess on the ground. Somehow managing to not show a glimpse of this storm of feelings on the outside.

Huntsman almost seemed disappointed, but a breath later, he was showing off fangs in his ugly grin again. A hand reaching for the communicator in his ear as he was surely contacted by the Miss. "Now, this was fun and all.", he mused, crossing arms behind his back as he twirled towards the exit. "It seems that my special skills are needed once again. So long, cyberbug." With that, the hunter was gone, leaving the scientist finally alone.

So much for that rest, Syntax thought bitterly to himself, still staring at the floor. This evening or night had been ruined in every way possible. Now trying to make sense of why his limbs felt so cold and stiff, why his heart was beating in the rhythm of a scared animal while also screaming in anger. His hands clenched into fists, short nails digging into soft palms. Syntax knew all of this already. Knew that this wasn't his place, that he wasn't like the other spider demons. But he was part of this clan, and by the Queen's pride… he will prove that he was a better henchman than Huntsman could ever dream to be.

[plus-size-reader]

Never Gone

Brahms Heelshire x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1330 words

Warnings: I’m gonna be honest, I’m not a huge fan of this one. I do love Brahms tho so this is kind of just dipping my toe in to writing his character.

Summary: The reader was close to Brahms as a kid, but could never predict this.

——————————————————————————————————

Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire had always been bubbly and bright, frequently coming into your father’s toy store with their young son Brahams in tow.

At that time, he had been about your age, just a little boy, but you always kept him company as he ran about the toy shop, searching for whatever seemed to suit his fancy.

For all the time the two of you spent together, you were the best of friends, and nothing could change that. You looked forward to his visits more and more often.

Though, that had all come to an end after the fire.

You remembered the day that you found out they’d lost him, that you found out he was gone. The entire town was talking about it, and while you were young, you knew what it meant.

You knew that he was gone.

The Heelshire’s rarely left their mansion in the first place but after the death of their son, those trips into town became even fewer and far between.

Even now, some twenty years later, you rarely saw the two of them. Talk around town said that the pair of them had practically become reclusive in their old age and frankly, you couldn’t blame them.

If you had been through what they had, you would be just as reclusive as any other.

The pub gossip wasn’t fair to them, or what they’d lost.

Still, when you didn’t pay that any mind, especially not when that letter came to your house, asking if you would help them. You hadn’t spoken to either of the Heelshire’s for a number of years, but nothing was going to stop you from seeing them.

Knowing just who they were, and knowing all that they’d been through, you wanted to do anything you could to help ease the strain they’d been through.

Besides, you’d just recently lost your father a few years ago, and it could be good for you to spend some time with a few familiar faces.

A blast from the past, so to speak.

~

The door knocker was heavy, likely rusted due to years and years of neglect but it opened nonetheless when you turned the knob. You didn’t get an answer as soon as you knocked but you were sure they were here.

Neither Heelshire had anything to do during the day, not since they both retired.

Still, when the door opened, you found the home in a state of disarray with no one in sight.

...Or so you thought.

You entered the house cautiously, making sure to close the front door behind you before continuing further into the Heelshire manor. You had no idea where they were, but you just hoped they were alright. There was stuff everywhere, bookshelves knocked over and decorative knick-knacks scattered about everywhere. Something had definitely happened here.

As best you could tell, it was probably a robbery but nonetheless, you grabbed a fire poker from the rack by the fireplace, just in case.

Best case, you were alone, but worst case, whoever had done this was still here with you.

“Is anyone there?” you called, after a brief argument with yourself over whether or not that would be a good idea. You didn’t really want to let anyone know you were there but you could have just been overreacting.

Perhaps there had been some kind of accident and Mrs. Heelshire was going to come down the stairs to tell you about it, but you had to be prepared if that wasn’t the case.

You held that iron rod close to your body as you rounded the first hallway toward Brahm’s bedroom. You had only been in the house once or twice, but you knew where that was at least.

It was as good a place as any to start.

...And apparently, you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

You approached the room gingerly, being as cautious as possible, though you didn’t really expect to find anything. However, that proved rather foolish almost immediately.

The room wasn’t empty as you’d been expecting, with a single figure crouched down on the floor.

You didn’t recognize the figure, a tall male with dark hair and a broad chest blooming with hair. There was one thing you recognized though, and that was the mask he was wearing.

That mask was an exact replica of that doll Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire found shortly after the house fire. It was the doll they called Brahms.

“Who are you? What is going on?” you gasped immediately, involuntarily stepping back until you hit the wall opposite his bedroom.

You had no idea who he was, but you were pretty sure that this whole thing was going to be the last of your life. Whoever this was, he could kill you and no one would ever know.

As best you could tell, you now knew that Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire were nowhere to be found, which meant that you were now completely alone with this looming figure.

There were no words at first, when Brahms took notice of you standing there, as he tried to figure you out. There was something familiar about you, something he couldn’t place.

However, it wasn’t until you spoke again that he realized just who you were.

“Take that mask off. You have no right to anything regarding Brahms” you grumbled finally, no longer caring that this looming figure could probably kill you where you stood.

The entire thing was very disrespectful to a child who perished in a terrible accident, and you weren't going to tolerate that. Though, that very sentence was what shone the light on your identity.

You said his name just like you used to, with that kind of strangeness that you always had and no amount of time could wash away that memory.

“How did you even get in here?” you grumbled, reaching out to turn on the light, assuming that would help clarify who you were talking to. The village was small, and there was a good chance you’d recognize this mystery person.

...Or so you thought.

As you spoke, the figure stood from where he’d been crouched, making it clear that he was much larger than you’d have originally thought.

You had never seen anyone this tall and looming in your life and there was certainly no one of that build in town.

“It’s been a long, long time hasn’t it?” he spoke finally, that deep grizzled tone sending a shiver up your spine. It implied that he knew you in some way, but you had no clue who he was.

Frankly, you hadn’t been this scared in a long time and all the nerve you’d built up before quickly faded away.

“Who are you?” you repeated, your voice small in comparison to his own, though you were trying to act tough.

All you could hear was your own shallow breathing in the close space between your two bodies. He was staring down at you with this cold determination in his eyes, staring at you from behind that mask.

It was horrifying, or at least, it should have been.

For some reason, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, but you had no idea who he was. It didn’t click for you until he reached down to retrieve the small golden chain from your blouse, his fingers lingering there for a moment.

For anyone else, it would have been nothing more than a small, innocent gesture but for you, it told you everything you needed to know.

It was the necklace you’d been gifted, by him, for your eighth birthday.

You’d kept it all this time, wearing it every single day in his memory, but there was no way he could have known that. Hell, you didn’t even know what was happening right now.

“Brahms? How is this possible? You died”

...Or maybe he didn’t.

In any case, this was not how you thought today was going to go.

[ao3komorii]

The Last Hope of a Fallen Prince (FEH Lif/Reader)

This is the last of the Fire Emblem oneshots I’ve written, so enjoy! :) Lif is definitely my fav FEH guy for obvious reasons so I wanted to write a nice story for him! The only other Fire Emblem thing I have right now is a semi-written Sylvain oneshot, but I’m not sure when I’ll get around to finishing it.

For clarity purposes, Reader in this story is Kiran from Lif’s world, not from the main FEH world, but still no names or name blanks are used. Also, to make things easier on everyone, Lif is always referred to as Lif and Alfonse is referred to as Alfonse even if other characters address Lif by his other name. Also, there is smut at the end! ----

You had held out hope, but you felt your heart shatter as Hel’s scythe swiped across Sharena’s back. Alfonse’s cry for his sister rang out loudly in the otherwise deathly quiet battlefield in time with your gasp as Sharena’s body hit the ground. You weren’t given a moment to process the loss of your fallen friend when Alfonse screamed your name from across the battlefield at the same time as you felt a looming presence behind you as a scythe was lowered to your neck, gleaming with sinister purple energy.

“So pitiful,” Hel remarked dispassionately. “You had no chance against death.”

Alfonse was still running towards you, his sword drawn as tears streamed down his face. But Hel was death, and death did not care to give any fighting chances. Death would take lives unfairly, and one last cry of your name from Alfonse was the last thing you heard before the scythe was brought back into your neck, ending what little fight you had left as Hel let you fall limply to the ground, her job done and this world conquered of its resistance to her nature.

“We won’t be able to defeat Hel unless we can get Líf’s help,” Anna admitted reluctantly. “I wish I could think of any other way.”

“I don’t know how to get through to him,” Alfonse lamented. “I know that we’re the same person, but I couldn’t imagine serving Hel. I fear that the other me’s heart may be out of our reach.”

The group looked around, in low spirits, but nobody volunteered any ideas. At least a few minutes passed in this deep mist of looming defeat until the princess of Askr raised her head suddenly, staring ahead at the summoner and alerting Anna’s attention.

“What is it, Sharena?” Anna asked, a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Summoner!” Sharena exclaimed. “I have a plan that may be tricky, but it could be our last hope of reaching the Alfonse of this world.”

Sharena looked over to her brother, who looked troubled, but nodded back to her. “You have been able to summon heroes from any point in their lives, right?” she asked the summoner, and received a nod in reply.

“But we’re nowhere near the summoning stones!” Alfonse protested.

“And who could we summon that can convince Líf to help us?” Anna added.

Sharena smiled confidently at the others, but kept her focus on the summoner. “Even without the summoning stones, your Breidablik connects you to other worlds, so couldn’t it connect you to your other self?”

“You’re saying that she should try to summon the summoner from Líf’s world, when she was still alive?” Anna probed, thinking about it for a few seconds before a fire ignited in her eyes. “That could work! After all, if he’s anything like our Alfonse, Líf must care for his summoner a great deal. She might be the only one to make him see reason!”

“Anna!” Alfonse protested, face red with embarrassment.

“That’s what I was thinking!” Sharena replied excitedly. “My brother would do anything for her!”

Anna and Sharena grinned at each other, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time, while the embarrassed prince and summoner stared anywhere but at each other, cheeks warm. While she looked at the ground, the summoner considered this idea. If she could reach her other self, just before she was killed by Hel… it could save everyone. Líf would not listen to her, but he was determined to save his own summoner. She would give it a try, she decided, raising Breidablik as the heroes around her all fell silent, hoping their summoner would be able to pull off a miracle.

Sharena was gone, taken cruelly by Hel’s scythe that had already taken so many lives. Before you could blink, she was upon you, blade poised to take your life. Alfonse could not stop this, you knew that much for sure. You closed your eyes, too scared to look at Alfonse as tears rolled down your cheeks. You opened your eyes again as the scythe advanced on your neck, Alfonse screaming your name, but then everything around you dulled slightly.

As Hel swung her scythe towards your flesh, you felt a hum from your Breidablik, hanging at your side. You quickly reached down to touch it, and as soon as you did, you felt a pull. In front of your eyes, you saw a light so bright that it made you close your eyes in fear of being blinded. And above all, you felt that someone needed your help, that they just needed you to reach back towards them with your Breidablik. Your only other option was certain death, and so you reached back, straining yourself to make the connection between you and the mysterious force absolute.

Your body felt light for a moment, and you had no idea what was happening. You opened your eyes only when the aggressive light surrounding you dimmed, and then you finally opened your eyes and realized that you were not in Hel’s clutches anymore. Your first thought was that you had died, that this was some heaven where you could be with your friends again. But then you caught sight of a familiar figure, one you had only seen before in mirrors or clear, reflective ponds.

It was you, surrounded by Anna, Alfonse, Sharena, Eir and all the other heroes you had come to know as friends and allies. Your eyes stuck on Sharena especially; you had just watched her die, she should be dead. You took a staggered step towards her, then another, and then just ran at her, wrapping your arms around her as she cried out in surprise. She raised her arms to hug you back, and allowed you to stay like that for a moment before you pulled apart. You were so happy to see all of them, but were met with sad, pitying gazes, which made you feel like you were missing some important piece of information.

“Summoner!” Anna addressed you. “There’s something we must tell you.”

You were feeling on edge, and stared at Anna warily, which she took as a sign to continue. “We’re from an alternate world to yours, and you’re the only one who can save our world.”

You reeled back in surprise, unintentionally meeting eyes with your other self, who removed her hood to let you see that she looked exactly like you. Sharena looked uncomfortable, but she stepped closer to you, and looked like she was forcing herself to speak up.

“Your world was destroyed by Hel. She left only my brother and Veronica alive, and she told them that for every person from our world they killed, one person from your world would be saved.”

“Alfonse…” You couldn’t believe it. “He serves Hel?”

Alfonse also stepped forward as his name was called. “I cannot imagine it myself, but the other me could not handle the loss of his world and is unwilling to help us fight Hel.”

“He goes by Líf now,” Anna added. “And while we do not have the power to bring your world back, we think that you are the only one who can convince Líf to help us defeat Hel once and for all.”

This was all so sudden that you were having a hard time processing everything. You couldn’t believe your sweet, kind Alfonse would serve Hel, but in your last moments in your world, you saw the devastation in his eyes. This did not seem like a nightmare of Hel’s creation, so you had no choice but to take them at their word. If Líf was the only thing standing in the way of Hel’s defeat, then you would do anything in your power to convince him. You would make him see that he was not alone.

“I’ll help you,” you agreed.

“Thank you!” Sharena cheered. “He may not be from my world, but he is still my brother, and I don’t want to see him do this to himself any longer.”

“Then we move out!” Alfonse announced. “If we venture further into Hel’s domain, Líf is sure to make an appearance.”

As everyone separated and prepared to move out, Anna approached you with Eir by her side.

“I just wanted to warn you, you may not recognize what your Alfonse has become,” she said sadly. “It has been years since his world perished, and he has grown, warped by Hel’s influence. But no matter what he looks like, you must remember that he is the same man he was when you last saw him.”

Eir bowed her head slightly to you, face full of sorrow. “I am deeply sorry for the pain my mother has caused you,” she apologized.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied. “But I’m just scared to see what is left of Alfonse. I don’t know if I can get through to him.”

“Hey, are you doubting an Anna-approved plan?” Anna joked, forcing a grin on her face. “If you can’t convince him, we’ll make another plan. But everyone here believes in you!”

You couldn’t help a small smile; Anna’s enthusiasm really was infectious. And she was right; if you gave up here, that meant that you were giving up on Alfonse too. You would save him, you would make him see reason. You were nervous to see for yourself exactly what had happened to him in the years that had been seconds for you. As gloomy as the situation seemed, the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to see him.

“We’re ready to march out,” Alfonse announced, startling you as you hadn’t even realized that he had approached your group.

“Right, I’m going to make sure we’re not low on any supplies!” Anna said, giving you a smile and a wave as she went on her way, Eir looking between you and Alfonse before hurrying after Anna.

You stared at their backs as they left, and Alfonse slowly approached you. When you finally looked over at him, he had pity in his eyes, but held your gaze. You felt mixed feelings as you stared at him; he looked like your Alfonse, at least the last time you had seen him only an hour ago, but he wasn’t of your world. You were the stranger here, and while everyone had been kind to you, you felt lonely.

“I’ve talked with him before… the other me,” Alfonse said as you both turned your heads to watch Anna conduct her final checks on the supplies. “He’s doing what he thinks is right. That is the only way he has to reconcile things in his own mind.”

“I can’t imagine how things have been for him,” you admitted. “For me, it’s been no time at all, but he’s gone years without anybody.”

“I’m sorry that we are asking so much of you,” Alfonse said. “But the way he is now, Líf will not listen to us. Someone from his world, someone important to him like you is the best hope we have.”

You were embarrassed to hear him speak so openly about your importance to Líf. The Alfonse you knew had a lot of trouble being open with his emotions, but maybe it was easier for him to talk about because he technically wasn’t speaking about himself. You were sure that both of you felt awkward; it was hard for you to see Alfonse, but know that he wasn’t the Alfonse that you knew, and he clearly didn’t know how to comfort you, likely blaming himself in some way for his other self’s actions.

Alfonse’s attention was drawn away from you when Anna signalled him forward as the army began to march out. He started forward, but then stopped, remembering that you were still there. They had a battle to fight, so you couldn’t take even more of his time.

“Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” you told him, and he looked reluctant, but nodded and headed to meet Anna at the front of the army.

You followed behind, staying in the middle of the pack. You noticed stares from the heroes around you, but nobody approached you. You knew that they were all uncertain of what to say to you. You looked exactly like their own summoner, but unlike her, your world and everyone you cared about here was dead, all but Alfonse. You didn’t blame them; you wouldn’t know what to say to you either.

“I really think you can do it.”

You hadn’t noticed Sharena approach you, but she matched your pace to walk by your side.

“I know that we’re not from your world, but we’re all by your side,” she added. “It doesn’t matter what world you’re from, you’re still my friend!”

“Thanks, Sharena,” you replied as you both began to walk up a desolate hill.

“I know the other me would want us keep your spirits up!” she said resolutely. “Just leave it to your best pal, Sharena!”

Her cheerfulness was helping you feel better. You needed to keep your morale up if you were to get through to Líf. But you worried about what he was like now; would he even listen to you, or recognize you? Your Breidablik had disappeared the moment you had been teleported here, and you didn’t know if he would take you at your word that you were you. A part of you also worried that he would just attack you upon seeing you. You had no idea at all what to expect.

“What does he look like?” you asked Sharena what you had been wondering for a while.

Sharena furrowed her eyebrows; not upset, but in a way that you felt she wasn’t sure exactly where to start. Her lack of an immediate answer made you assume the worst, your mind coming up with dozens of gruesome scenarios.

“Is he…” You almost didn’t want to say it. “A zombie?”

Sharena’s eyes widened. “Oh… no! Not in the rotting flesh way at least!”

She cleared her throat, looking you in the eyes as she answered. “Well, he’s older… he looks at least a few years older. I always thought he would look more like father when he got older, but…”

You nodded politely and Sharena sheepishly apologized for getting off track. “There is a lot that you will have to see for yourself, but just remember that he is still the same prince that hid in his room when he had to wear his hare outfit!” she giggled. “At least I assume he had one in your world too!”

“He did,” you confirmed, a smile lighting your face at the memory.

“He’s too awkward!” she teased. “I had to trick him into leaving his room!”

“His bunny ears were so cute,” you added.

“I know!” Sharena agreed. “Very worth the fight I had to put up to get him to wear them!”

As you walked along, the scenery changed even further. You supposed that maybe you would recognize this place if it looked like it did years ago, but the land was poisoned with death, warped away from familiarity. The grass was dead and grey, crumbling into dust under your feet. Hel had drained the soul from this place, and wouldn’t stop her conquest unless you stopped her. You would have to believe that there was a way to kill death. You didn’t want these heroes and their world to suffer the same fate as yours had.

The next hill opened up to a large valley, a river flowing down the middle that was bordered by trees on either side. You were observing the livelier than usual scenery when the silent march was interrupted by some cries from the back of the army.

“It’s an ambush!” you heard, and Sharena immediately drew her lance as she turned to face the group of dark mages that had gathered for a sneak attack from behind you.

“Get to the valley!” Alfonse shouted, rushing over to the back while Anna began leading the troops to a better position, all rushing down towards the valley.

The order’s mages launched a counterattack, which allowed Alfonse and Sharena to take the mages down cleanly. You followed behind Anna’s group; you figured that it would be safer for you to be with the majority of the army. In your haste, you stumbled on a dip in the hill and fell forward, tumbling down a few feet, which ended up being a good thing as a blast of dark energy sailed over your head and impacted the area where you had just been.

You looked up, startled by the sudden attempt on your life to see enemies emerging from the opposing hill that overlooked the valley. You realized immediately that you were all sitting ducks running into a trap. The rest of the army had gotten fully down the hill, and hadn’t noticed the threat yet. You had to warn them.

“They’re on the hills!” you screamed desperately. “Get to the trees!”

Anna looked back at you, nodding quickly before giving the order for the army to set up a vantage point in the large outcropping of trees in the valley. With a resounding cry, the enemy troops began to rush down the hills, and you realized that you had to move. You heard Sharena shout your name, and you stumbled to your feet as she and Alfonse ran down the hill towards you.

Sharena helped you down the hill as Alfonse rushed to meet the coming enemies with the rest of the army. You looked up at the charging troops of the dead as they approached, wanting to find Líf with your eyes, but you didn’t see anyone who looked anything like Alfonse.

You did however notice a woman with long flaxen hair who seemed to be staring directly at you, even from all the way across the valley. You wanted to point her out to Sharena, but when you looked back, the mysterious woman was gone. You turned back to Sharena as you both entered the trees to make your way to regroup with everyone, mind still on the woman. You saw a flash of green, and only heard Sharena’s cry before she tackled you to the ground, the spot where you had just been scorched and your cloak singed at the ends by sparks from the powerful magic.

Sharena was up in an instant. “Thrasir!”

Looking at the mage up close, her hands glowing with green energy, you were scared. Without even Breidablik to defend yourself, you were a clear burden on Sharena in this fight. Alfonse had gone ahead of you, so you and Sharena were alone here. Sharena pointed her lance at the impassive woman, who stared past her at you, her stare unnerving you. Why couldn’t you shake off a sense of familiarity as you looked at her?

Sharena blocked the first blast of magic, but it was clearly a losing battle. Thrasir targeted you with her magic, and it was all Sharena could do to block the spells before they got to you, not gaining any ground in the fight because she had to protect you. You tried to dodge her attacks, but it was as if Thrasir could predict your movements before you made them, getting closer to hitting you with each blast.

Sharena was having a hard time keeping up, and one well-placed feint from Thrasir finally caught Sharena in her chest, throwing her onto her back. You rushed to her, but found that she had been knocked unconscious. The woman didn’t seem to care to finish her off, her predatory eyes locked directly on you. You wanted to help Sharena, but you would have to believe that she would be okay. If you stayed here, you would die. This way, you could at least lure the mage away from Sharena and give her a fighting chance while you ran for your life.

You turned and fled, hoping that Sharena would forgive you. You didn’t hear footsteps behind you, but you knew that Thrasir was coming after you. She had easily herded you away from the rest of the army, so you would have no help unless you could get back there or someone found you. At this point, you weren’t sure which scenario was less likely to happen.

Trees around you fell to her magic as you desperately tried to dodge her attacks. You had evaded her so far, but it was at the cost of your stamina. Your chest heaved, throat burning from the effort. You were starting to slow down, and Thrasir used that to her advantage. You stumbled back, scrambling to get out of the way as Thrasir felled several trees which landed in your way, blocking your path entirely. You turned back, on your hands and knees, to watch as Thrasir approached you. You were caged in with no hope of escape. You wouldn’t even find Líf before you died. The other you’s attempt to save her world and defeat Hel had ended before you could say even one word to Líf.

You didn’t want to die here, but you couldn’t bring yourself to even look at her, burying your face in your hands as you sunk into despair for everyone who would suffer because of your death. You had let everyone down, and it was too much to take. You felt the intensity of her power as she charged it up to end your life, the wind whipping intensely around you and knocking your hood off of your head. Thrasir released the blast with a triumphant cry, and you apologized to everyone in your head for letting them down.

“You…!”

You were alive. You felt little sparks of pain, but nothing had hit you straight on. You hesitantly uncovered your eyes, immediately noticing the large figure in front of you, back turned to you and cape fluttering in the residual wind. You looked past him to see Thrasir, who looked angry.

“You’re weak!” she spat. “You know that you must kill her!”

The man did not reply, but her words made him glance back at you quickly, so quickly that you couldn’t get a good look at his face.

Thrasir glared fiercely at you, and then looked back to the man. “If you do not kill her, I will. Remember what is at stake here.”

She wasted no further time with you, moving her hand quickly and summoning a portal that she stepped into, disappearing in an instant. Your fear didn’t disappear, but you felt some tension release as there was one less imminent threat on your life. This man had saved you, but you didn’t know his motivations. You were expecting him to turn around and finish you off, so you were surprised when he conjured his own portal, all without turning to face you.

“Wait!” You didn’t know why you called out to him, but something in you drew you to him.

He finally turned, and his eyes were bright red, but you knew those eyes anywhere. You shakily stood up, body on autopilot as you moved towards him. Every step that you made towards him caused him to retreat further away from you. Was he just going to run away? He entered the portal without saying a word, and you sprinted after him, barely making it in before it closed, not knowing where it was sending you.

The feel of stale air hit you as you gasped for breath, the stress of going through the portal hitting you hard. While you were struggling, the man just ahead of you looked fine. He hadn’t turned back to look at you, but you weren’t going to let that stop you.

“I knew you would follow,” he said, and you weren’t sure what to think of his new deeper voice, tone gravelly from the weight of several hard years on his soul. “You were always too optimistic for your own good.”

He clearly assumed that you were the you from the other world, and it hurt to see him speaking about you in the past tense. You had been dead to him for years, and your heart broke for him. You didn’t know what to say, but you had to say something, had to let him know who you really were. You weren’t sure what to call him, so you decided to start out slow so that you wouldn’t throw him off the emotional deep end immediately.

“Líf…” you said, and he stopped walking away from you at the sound of your voice.

He stood still, and you took the opportunity to walk closer to him. As you did, you noticed that your surroundings seemed familiar. It was a dilapidated castle hallway, banners and portraits on the walls ripped but familiar. So this was what had become of the Askrian castle. It was broken and crumbling, much like the man who stood before you, bearing the burden of his lost world and dead loved ones. The burden of knowledge had been hard on you, but it hadn’t been years for you like it had for him.

“I should kill you,” he growled. “I need to kill you. It’s the only way.”

“You don’t understand, I’m not–”

He finally turned around, and you were shocked into silence as you finally saw the full extent of what Hel had done to him. Sharena had been accurate in her limited description, but hadn’t gone far enough in emphasizing the stark differences in the prince. His eyes glowed unnaturally red, his hair so long that it reached his neck. He was taller, broader than you remembered him being, the colors he now wore leaving no doubt as to who he served. And you couldn’t ignore the most startling part of his new appearance, his spine and ribs being visible, swathed in a ghastly blue light.

His hand was on his sword, but he seemed to be struggling to draw it as you stared each other down. You couldn’t let fear stand in your way, so you walked closer, even as he drew his sword, looking like a wounded animal. This was your only chance, and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

“Alfonse, I–”

“That is not my name anymore,” he snarled self-deprecatingly. “I threw Alfonse aside when I became this beast.”

You noticed a bright light begin to shine at his side as you approached. One step closer allowed you to discover that it was Breidablik… your Breidablik. He had kept it with him after you had died. He noticed your stare, looking down at himself to see what you were looking at. As soon as he saw the legendary weapon’s gleam, his head snapped up to look at you in confusion.

“Alfonse,” you tried again. “That’s mine. The summoner of this world brought me here right before Hel killed me. I’m–”

Your words were stifled by a loud clang as Líf’s sword slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. You couldn’t wait any longer and rushed to him, wrapping your arms around him as he slumped to the floor.

“You… you died, so long ago…” he stammered, so quietly that you could barely hear him.

“I’m alive… they saved me,” you reassured him. “The last thing I remember was you calling my name, with Hel’s scythe at my neck, and then I was here.”

Líf did not reply, but by the shaking of his body, you could tell that he was crying. You patted his back, and gradually his arms came up to wrap around your waist, his armor cold against your body. You stayed like that for a while, arms around each other, until Líf stood up, brining you up with him.

He conjured another portal, and you quickly grabbed his hand, partly worried that he would leave you again. He didn’t resist, leading you through the portal and into a very familiar room. It had been yours, back when you had lived in this castle. Everything was where you had left it, but covered in a layer of dust from lack of use.

“I come here when I need to think,” Líf admitted quietly.

You tugged on his hand and pulled him to sit at the edge of your bed with you. You wanted to comfort him with your words, but you knew nothing you could say would erase the years of pain and loneliness he had endured. You leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder and felt him freeze up. It made sense; you had never been so touchy with him before this, and you doubted that he had any affectionate contact in the years since Hel’s conquering of your world. The thought made you want to spoil him with affection, and so you leaned further into him, placing a hand over his chest, your palm against the transparent plate that covered his abdomen.

He eventually relaxed into the contact, putting an arm around you and letting you snuggle into his side. You could feel him physically release some of the tension he had held onto for years; he had you back, at the very least. But you couldn’t forget why you were here.

“Their world needs you,” you said softly, and Líf sighed.

“I know…” he admitted. “But helping them would go against Hel. If I do that, we’ll never get our world back. I’ll never see Sharena again…”

The thought was too painful, and you felt the anguish radiating from him. All you could see were his eyes, and you longed to look at the rest of his face under his jagged mask. You pulled away from him to stare into his eyes, placing your hands on either side of his mask while asking for permission with your eyes.

He nodded ever so slightly, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be bared fully to you as your hands found the latches of his mask and gently pulled it from his face. The lower half of his face was the same pallor as the rest of his face, his lips pale and cheekbones a little more prominent than they had been when you had last seen him. His eyes opened once again as his mask was removed, but he wouldn’t look at you.

“I wanted to see you again… but I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, and you could hear the sadness in his voice. “What I let Hel do to me… it’s shameful.”

“Alfonse, I don’t care what you look like. I just want to be by your side,” you replied earnestly.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” he said simply, staring at his lap.

“You do!” you protested. “You did this to yourself because you had no choice! You did this to save everyone Hel killed. All this proves to me is that your kind heart hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t have a heart anymore. It died the day I lost you, Sharena… everyone. The Heart’s Rite doomed us all.”

Your words weren’t reaching him. No matter what you said, it wasn’t enough to bring him out of his own thoughts. You desperately wanted to show him how much you cared, so you would have to be brave for him. With your heart beating rapidly in your chest, you grasped his chin, titling his head to face you. He stared at you finally, his sadness turning to a startled longing as you leaned in closer to him, so obvious about what you were intending to do that there was no room for misinterpretation. You gave him the time to reject you if he wanted to, but he didn’t, closing his eyes at the same time you did as your lips met with his.

He was cold, but the warmth of your skin slowly started to seep into him as you kissed. You were surprised that he was kissing you back considering how hard he was on himself, but it made you happy nonetheless. You had never worked up the courage to kiss him before, despite harboring a rather large crush on the prince pretty much since you had met him. Despite his current scary exterior, he was so gentle with you, as if he was afraid you would crumble under his touch.

You pulled back from him as your feelings for him overwhelmed you. He kept his eyes closed, chasing your lips until you placed a finger on his mouth, his ruby red eyes opening to look at you with silent questions evident in his expression.

“I love you,” you told him, giggling at his shock and embarrassment as he tried to hide his face from you.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, and he dropped his hands in his lap, but was still too shy to look at you.

“I… I never thought…” he stammered, and it was all you could do not to openly laugh at him. As intimidating as he tried to be, he could never fully discard the awkward nature he had always had.

You had already confessed, so you might as well go all the way in on the chance that it could help him further return to you. “Pretty much since I met you, Alfonse. You’re so handsome and kind, and you care so much for your people…”

“I’m not the same man I once was,” he answered gruffly.

“Is this your way of telling me that you don’t return my feelings?” you asked, hoping that you could trip him up and get him out of his haze of self-deprecation. You knew Alfonse, and you knew that he would never kiss anyone that he didn’t have feelings for. You desperately hoped that this part of him was still the same as it had been.

As usual, he fell right into your trap. “No, I… I do love you, but–”

“But nothing,” you interrupted coyly. “If we both like each other, then you should kiss me again.”

You successfully flustered the prince into speechlessness, the tiniest flush permeating his pale cheeks. He stared at you again, his eyes drawn to your lips, and this time he was the first one to lean over to kiss you. You knew how hard it was for him to be vulnerable, so you would make the most of this. A small part of your mind knew that your allies were waiting on you to bring them Líf’s help, but all you wanted in this moment was to comfort him. You would ask him again when romantic tensions were less high.

You let the kiss go at Líf’s pace, and he kept things slow and gentle, cradling your jaw with one hand, careful not to prick your skin with his armor. His longer hair tickled your cheeks as you pressed yourself as close to him as you could be without sitting in his lap. He leaned into you further in response, his other hand sliding into your hair. You lost track of time, and soon he began to feel tiredness creep up on you. You wanted to stay awake and keep kissing him, but Líf felt you start to droop and pulled back. He gently maneuvered your body back until you were laying down on the bed.

“Rest,” he told you softly.

“Will you–” You were too worried to voice the question out loud, scared of the answer.

He looked down at you tenderly, moving some hair from your face. “Yes, I will stay here with you.”

You smiled, crawling under the covers at last, one hand creeping out from underneath them to hold one of Líf’s hands as you relaxed enough for you to fall asleep.

Líf watched over you as you slept, keeping your hand in his as if you would disappear if he let go. No harm would likely come to you anyways; Thrasir knew that he came here occasionally, but she would not intrude on him. She wanted their world back as badly as he did, and they had come to trust each other over their years of servitude under Hel. He had to admit that he found himself wanting to do what you had been asking of him, even though it would mean going against Hel and losing his only chance to save his people. He had been a monster for so long that he hadn’t been able to see a way out, not until you came. He just didn’t know how he would explain himself to Thrasir.

He found himself staring at your lips as you slept peacefully. He still couldn’t believe you were really here, and that you could find it in your heart to love a creature like him. He had not said it out loud, but he had loved you for a long time. All these years he had spent missing you, and you were finally returned to him.

With you here, he dared to hope. He had reserved himself to being Hel’s servant in order to save his world. He had been confined to this reality for so long that he had lost sight of any other possibilities. Hel was immensely powerful, but could she really be the only being in existence that could bring a dead world back to life? Your presence had reinvigorated him, and he felt himself begin to believe that there may be other ways of accomplishing his goal.

When you woke up, he would tell you his decision. He would no longer be Hel’s puppet and damn another world to the same fate as his. Having you by his side reminded him of who he once was, and now that he had you back, he wouldn’t let you go. He would help his other self end Hel’s reign of tyranny, and free himself of his bindings to her at last.

He hadn’t seen you in so long, and you were just as beautiful as he remembered. Every time he thought of you before today, all he could see in his mind was Hel’s scythe ending your life while he was powerless to stop her. As much as he wanted to think of the good memories he had with you, the trauma of you dying before his eyes overpowered all other thoughts of you. He had always wondered what you would think of him if you saw what he had become. He had anticipated a rejection of all that he was now, but you had accepted him and his faults without batting an eye. He didn’t deserve you, but now that you were here, he would make himself someone worthy of your love.

Just staring at your sleeping face helped to stave off his more depressing thoughts. He had truly missed you; he had not been able to sleep ever since he had become like this, but just being beside you while you slept was good enough for him. He felt like he had watched your face for an eternity before you began to wake; he had been so unaware of the world around him for so long that his brain didn’t register time very well anymore. He had to assume that the Askrian army had defeated the attacking forces and would have noticed your absence by now. As soon as you were ready, he would open a portal to take you back to them so you could all join together to take Hel down once and for all.

You were so tired that you didn’t even dream. Or maybe it was an effect being in the realm of the dead. You still felt tired, but you couldn’t sleep forever, not when the Askrians of the other world needed you. You slowly opened your eyes, noting Líf’s eyes on you immediately.

“Alfonse,” you said fondly before you could stop yourself, but paused at the cloudy expression that overtook his face. “I’m sorry I keep calling you that without thinking.”

He shook his head, smiling softly at you. “I don’t mind when it’s you.”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, sitting up in the bed and leaning over to kiss him.

Líf froze up in surprise; he clearly still hadn’t gotten used to the affected from you even after all the kissing you had done earlier. You assumed he was still having trouble believing that this was real. You pulled away to look at the dazed expression on his face and giggled.

Líf cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, decided. I will help the other Alfonse.”

You felt an immediate sense of relief; you weren’t sure if you could convince him, even being from his world. You would go to help them either way, but it would make you more confident to have him by your side. You would show Hel that she would not get away with destroying your world. Everyone you had lost deserved to see her fall. Even though it would not bring them back, you had a chance to save another world and change its fate.

You knew that time was of the essence now that you weren’t too exhausted to stand. You pushed the covers off of yourself, standing up and adjusting your now-dusty cloak. Líf gave you one last smile as he reached down for his mask. He easily affixed it back to his face, and you were unable to supress a bit of sadness now that his face had been hidden from you again.

You watched as Líf reached down to his side, removing your Breidablik from its place and handing it to you. “If we are to defeat Hel, you’ll need this.”

You accepted the legendary weapon, noticing its pristine condition, not seeing any new dents or scratches in its surface. Líf had taken such good care of it, you noted fondly.

“I kept it with me,” he said, and you looked up from Breidablik to him. “It’s shameful to admit, but I would talk to it as if it were you.”

You stepped forward to wrap an arm around him. “I’m here now. We’ll beat Hel together.”

“What happens then?” he asked. “If Hel is dead, will I disappear as well?”

“I…” You didn’t know the answer to his question, and knew that false promises would do him no good. “I hope not. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I will fight until Hel is no more,” he promised, offering you his hand. “And then we can truly be free.”

You took his hand as he summoned a swirling portal that was the same deep purple as the accents on his armor. This was real. You were going to fight your most important battle yet.

“They have entered Hel’s castle, but they will need us if they are to win. Veronica may cast the Heart’s Rite, but it will take your weapon and the other summoner’s together to kill Hel,” Líf explained.

You nodded, feeling worries creep up that you tried to push down. You squeezed his hand; you had Alfonse with you again. You would have to believe that you could do this. You couldn’t leave your allies waiting.

Líf stepped towards the portal, and you suddenly felt like you didn’t have enough time with him. You wanted more, you wanted to be selfish. But you had to do this.

“Alfonse, I love you.” You wouldn’t go into a battle with such an uncertain outcome without telling him one more time. You hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time.

“And I love you,” he replied, his voice sounding the tiniest bit distorted due to the mask, but the emotion in his voice was clear.

You needed to keep your nerve up, so you followed him into the vibrantly-swirling portal… and straight into an inferno.

Swords clanged and magic flew from all around you. Hel’s army of the dead was relentless in their efforts to keep the Askrian army from reaching their leader. You had appeared to the side of the battle; closest to you was Sharena, who was flanked by a few heroes as they attempted to fight their way through a squadron of armored units. They were so focussed on their goal that they didn’t see a lone dark mage sneaking up to hit the princess of Askr from behind.

You gasped, gripping Líf’s arm as he zeroed in on the same thing you were seeing. “Stay safe and find the other summoner,” he said, drawing Sökkvabekkr and dashing at the mage.

You watched as Líf easily cut down the mage, surprising Sharena, who grinned happily when she saw who had come to her aid. You had to take your eyes off of their reunion to focus on your own goal; you had to reunite with the other summoner before the Heart’s Rite was completed. You couldn’t see her in the mess of fighting, but if it were you, you would likely be at the back of the army, giving commands from a safe distance. You mentally wished Líf would stay safe as you turned and ran into the crowd of heroes.

It didn’t help that there were a lot of tall figures in the heroes’ ranks; it made finding one girl much harder when you couldn’t see past the armored ranks of your allies. It was all you could do to avoid being hit by the magic flying in either direction. You weren’t sure if the heroes around you realized you weren’t the other you or not, but they let you weave around them as you searched.

There was a commotion at the back of the throne room as the final few soldiers surrounding Hel were taken down, and you caught sight of the summoner at last as she and Veronica advanced towards Hel. You cursed internally; you had been heading in the completely wrong direction. The army began to close in on Hel, which made the crowd condense further, leaving you no room to get over there.

Hel addressed the heroes that stood just in front of her. You could see Alfonse, Sharena and Anna all with their weapons at the ready, but couldn’t hear what Hel was saying. Just at the edge of the crowd were the summoner, Veronica and Eir. You became even more frantic as Líf stepped beside Alfonse’s side, Sökkvabekkr at the ready. You noticed that he looked around for you, but didn’t see you at your counterpart’s side. You wanted to scream and tell him that you were here, but you knew that your voice wouldn’t carry over the crowd.

“Please!” you begged, shoving at the unmoving soldiers in your way. “Please let me through!”

A radiant glow began to emanate from Veronica as she began the Heart’s Rite that would allow Hel to be killed. You weren’t a warrior, didn’t have the strength to push people out of your way who were too busy watching the scene up front to notice you. You were on the brink of tears you were so frustrated; if this plan failed because of you…

Your cloak was tugged at from behind, and you turned back to see Thrasir just behind you. Your first reaction was to jerk away from her, but she raised a finger to her lips and you stilled, staring warily at her.

“Come with me,” she said, gesturing with her eyes to the portal just behind her.

You must have looked hesitant, because she glared impatiently at you. “The Heart’s Rite is almost complete. If you don’t get up there, Hel will not die.”

“But why?” You couldn’t fathom why Thrasir, who had attempted to take your life before would be helping you.

“I did not notice before, but you are our summoner, are you not?” she replied. “Hel had used everyone for too long. I lost my brother because of her. I will not let this chance escape me.”

She could be lying, but if you stayed back here, the battle was lost. You nodded at her; you would have to take the chance that she was offering you. You had no time to waste to give it any more thought. She turned, heading into the portal, and you followed right on her heels.

“Bring death to that which cannot die!” Veronica’s voice rang out loud and clear as you and Thrasir appeared next to her.

“Now!” Thrasir hissed, and you drew your Breidablik just as your counterpart drew hers.

Side by side, you aimed your divine weapons at Hel, who was locked in place by Veronica’s magic. Together, you fired true, striking Hel in the center of her ghostly chest. And then the woman who had taken everything from you was no more. Hel’s body shuddered as she fell apart into dust.

You stared at the empty space where she had been. It almost didn’t feel real that she had been defeated. Everyone was glancing around at each other, embracing each other in relief that it was finally over.

Your focus was drawn to Líf as he dropped to his knees and your mind assumed the worst. You dashed over to him, startling the heroes around him as you also dropped to your knees.

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Are you okay?” you asked him, desperately hoping that Hel wasn’t the only thing that had been keeping him alive. You couldn’t bear to lose him, not when you had only just found him again.

“I…” he panted. “It feels…”

His head dropped onto your shoulder and you realized that his forehead against you felt feverish. What was happening to him? His head felt heavy as he leaned more of his weight against you, and you sat down properly so you could support his body.

You placed a hand on his chest to keep him somewhat upright as you tried not to panic. You called his name softly, but you couldn’t see any signs that he even heard you.

“Is he…?” Sharena asked as she dropped to her knees beside you, Alfonse just behind her looking worried.

“I don’t know…” you replied shakily. You didn’t know what you could do for him, if there was anything you could even do for him right now.

He was so feverishly warm, you felt like you were burning up just from being in contact with his skin. You realized that his chest felt clammy under your hand, and you reeled back to look at him just as Eir gasped from beside you.

“Mother’s influence…” she whispered.

Your suspicions were confirmed as you realized that your hand was resting on the skin of his chest. His chest that was now fully opaque, no longer alit with a ghostly glow, his ribs no longer visible. You hastily propped his head up to take off his mask, his cheeks flushed with life again. He wasn’t dying, he was coming back to life.

“With mother gone, her power has stopped influencing him,” Eir explained. “Death taints his skin no longer.”

Líf’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he grunted in surprise as you hugged him tightly as soon as you noticed he was awake again, feeling his once-again-human skin against yours. He realized almost immediately, looking down at his mostly-bare torso on display from his death armor, and your heartbeat rang out in your ears as you noticed that his eyes were back to their original crystal blue. He was truly free of Hel’s corruption at last.

He held you tightly against him as he sobbed into your shoulder. Everyone around you dispersed to give you space, rallying the troops to return to their own world. You pet his hair and he slowly relaxed until he was no longer shaking, but still held onto you tightly.

“Aren’t you cold?” you teased him, running a hand along his stomach, watching as he shivered under your touch.

He pulled back from you just far enough so he could see your face, a soft smile on his face. “I haven’t felt the cold in years, so it is a welcome change.”

That’s right. You had to assume he was essentially a walking corpse for years left with nothing but his pain for company. But now he didn’t even seem bothered that his entire abdomen was on display, something that was flustering you as you saw a noticeable increase in musculature from when he was younger.

He looked confused by your sudden refusal to look at him, and moved closer to you, but found that you still wouldn’t look at him. Without the distraction of defeating Hel, you had nothing to keep your embarrassment at bay. You weren’t sure how you were so confident earlier in your room; it wasn’t as if him turning fully human again changed your relationship or who he was. But right now, him cupping your jaw to make you look at him in front of the entire Askrian army was sending your embarrassment levels skyrocketing.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone sincere and so full of concern for you that it made you feel guilty.

You reluctantly met his eyes, cheeks so warm you were sure that you looked like a sweaty mess. You still didn’t answer him, unsure of what to say, and he scrutinized your expression, looking for any sign that you were injured. Finding nothing but your blushing face, he leaned in, closing his eyes as he got close to your face. There were so many people around you, and it was all you could think about, and you froze in place, your eyes wide open.

“What’s wrong?” Líf asked, opening his eyes, his lips mere inches from your own.

“N-nothing…” you stuttered.

He raised an eyebrow, grinning flirtatiously with a challenge in his eyes. “Then kiss me.”

When did he get so bold? You tried to pull back to look around and see if anyone was watching you, but Líf’s hand on your cheek held your head still, staring into your eyes with a determination that unnerved you. “Kiss me.”

You knew that people had to be staring, but he wasn’t letting up, so you leaned in to give him a quick kiss. Líf predicted your plan, his hand that was on your cheek sliding into your hair to keep your mouths locked together as he slid his tongue along yours. His eyes were closed, but yours were wide open with shock. He kept the kiss going for a few more seconds before pulling away, and the air was pierced by the sound of a wolf whistle.

“I hope that you’re taking notes, Alfonse!” Anna teased the prince, who was looking anywhere but at you and Líf, who finally let you disengage yourself from him.

“Well I think it’s sweet!” Sharena added.

You and Líf finally stood up, and he leaned down ever so slightly to whisper in your ear. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. It’s just been so long since I was fully human.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. Not after all that he had been through. You both watched as the army dispersed; the healers tending to the injured as the mages began to set about creating portals back to their Askr.

“What do we do now?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t have the answer to that either,” Líf admitted. “I still intend to save our world, but without Hel…”

“I’ll go wherever you go,” you told him resolutely. “We’ll find a way to bring everyone back.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear–” You both looked over at Anna as she approached you. “You both are more than welcome in our Order of Heroes. You too, Veronica. Er, I mean Thrasir.”

You must have looked hesitant, because Anna grinned widely. “Hey, we owe ya one, and I don’t like owing people!”

Alfonse stepped up beside the commander, his eyes on Líf. “I want to help you… Alfonse. Please come back with us. We can help you find a way to restore your world.”

Líf stared at his other self, the two having a mental conversation for their ears only. You wouldn’t mind going back with the other world’s heroes, but you would defer to Líf. You trusted him immensely, and without Hel’s influence, he was free to pick whatever path he chose. You just wanted to stay by his side.

“I will accept your offer,” Líf answered at last, his fingers seeking out your own as he took your hand in his. "But only if she agrees.”

You were startled by the attention suddenly being on you. “I… of course,” you quickly answered.

“It’s settled, then!” Anna said, clapping her hands together. “Everyone, let’s prepare to head out!”

With that, the Askrian trio began to follow the rest of the heroes to the portals, leaving you, Líf and Thrasir standing in Hel’s throne room. Líf let his hand drop from yours to approach Thrasir, who was standing off to the side of the room. She watched him, awkwardly crossing her arms over her worn tome as he stopped in front of her.

“I intend to restore our world,” he told her. “And I will keep my promise to you. We are allies in this, and I have faith that we will accomplish our goals.”

“The portals are ready!” Sharena announced as she strode up to Anna, who was overseeing the situation. “Everyone has begun to head back to Askr!”

You watched as the army began to thin out and heroes filtered out of the portals that had been set up at the doors to the throne room. Sharena and Alfonse split up to assist in herding everyone to the portals while Anna set off through a portal to oversee things from the other side. The crowd got more and more thin as everyone returned to Askr, and soon it was just you, Líf and Thrasir left.

“We’ll be back,” you said with a smile, hoping to inspire confidence in the two.

Thrasir stared at you, and you didn’t know how to feel. You had never been confident with her motives, especially since she had been at odds with Askr for so long. Having her as your ally was an awkward feeling for you, but she had the same goal that you did now. Although you couldn’t help but find her intimidating, especially because you couldn’t read anything into her stare.

Líf looked between the two of you, and then to the portal. Thrasir caught his gaze easily, humming as she waved her hand in a well-practiced motion, summoning her own portal.

“Until we meet again in Askr,” Thrasir said.

“We will see you there soon,” Líf replied, and then she departed through her own portal without another word.

After she left, Líf returned to your side, taking your hand in his again. As he leaned down to kiss you, you noticed that even his hair had returned to normal, the formerly-white fade at the ends of his hair restored to its normal golden color. He pulled back after a moment and stared at you with fondness in his eyes, a look that you had never seen in him before, even before Hel had decimated your world.

“You don’t need to worry about Thrasir,” he told you, and you realized you must have had an uncomfortable look on your face while she was there. “She won’t try to harm you anymore. She’s grown up in the past few years, something I did not miss about this world’s Veronica. I’m surprised Alfonse got her to cooperate with him.”

“Thrasir surprised me when she teleported me up here,” you commented. “I wasn’t sure what to think since last time I saw her, she wanted me dead.”

Líf smiled ruefully. “When I didn’t see you with your other self, I thought the worst. I was prepared to strike down enemy or ally to have you by my side again.”

“Líf…” You weren’t sure what to say, but leaned your head on his chest, hoping your touch would be more of a comfort to him than your words right now.

“As much as I enjoy this time, the portal may close soon, my love,” Líf said, and the pet name had you smiling without thinking.

“Right,” you agreed. “We should probably go.”

“I would take us there myself, but I have never been inclined to magic like Thrasir. Hel’s magic was the only thing that allowed a brute like me that ability.”

“You’re not a brute,” you refuted as you both began to walk around the rubble of the crumbling castle and towards the brightly-colored portals. “You’ve always been a fairy tale prince to me!”

Líf stumbled as your words hit him, and you decided to remove your hand from his so you could link your arm with his instead. He had rescued you from certain death at the very least, a base quality of the fairy tale prince, and you wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.

“I can’t say that I agree,” he said at last as he helped you over a large chunk of ceiling that had fallen in your path.

“You don’t have to,” you hummed. “You’re my prince, even if our world is in shambles.”

Líf sighed, choosing to divert the conversation instead of dignifying your statement with a response. “I’m just relieved to be free of Hel’s grasp at last. The things I did…”

You both were close enough to the portal now to just enter it, but you stopped just short, staring at the swirling blue magic. Now that you were close, you could see the barest shape of the portal’s other end. It was faded and blurry, but you could recognize the courtyard outside of the Askrian castle easily. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been in the courtyard. Even before you were brought here through time, you had been journeying to fight Hel for so long that the Askrian palace felt like an old memory from another time.

“All that matters is what we do going forward,” you said softly.

You knew that you couldn’t wrap up his pain with pretty words, but you wanted to do anything you could to comfort him right now. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, and it meant the world to you to see him smile at you, his grip on your hand tight as you took a step toward the portal. Neither of you looked back at the ruined castle as Líf stepped through the portal with you just behind him. You would be back here, you promised yourself, when you restored your world and brought back everyone you had lost.

It was late in the afternoon when you arrived in the alternate Askr. The castle was abuzz as festivities were prepared to celebrate the order’s victory against Hel. It was all quiet overwhelming for you and Líf, and Anna arranged for a room for both of you to allow you space away from the raucous celebrations.

“You won’t mind sharing a room, right?” Anna had asked you with a wink. “It helps the order save on funds too!”

It was weird, being in essentially a guest room in what looked just like the castle you knew so well, but having Líf by your side was a big help to you. As soon as the door closed and you were alone at last, Líf wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I was unsure if this could happen,” he admitted. “Part of me thought I would die when Hel did.”

“You scared me,” you said, voice sounding less confident than you intended.

“I don’t intend to make a habit of it, my love,” he said, and you revelled in his sweet tone. He was still wearing his open-chested outfit, and the warmth from his body easily bled into your own.

You leaned back into him, and the position shifted his arms that were around you so that they now pressed against the underside of your breasts. You immediately felt him stiffen up, so you went a little farther, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

He easily read into your intentions, uttering your name warily. You were finally alone together, and he was human again, so you didn’t want to hold back anymore. You gently unwound his arms from around you so you could face him. You could tell he looked nervous, but it seemed to be more of a nervous excitement, his blue eyes looking a shade darker than usual.

You took his hand, pulling him with you towards the bed as he followed with short, robotic steps. You were usually so in sync with him, able to read his thoughts like a book. But this time you didn’t want to rely on guesswork. You wanted to hear him tell you that he wanted you as much as you wanted him right now.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and one more tug on his hand had him leaning over you, placing his other hand flat on the bed to brace himself so he wouldn’t fall on top of you. He put up no resistance at all, the longing obvious in his eyes. Still, you had to be sure.

“Alfonse.” You waited for him to answer with a short hum before you continued. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he answered breathily, quickly.

You wanted to clarify further, just to be absolutely sure, but he rushed forward to kiss you and you took that as his answer. In your surprise, you lost your balance, falling onto your back on the bed. Líf eagerly followed, caging you in with his body and kissing you again, deeper this time. You were trying to lose yourself in the kiss, but Líf’s armor was starting to poke uncomfortably into your skin, and you pulled away when you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Your armor hurts,” you whined, and Líf pulled away quickly as if you had burned him.

You couldn’t even begin to tell how his armor came apart, but he did not falter, reaching up and unclasping his collar piece, dropping it to the floor without a care. The rest began to come off just as easily, as the collar was joined by his shoulder guards and bracers, his fluffy cape dropping to the floor as he took off the remainder of his chest armor, his torso and arms now completely bare.

You thought that he would stop there, but he surprised you as he bent over to unstrap his leg armor and remove his belt. His entire outfit seemed to be armored other than his cape, and you weren’t sure how he was comfortable at all wearing it. He likely hadn’t been; there was no way that much armor could be easy to wear all the time. You didn’t realize until it was too late that he was intent on following your request exactly as stated as he removed the armor from his legs, which were connected together. Removing the leg pieces brought the armor covering his pelvis with it, and your face flushed as he now stood before you fully naked.

“What–” you stammered, caught totally off guard.

“I would never want to harm you with my armor,” he replied, but the smirk on his face told you he was teasing you again.

You couldn’t even look at him; his sudden nudity was flustering you beyond belief. “…you never used to be this forward.”

He laughed, and you felt the bed dip with his added weight and closed your eyes. You felt him begin to gently push your cloak from your shoulders, and you lifted your arms to make it easier for him to take off.

As he undid your belt, you felt his lips at your ear. “I had years to regret never telling you how I felt. I don’t intend to hold back from what I want anymore.”

He tossed your belt aside, and you finally opened your eyes as you felt a hard prod against your thigh. You were once again reminded of the muscle he had put on in the years since he had seen you as his strong chest and broad shoulders engulfed your vision. You kept your eyes above the belt as he slowly unzipped your shirt, exposing the bra you wore underneath.

And then he was kissing you again and you lost track of the clothing coming off. You had never discussed romantic pursuits with him before, never knew if he had even kissed someone before, but he was surpassing all of your expectations. His tongue moved alongside yours so smoothly, like this wasn’t your first time kissing each other, and you found yourself struggling to keep up with the passion he put into the lip lock.

You didn’t know when he had done it, but as he cupped your breasts with his hands, you realized that he had removed all of your top layers. You broke away from the kiss with a moan as he squeezed your chest under his large hands. You squirmed back further onto the large bed, and Líf took the opportunity to slide your pants down, unzipping your boots and removing them as well.

Now just in your panties, you had no time to feel self-conscious as Líf climbed back on the bed as well, his eyes on your body and an ever so slight red tint to his cheeks.

“Can I…?” Líf seemed hesitant to finish his sentence as he stared at your underwear.

You smiled at him in a way that you desperately hoped was attractive, lifting your hips up as an invitation instead of words. He followed your lead, his hands drifting to your hips to slide your panties down your legs and then toss them off of the bed. He stared down at you, one hand moving from its place on your hip to gently move over your currently oversensitive nerves, the sensation making you close your eyes with a shudder.

He seemed to know exactly what made you squirm, zeroing in on the motions on your clit that made you squirm and cry out and repeating them until you couldn’t take it anymore. You opened your eyes again, hand going to brush his fingers away from your body.

“Please… I want you,” you pleaded, unable to look away from his throat as he swallowed at your words. “That means in me, Alfonse,” you teased, and he stared down at you like you were prey, which sent a shiver down your spine.

His expression turned determined as he grasped his cock, and you tried to move your legs apart as much as you could to give him room. He stared down at you for a moment before he grabbed your thighs, and you squeaked in surprise as he pulled your hips flush with his, your legs forced to bend on either side of his hips to accommodate the position. You were basically sitting in his lap, your breasts brushing against his chest with every breath.

You immediately felt the prod of his cock against your clit, and the sensation jolted you forward, your head falling onto his shoulder. His focus was on connecting the two of you, and you moaned into his neck as he began to push inside you. You gripped at his back and shoulders, and he groaned loudly as he fully sunk into your cunt.

“My love,” he whispered into your ear, and you moaned his name back.

He encouraged you to wrap your legs around his hips, and as soon as you did, he slid halfway out and then rocked back in, repeating the motion and sending waves of pleasure through you. You panted into his shoulder, your throat already feeling somewhat dry as he pounded into you. You did your best to rock your hips along with his, but you were much clumsier than he was, getting lost in the sensations and the high of having your feelings returned by the man you had loved for so long. Knowing that he wanted this as bad as you did made you feel impossibly warm in this moment.

You felt one of his hands slide into your hair, the other one on your hip steadying you against him. He pulled your head from his shoulder, gently maneuvering your face close enough to his for him to kiss you. You put your all into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his kisses got rougher.

After one well-timed thrust on both of your parts, Líf leaned his head back with a low groan of your name. “You feel so good…” he said, barely lucid in the midst of all he was feeling.

You scratched at his back as his eyes met yours, and you wondered if desire was as blatantly obvious in your eyes as it was in his. He was flushed, and looked like he was getting close already, but it wasn’t like you weren’t in the same boat. The close position meant that you could feel every shiver that went through his body, every quiet breath or groan as he brought you both closer and closer to the edge. You couldn’t hold back your own cries every time he hit in just the right spot, which was happening more and more as he attuned himself to what you seemed to like.

“You’re so cute… it’s hard to hold on when you sound like that,” Líf rasped, and you blushed brightly, suddenly aware of just how many noises you were making until he brought his hand down to rub his thumb against your clit in tight circles and you forgot all about your concerns, the only thing you could focus on was how close you were to going over the edge.

Your sounds spurned him on, as he continued to rub at you as his movements got sharper and harder, the feeling almost too much for you to take. You could do little else but hold on, reaching up to pull his face to yours so you could kiss him. You could feel him getting more and more rushed in his movements, his tongue a little slower to play with yours as he put his all into the rocking of his hips.

Líf’s aggressiveness finally abated as he held you tightly to him, stilling on his last thrust and groaning your name into your mouth. His hand never stilled, fingers bringing you to orgasm at last as he renewed his efforts into kissing you breathless. You were sure that your nails were cutting into the skin of his back, but he made no indication that he was in any pain. Rather, his closed eyes fluttered open to look at you with reverence, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he said, leaning in for a deep kiss that you happily reciprocated until he pulled back again. “It feels strange to be in Askr with no title to my name. Here, I’m just another soldier from another world.”

“We both are,” you agreed. “I’ll have to get used to not being the summoner anymore.”

“You will be when we get our world back,” Líf replied softly. “Until then, I’ll enjoy us sharing the same room.”

[kodzukenscorner]

Osamu dating Sakusa’s twin sister

anon asked: hello 💕 can i ask a scene for sakusa's twin sister dating osamu? 👉👈 thank you.

a/n: asdghljl forgive me for not updating in a bit, I’ve hit a bit of a writer’s block 

wc: 1,476

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

You are nothing like Sakusa Kiyoomi, Osamu thought to himself nearly every time he saw you. He knew you were twins and foolishly assumed you would share in your brothers touch-averse and semi germaphobic ways. Although to be fair, Osamu had never formally met Sakusa before, he only heard of him from Atsumu when they became (somewhat) acquainted at their last training camp. It wasn’t until a practice match was set up did he get to meet the Sakusa Kiyoomi in the flesh, along with the rest of Itachiyama. That of course, included their manager, you.

Your hair was dark and curly like your brothers, but not nearly as unruly. It cascaded into raven ringlets down your shoulders and Osamu could not keep his eyes off the way it bounced every time you nodded your head. Suffice it to say he was entranced by you and Atsumu was quick to notice.

“Bet she’s as prickly as her brother”

Osamu scrunched up his nose, he couldn’t imagine someone as angelic looking as you being so cold. Little did he know, Sakusa was having a similar conversation with you. It didn’t take you long to take notice of the Miya twins, your brother had told you about Atsumu who was a talented setter no doubt but a bit of a pain in the ass. Osamu was a mystery and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was like his twin or maybe he was like you, someone who was nothing like their own twin.

“The Miya’s, probably equally irritating” Your brother informed you as he stretched his wrist out.

Throughout the warmups and the practice match, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on the Miya twins. Atsumu seemed just as your brother described, talented and cocky but Osamu was a quiet force. He was good and paired with his brother, they could be unstoppable one day. It was on more than one occasion that you two made eye contact throughout the match and by the time everyone was relaxing afterwards you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence. You looked over once more to the Inarizaki team to catch Osamu staring at you, but this time he didn’t look away and neither did you. He offered you a sweet genuine smile, nothing like the slightly sinister one his brother has. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, a blush creeping its way up your cheeks which was easily noticed by Osamu.

Before your team had left, Osamu managed to finally get you alone, the words were almost lost in his throat when he finally got to see you up close. But he was still able to get your number and properly introduce himself before you went your separate ways. You knees went weak just at speaking to him for such a short amount of time, you had no idea how you survived to be completely honest. And true to his word, Osamu texted you that night when he got home, you texted back and forth until the sun came up the next morning.

How did any of this happen? He was just a rival athlete from another school, but now you were texting and calling him every night. Your heart fluttered whenever you saw his name on your screen and your brother couldn’t help but notice how attached you were to your phone. And now here was Osamu, standing at your front door, ready to take you on your first official date. Your brother loomed behind you, still wary of the Miya twin but you bid him goodbye and dragged Osamu away. You held his hand tightly in yours as you led him to your favorite onigiri shop, you had tried asking him what his favorite food was but he just kept saying it was ‘food’. 

Osamu was too caught up in the feeling of your hand in his to make any sort of conversation, and your heart was beating too loud to hear anything he might have said anyway. Once you made it to the shop, he had to reluctantly let go of your hand to properly order food for the both of you. Soon enough, you were seated across from each other with your food in front of you, neither of you had said much yet but when you looked up at the grey haired man in front of you the blush that had been permanently sitting on your cheeks threatened to take over your whole face now. Something about the way he had his chin propped up on his hand, and the dreamy far away look he had as he looked at you made you want to faint on the spot.  He reached over and grasped your hand in his once more, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m surprised yer letting me hold yer hand”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno, just thought you’d be like yer brother”

“I thought you’d be like yours” 

You both chuckled and comfortably ate your food, conversation finally flowing normally. You stayed in the small restaurant much longer than either of you anticipated but you both lost track of time. Osamu walked you home, hand intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing light circles into the back of your palm the whole way. He stopped at your door, knowing your brother wasn’t quite comfortable with letting him inside just yet. You looked up at Osamu in anticipation.

“Well, ummm, thank you for everything, I had fun” You smiled at him sweetly.

“I did too, but it’ll be some time before I can come visit again so don’t get upset when I do this okay?” 

You didn’t have a chance to question what he meant because before you knew it, Osamu was leaning down cupping your cheek with his free hand, bringing his lips to meet yours. You clung to his shirt for support and immediately kissed him back. You had been daydreaming about kissing him since you first started texting but nowhere in any of your fantasies did you imagine his lips to be so soft. He was a slow kisser and he managed to make you completely melt under his gentle touch. You felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and just as you parted your lips to give him access your front door swung open.

Osamu pulled away slowly, making eye contact with your brother who was glaring at him. He offered a lazy smile while you still clung to his chest, he really managed to take your breath away with that kiss. Osamu moved his hand from your cheek and wrapped it lazily around your waist, bringing your body closer to his and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“You should head inside before yer brother gets really mad, I’ll text you later sweetheart” Osamu said sweetly in your ear.

You finally stepped away, bidding Osamu a goodnight, entering your house where your brother promptly shut the door.

“Next time you’re wearing a facemask”

“How am I gonna kiss him then?”

“Exactly”

“Kiyoomi!”

You huffed and went to your room, listening to some music, remembering the feeling of Osamu’s lips on yours. Suddenly your phone buzzed and Osamu’s name popped up on your screen and you broke out into a wide grin reading his text.

“Hey, your brother interrupted us before I could ask but do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

You squealed into your pillow before replying.

“Of course 🥺 ”

You started cheering and kicking your legs up as you laid in the bed when your phone buzzed again. You quickly grabbed it, expecting it to be from Osamu but were confused when you saw your brother’s name.

“Did he finally ask you out?”

You scoffed and replied “He would’ve asked me out sooner if you hadn’t interrupted”

“Fine, guess you don’t want this picture then”

Sakusa sent you a picture of you and Osamu kissing outside your door and you almost died of embarrassment. But it was a very sweet picture and you were over the moon at this point.

“Love you Kiyoomi but next time I’m making out with my boyfriend please leave us alone or I’ll cough on you <3333″

“Gross” Was his only response.

You set the picture as your wallpaper and continued texting with your boyfriend for the rest of the night, you even sent him the picture Sakusa had taken.

“Babe why would you send this to me, now I’m gonna dream about you all night long”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem”

“So if I wake up with a “problem”, you’ll help me out?”

You choked on your own spit reading his text “SAMU!!”

“Kidding, kidding. Go to bed now sweetheart, I’ll talk to you tomorrow”

To no one’s surprise, you were the one to dream of Osamu that night, not that you were complaining. 

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! 

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day. 

 –“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously. 

 –“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display. 

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent. 

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of  mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed. 

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.” 

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further. 

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.” 

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol​) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡