#“mc is boring the girls feel more like mc than he is”

[finnieforkys]

I hate that ryukishi07's lesser known works pretty much never get any discussion except the dumbassery of the comment section on the manga site

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[p0rnd3aler]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE NSFW THINK PIECE/DRABBLE

I’m depraved

Rafayel is the neediest. He’s got a lot of insecurities/abandonment issues from his first love and he def has an anxious attachment style. He’s also absolutely the type of person to be codependent (Hello?? “Join me let’s drown in the ocean together”????? Like, come on). He’s constantly trying to do every little thing with you, almost like he can’t breathe unless it’s air that’s already been filtered through your lungs.

However, all big baby behavior™️ considered, he definitely knows how to woo you. I feel like since he’s Lemurian and also an artist, he only knows how to love a person in the most deeply devoted and romantic way. He’s also very careful with his heart and who he gives it to, once he decides it’s truly and solely yours that’s it. There’s no one else. But you also have to honor that with proper care, he’s very sensitive.

Anyway, I feel like he fucks in a way that’s slow, very sensual. The kind of love making where he takes over all of your senses, all you can feel is his touch, all you can smell is his sweat and cologne, all you can taste is him on your tongue, and all you can see and hear are his face and the sweet words of devotion he whimpers in your ear.

He’s also very easy to rile up.

Zayne is boring to me. Like I get the appeal he’s very hot and he’s also very stable (in a romantic sense) and healthy but I just can’t fantasize about that. Like yeah he’s a busy ass surgeon who will always make time for you no matter what and he’s super devoted and always caring for you in little ways, but also mf will make you take a water break during sex if you’re too wet bc he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated. Im done.

Honestly I think I’m biased against him bc the way he talks to MC just reminds me of this horrid man I met at a bus stop once who immediately started trying to tell me what to do/give me life advice. I get Zayne is qualified and the guy at the bus stop was not but idc if y’all want me to put effort into writing for him ur gonna have to submit it into the requests baby, moving on.

SYLUS. I feel like everybody thinks he’s just some big ol’ nasty freak but they’re WRONG. THEYRE WRONG ABOUT HIM.

Don’t get me wrong he’s definitely fucking tweaking when you first meet him, like just going apeshit off the bat with no context for us. But also? Once you get to know him? Bitch I’ll kill for that man you do not know. This mf drops everything for you.

Important arms deal he’s been trying to set up for a year or going to the arcade with you to get plushies out of a claw machine? Deal = cancelled

The fearless leader of the N109 zone who blows up anyone who perturbs him slightly. MF contributes 50% of the carbon in the atmosphere alone with the amount of shit he literally actually blows up with bombs. But you? You may break into his house and handcuff him to his bed in his sleep while trying to steal a brooch off of him. he doesn’t give a fuck. he’s in love with you. Set his house on fire! He won’t care! He’ll just buy a new one!

As rough as he is around the edges he’s completely smitten. “You should know I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.” Like girl don’t fucking play with me. Is he mentally ill? Absolutely. But he is so devoted, so careful with you. “I’m never annoyed when we do things together.” It’s literally like he’s learning how to be a human being for once and he doesn’t care about losing the coldness or sharpness he once had because you’re more than enough to replace any absence the loss of those thing may bring. He knows he’s getting soft and doesn’t care. He doesn’t try to stop it. To kill for you is nothing to him. Not even a second thought. He kills all the time. But he would never harm again if the violence ever came in between you two.

And I think that dedication, that devotion totally translates itself into how he makes love to you. He’s definitely a filthy talker, I think he says some NASTY shit during sex, just because he likes seeing you squirm and feel how your skin gets hot from his words. But I don’t think he likes hurting you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. He’ll spank you yeah, and he’ll tap or squish your cheeks to get your attention. But he only wants to bring you pure, carnal pleasure when it comes to sex. If you even think “that feels good” he’s like a dog with a bone. You get no rest when he’s there you only get mind-numbing pleasure. He’s a tease, he’ll poke lighthearted fun at how loud you’re being, ask you who you think can hear you two while you’re being nasty. But he knows you. He knows what you love, what gets you off, and he cares to learn all of this because of how much he loves you God I’m SICK

Xavier is filthy. That man laps up your pussy like a thirsty dog. The freakiest nastiest mf out of all of them. He won’t show any sexual prowess or interest for months I think. I’m not sure he’s even aware of his powers. Your relationship will literally be based around his chaotic sleeping “schedule” (that shit is not a schedule) and relaxing between missions together. All things considered, you guys spend almost every waking (and sleeping) hour together. Work, dates, naps, eating, it’s almost always together.

It’s not until he hears you getting hit on all night that his composure finally starts to crack.

Three months of the sweetest, purest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Your sweet silly boy, who starts silently pouting all night. It’s not until you two finally find a hotel to stay at for the night, that he finally starts loosening up.

“I’m not a young fool, you know. I don’t take what’s in front of me for granted” he quotes the guys hitting on you earlier, which he heard through your ear piece. Then he recites every time another guy hit on you while you two were on your mission. He’s a jealous jealous jealous boy. He HATES other guys vying for your attention. It just makes him want to whisk you away and bounce you on his dick so loud that every other guy can hear it. When he feels jealousy, he feels the need to mark, claim, devour you so no one else can try and steal you. He gets himself worked up. Stewing and agonizing over the thought and the memory of another guy trying to get to you so much that he can’t even think of sleeping. He gets completely taken over by the urge to have your every reaction solely based on him and what he gives you. I think he fights off these feelings for a long time, up until the protocore mission in the misty invasion memory. He just barely keeps it together until you’re rubbing all over him, pulling him closer to whisper his name in his ear, he just can’t take it. He needs to hear you say it louder. He needs everyone to hear you say his name.

He fucks you so sloppy, the kind of man who does not care what means he has to use as long as the end is what he wants. He wants you covered in marks of his making, he wants you to smell like him, he wants you to have trouble walking the next day, and he wants that asshole who tried hitting on you at work to ask you “what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble walking”

And as soon as the guy asks that you look over to Xavier, who has the most pleased little shit eating grin on his face.

The craziest part is that after he gets it all out of his system he’s back to being the little innocent sweet boy. But you know his secret, and he likes that you know it.

[milswrites]

Irreplaceable

~Azriel X Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, Y/N finds herself captured by the enemy. Will Azriel get to her in time to save her or must Y/N find another way out of this situation.

Warnings: Angst. Graphic descriptions of wounds. Mentions of torture. Violence. Minor character death. Badass MC with a happy ending though :).

Notes: Most definitely should have been two parts I’m sorry for the length <3

Your eyes flickered open slowly, lids struggling to lift fully as your head agonisingly throbbed in pain. Even through your blurred vision you could tell the surroundings were unfamiliar and there wasn’t much information to gain from them other than the fact you were locked in a cell and it was dark. Very dark. The only source of light being the dim flicker of candlelight that squeezed its way through the edges of the door before you, the shadow in your cell dancing in the soft glow that broke through.

Aching, you tried to move, twitching your fingers only to be met with an unsettling numbness that travelled up your arm. Forcing your eyes to open fully, sight becoming less foggy, you glanced to your side. Your eyes drifted from your shoulder and followed the length of your dirty, blood-stained arm to your hand. Your hand, which you had only now noticed was softly trembling, was a picture of horror. A large, rusted nail had found its home in the centre of your palm. Clearly the wound had been there a while as the blood down your arm and on the floor was cracked and dry, congealed around the base of the nail where it met the skin of your hand. Alarmed, your eyes snapped to the other side, head throbbing at the fast movement. Your other hand bore the same wound. Choking back a sob, you stilled your breathing, the anxiety-born shaking your body was doing was only causing you more pain in your hands. You were pinned to the wall like a piece of art. Like you were a trophy.

A sudden wave of panic flooded your system as you recalled how you ended up here in the first place, Azriel was with you on the mission where you had been knocked out and captured. Your wide, alarmed eyes scanned the room, there was no sign of him in here. No traces or makings on the floor that showed any sign of a struggle other than that of your own. Was he safe? Or was he trapped somewhere in this building in another cell? You wondered if he had managed to slip way and if he was looking for you, if he would come save you from entrapment and carry you back to Velaris where you would be safe. Cursing yourself, you shook the thoughts from your mind, you were disposable to him. A young, newly trained spy for the night court. Azriel wouldn’t risk his safety and the safety of his court to ensure your well-being.

You prayed to the mother that Azriel wasn’t in the same situation as you. Locked up in a separate cell. From the moment you met him, when he had saved you from the beating your father was gifting you in Hewn City, you knew you couldn’t just be friends with Azriel. Over the past year of training under him you would be a fool to deny that you had fallen under his spell, those feelings that sparked in you when you first laid eyes on him the day you met only grew and grew until they were a wildfire. The countless hours spent by his side working, training and travelling for your court did nothing but amplify your school-girl crush on the spymaster. But it would be ridiculous for you to assume you ever meant anything more to him than just another person to train. He had never shown much interest in you other than when it came to training and work. In fact most days he struggled to meet your eyes, mumbling the days tasks to you as he busied his gaze elsewhere. There was no way Azriel reciprocated your feelings. But it didn’t matter now. Now you were trapped and this cruel form of punishment bestowed upon you was surely a sign you would not be making it out of here alive.

~~~

Eyes stinging with tears, you brushed all thoughts of your unrequited love aside. Now was not the time to get distracted, all your energy had to be directed into finding a way out of this situation. If Azriel was here you had to make sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid that could end up unintentionally harming him in the process. But if he was here, and wasn’t too heavily injured, you’d both at least have a chance of fighting your way out of this.

If he wasn’t…you would have to attempt this alone and in your injured state. You could wait and see what they wanted from you, see if they kept you alive but the chances of them letting you go were slim to none. You could wait, hope Azriel got back to Velaris and told Rhysand of your capture, hope that they deemed your disposable life worth saving. You didn’t see the likelihood of either option.

No. You would have to try and find a way to discover if Azriel is here and if not it was up to you to ensure your safety. To try and work your way out of this cell in a place you don’t know, guarded by an unknown number of people. The odds were not in your favour.

By this point the tears were freely flowing down your cheeks, despite attempting to hold the sounds in, small sniffles and sorrowful whimpers forced their way out of your mouth. A small part of you wondered if it would be easier to just stay here, anything they were going to do to you already was surely better than what they would unleash upon you if you tried to escape. Head pounding, you awkwardly rested it on your shoulder, the weight of it causing you arm to shift downwards a small amount, your hand seizing with pain as the nail rubbed against the open wound once more.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain. Maybe it would be easy to just shut your eyes and pray for a swift death. Hope that if you close them and sleep you won’t have to open them again. As if replying to your thoughts, you felt a small tug in your chest, an unusual sensation that you wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact the lack of sound and light in your cell had made your senses very sensitive to even the smallest change. Hope bloomed in your chest, filling your body and soothing your thoughts of giving up. You would try. If it was fate that you were going to die here then at least you would go out fighting. At least you would die trying to stay alive, trying to get back to Azriel.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there since waking, coming up with scenario after scenario, plan after plan. The new sense of determination that coursed through you, prevented you from getting the rest your body so desperately craved. The pain in your hands had reduced, the unbearable stinging was replaced with a dull numbness, you weren’t sure whether that was because the wounds were actually getting better or because you had grown used to the pain. Certain that you’d have to remove the nails soon for fear of infection, you kept them in. You would play the role of their prisoner as long as you were unsure that Azriel was locked up here as well. Only when you found out he was safe would you risk removing the nails and escaping.

The screeching sound of a metal door opening in the distance broke the silence. It was the first sound you had heard that hadn’t been made by you. Your head raised quickly, ears twitching with anticipation as you tried to listen and gather what information you could. There was no speaking, but definitely the sound of multiple footsteps, gradually getting louder as they moved closer. Two? No, three pairs of feet. You were grateful for Azriel’s intense training that allowed you to come to this conclusion. Taking down one person in this situation would have been easy, even with the nails, but three? No you would bide your time. Their footsteps got louder and louder until they stopped. They had come to a halt outside your cell.

Unsure of how to handle this, you dropped your head to your shoulder again at the sound of rattling keys, softly grunting at the pain that flashed through your skull, your eyes snapped shut, pretending to still be unconscious.

The door slowly creaked open, only one pair of footsteps came into the cell, the other two people staying outside.

“I told you that you hit the bitch too hard”

It was difficult not to flinch at the gruffness of the man’s voice, but you managed to stay still, keep your breaths deep and eyes closed. He huffed, unsatisfied at your believed unconscious state, clearly having come to your cell hoping you’d be awake for him to torture some night court secrets from you. Hoping to stir you, you heard the scrape of his boot against the stone floor before you felt it collide against your ribs. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of you waking for him only so he can undoubtedly prod and poke at you until he felt he had enough information, you lolled your head forward, hands tugging downwards against the nails. You bit back your cry of pain, hoping this action was enough for him to leave you be.

He nudged your leg with his foot a few times, body shaking but you continued to play your part. Until finally he released a disappointed sound and you heard his feet dragging towards the door.

“What did I say? The spymaster would have been the better choice than his pet, shame you let him get away.” And with that he exited your cell, you heard the sound of the lock clicking shut and the low mumble of the man say to his companion, “stay here, send for me when she wakes. Then we can try have some fun.” Muffled steps walked back towards where they originally came from. Two pairs. Only one man had stayed behind to watch the cell.

Now the cell was once again empty and you were in the safety of your own company you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, eyes flicking to the door in realisation you’d have to be quiet now there was a guard outside. Azriel was safe, he hadn’t been captured. Resisting the urge to cry once more you now hardened your emotions. You had to find your opportunity, try and find a way out of this hell before the man came back and realised you were awake. You needed to get out of this cell and get far away from here, you had never learnt to winnow so you’ll have to run, perhaps if you’re lucky you’ll have some idea where you are and where you can go to.

But first you had to sort out the predicament you were in. The nails had to come out. By this point your panic was almost unbearable, this was going to hurt. Your deep shaky breaths doing nothing to quell the rising anxiety in your body. That odd tug you felt earlier in your chest once more showed itself but in your terrified state it just felt like your heart was trying to rip itself out of your body.

~~~

It must have taken an hour or more for you to calm yourself, steady your breathing and prepare yourself for the worse. Ideally you knew you should sleep, gain some energy back that you no doubt were going to need to aid in what you were about to do. However, rest wasn’t an option. You’d already wasted enough time in your panic, sure that if you waited any longer your captor would return.

In fear of being too loud and alerting the man stood outside you moved your head down and bit into the thick collar of the Illyrian leathers you wear for your missions. And you pulled. Starting with your left hand, you pulled it forward, teeth clenching onto the leathers hard. An uncomfortable mixture of sweat and tears streamed down your face as your wound that had healed around the nail broke open, hand flying forward and off of the nail lodged in the wall. One hand was free, now for the other.

Wanting to get it over with you gripped the nail in your right hand with your really released left one, blood streaming down your arm. Once more you pulled only this time you tugged at the nail itself. Mouth falling open in a silent scream, you managed to get it out of the wall and out of your hand. A bitter chuckle slipping from your lips, these idiots locked you in a cell with nails for weapons, even with the knowledge that you were trained by the spymaster himself.

With the wounds in your palms soaked in blood, you used a nail to tear at the bottom of your leathers. Ripping two strips of material from your top, you wrapped them around your hands, pulling the ends tight with your teeth to make sure they were secure. You weren’t sure how hard you would have to fight to make your way out of this.

Once your hands were wrapped you took the nail back into your hands, flipping it from either hand to test its weight and flexing your fingers to make sure that when you needed to use them the ache in your hands wouldn’t be a hindrance.

It was time. There was one man outside and all you needed to do was to get him to open the cell and kill him. Weighing out your options until you settled on the easiest, hoping he would fall for it and so you yelled out.

“Excuse me!…. Can-… can you please help me? I need a drink.”

You made sure to sound as weak and pathetic as you could, which honestly wasn’t hard considering the situation you were in. Listening, you heard him stand to attention, having not expected your voice. You take in his hesitant steps in the direction the rest of his friends went in, clearly wanting to go get them. Desperation spiking in you that this was your only chance, you tried again.

“Please! Just some water, it’s not like I can try anything anyways.”

A string of expletives followed. Then the sound of sloshing water. Standing where the door would open you braced yourself, nail in hand and stance wide. A click of the key turning. A grunt as the heavy metal door is forced open. Light glaring through the gap. And nothing. Your nail finding its home in his throat before he could live to make another sound, body slumping onto the floor of your cell, a pool of blood forming around him.

Checking him for weapons you grabbed his sword, it was too heavy but it was better than the nail so it would have to do, hopefully you wouldn’t need to use it. The last thing you grabbed were his keys to the cell from the door, tucking them into your pocket, unsure whether they will be needed in your escape.

Stepping out into the corridor you glanced around. There was only one way out and that was the way the men from earlier had left from. You steeled yourself and pushed forwards, walking down the cell corridor and opening the door. Met with yet another corridor on the other side, you picked a direction and walked that way, thanking the mother there was no one around and praying to the cauldron that no one would come.

The architecture was unfamiliar, you were definitely in unknown territory. The halls winded on and on, the more you walked the more stressed you became, sure that if you were to go through any more of them you were going to get caught. As if the mother had taken pity on your already situation and heard your silent pleas of despair the next corner you turned had an archway that led outside. Adrenaline coursed through you as you bolted to the arch, eyes squinting in the brightness of the sun.

Now out in the open you wildly scanned your surroundings, choosing the best pathway forward to ensure you had the best chance of escape possible. It was busy outside, stalls full of market goods, with people bustling about them. Afraid of being caught you hid your bloodied arms and sword behind your back but thankfully when you scanned over the crowd you didn’t lay eyes on anyone who looked like a threat.

Hesitating, you were lost on which direction to go in, until out the corner of your eye you caught a merchant’s horse and carriage, a large chest situated on the back. Perfect. Skillfully, you snuck past the crowd of people gathered together, all stretching their necks to look at something you couldn’t see, and you opened the chest. It was empty. At this point you were grinning widely, and you hopped into the chest, hands throbbing as you gripped the edge to haul yourself up into it before pulling the lid to, enclosing yourself in darkness.

You hadn’t been in the chest long when the owners had returned and thankfully they had not opened the chest and found you, bloodied and dirty hiding inside. The carriage pulled away and you have to admit you weren’t the most comfortable, already sore head banging against the wall of the chest with every bump in the road, but it was a whole lot better than being inside of that cell. You didn’t know where this carriage was heading to, but you would catch a lift as long as possible before you had to get out and gather your bearings. Exhaustion overwhelmed you as the adrenaline slowly dripped from your system and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you could stop your eyes drooping as sleep eventually caught up with you.

~~~

You woke up to an overwhelming bright light and a petrified scream. Startling, you sat up in shock and attempted to take in your surroundings, the lid of the chest had been opened and you were staring into the face of a horribly distressed woman who was clearly not expecting to find you inside.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, I’m sorry. I’m leaving” you tried to sooth her as you speedily hopped out of the chest, taking your sword with you. Turning in a circle you took note of the inn before you and the dense forest that surrounded the area.

Unfortunately, the sight of your blood-stained arms and the glint of your sharp edged sword did nothing to calm the merchant lady who was screaming bloody murder. You backed off, arms raised in surrender, eyes travelling to the group of angry men standing outside of an inn, whose attention had been caught by the wailing woman. You cursed, brain trying to come up with excuses you could give to get them off your back so you could be on your way but your stream of thoughts was interrupted by the ringing of bells that had started in the distance, presumably where you had just escaped from. Fuck. The carriage hadn’t taken you as far as you’d have hoped.

“They ringing those for you sweetheart?” One of the men asked, cracking his knuckles together after having seen the panic flash through your eyes over the sound of the bells, “we’d get a pretty penny for bringing you in if that’s the case.”

At this point you weren’t even going to stop and try talk your way out of this. Azriel had always said your tongue would get you killed one day. So you didn’t only thing you could think of. You ran. Bolting towards the forest behind you, you moved as quickly as you could, muscles burning after your limbs had been squeezed together in the chest for a little too long. Shouts broke out behind you and you knew that they had followed. The haunting sound of the bells still carried in the wind, a reminder of the place you had come from. A reminder of where you’ll be stuck at once more if you don’t get yourself out of this. That is if the brutes don’t bring you in dead.

You run and you run, throat squeezing in agony at every breath. But no matter how fast you could run it was no use, you could hear their jeers and taunts getting louder, voices turning gleeful as they realised there was no way you could get away. Adamant you weren’t going to get captured again after putting in all that effort of getting out you didn’t give up, flying through the trees until your feet dragged you to a halt. You were met with the rocky face of a cliff.

Survival instincts still being in control of your body, you grabbed the rocks, trying to pull yourself up the rocky feature in order to scramble to the top to get away from the brutes chasing you, but the flash of agony up that started in your damaged palms and flashed up your arms reminded you that you were injured. Your hands shot open at the burst of pain and you fell off the side of the cliff and onto the floor. Scrambling to your feet, you turned back round to face the forest and gripped your sword as tight as your hands allowed. No more running. You were going to have to fight your way out.

~~~

Snarling at the men as they approached did nothing to deter them, horrible grins plastered on their faces as they rounded in on you. Even if you weren’t as injured and exhausted as you were you were certain you still wouldn’t be able to take them all, not by yourself.

The boldest of the men, the one who had called you out outside of the inn, lunged forward, sword swinging towards you. You jumped backwards, reactions sluggish as the sword caught your arm and your back slammed against the rock face behind, a shout of pain came from your lips. Insistent on the fact you won’t go back to the cell, you clenched your jaw and advanced, raising your sword. You would die here sooner than being a captive of the men who took you again.

Azriel.

The memory of him flashed through your eyes. Tears of frustration falling down your cheeks at the thought of the man you were never able to have. Once more thankful that he hadn’t been captured with you, thankful that you wouldn’t see the disappointment on his face as he realised that even after all his training you were still too weak to fight your way out of this. His name, a final prayer on your lips as you hope that whoever he finds himself stuck with next does better than you had.

Then you fight. The world around a blur of swords, spears and limbs, unsure whether you were actually hitting anyone you swung your sword around you, parrying blows and kicking people back. The holes in your hands cracking open and bleeding once more, blood causing your grip to slip, unable to keep a firm hold on the hilt.

It only took one more move from your attackers and your sword went flying. Instinctively your hands shot to your leathers expecting to find your holsters for your daggers, only to remember they were stripped from you before you woke in your cell. You didn’t even have the nails that were lodged in your hands with you, both left in the cell you escaped from, one in the throat of one of your captors.

The hilt of one of the men’s sword caught you in the back. Weaponless, you fell to your knees in defeat before you closed your eyes. This was it. They would either kill you or take you back and there was nothing more you could do but shut your eyes as to avoid seeing the gleeful smiles of victory on their faces as they enact their final punishments. Your ears rang, their voices all blurred into one mass of yelling. The bells. All you could hear was the bells as you gripped your head, crying out and waiting for the death blow.

But it never came. You were aware of the change in atmosphere around you, maybe even aware of the screams that had began breaking out. But you stayed focussed on holding your head, fingers plunged into your ears as you sat on the floor, rocking backwards and forwards. The haunting sounds of the bells calling for your death lingered. It seemed as if they were getting louder and louder until they stopped altogether at the call of your name.

“Y/N”

Hands grabbed you. Pulling your hands from your head. A crack in their voice that must have been born from the realisation of the state your hands were in.

“Y/N can you hear me?”

It was Azriel. Still unable to open your eyes a you laughed. The mother worked in strange ways but you never could have predicted that death would arrive to you in the form of Azriel. Your final moments met with the soothing tones of his deep voice. And so with limbs like lead, body tired and unmoving you allowed yourself to drift off for the final time, a whisper upon your lips that was met with a cry.

“I’m ready”

~~~

Your pain had returned. The wounds on your palms so unbearable it drew a whine from your lips. Pain so intense it was clear you had somehow survived. You were in a bed, you could feel the soft sheets against your back and the weight of a blanket above you. The information did nothing to quell the fear inside you. Fear that when you opened your eyes you would be back with your captors. Your heart rate increased, the muscle thudding in your chest and you pressed your eyes together so hard it hurt.

“Hey…hey, don’t do that, it’s ok you’re safe”

Azriel’s voice broke through the silence. Your ever increasing heartbeat stilled. You were safe. You jumped upright, eyes snapping open. Azriel not expecting this fell backwards into his chair in shock before realising what was happening and was then rushing forward to steady you as you swayed from the fogginess that had found its home in your head.

“Woah careful now, it’s alright it’s just me. You’re home” his voice shaky as he moved his hands from where they were gripping either side of your shoulders, running them gently down your arms before they settled over your bandaged hands which were laid in front of you.

Brain frog still present, you just couldn’t put together how you got there. Azriel wasn’t with you when you were captured, “how… how did you-“

Already knowing the question being asked he promptly replied, “the second they took you I went straight back to Rhysand for help. It was hard ignoring the… the need to get you back as quickly as possible but I knew I’d be stupid to do it on my own,” he swallowed hard, as if the subject of your capture was a difficult one for him, “I tried to tell you we were coming, find out where you were I tried to tell you through…well I tried to tell you.”

He took in another deep breath, “ and then we found out where you were, only when we got there the bells were ringing and you were gone. We were too late, you’d gotten out on your own because you thought we weren’t coming,” at this point pearlescent tears were flowing down his cheeks, “I didn’t give up and I kept searching for you and when I finally found you and you were knelt before all those men covered in blood…I…I.”

Even though you were the one who had been captured and pinned to the wall, and chased down by a hoard of angry men, watching Azriel break down in front of you because he thought he had failed you had to be one of the worst things you’ve ever experienced.

“Azriel,” you croaked, throat dry from lack of water, “the only reason I’m here now is because of you. The thought of you is what kept me alive in that cell and it was your training which was the reason I was able to escape,” it was at this point that you were sobbing along with the spymaster, “and I know for damn certain that I definitely wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t found me in those woods. So thank you Azriel, thank you for saving my life.”

You slowly lifted a shaking, bandaged hand to his cheek, thumb brushing away his tears, pain shooting up your arm at the action but you didn’t care. You only cared that this beautiful man before you hadn’t given up on you. That all the while you were captured he had been searching for you. Trying to get a message to you. That all the time in the cell you had spent thinking of him, he was thinking of you too.

His lips softly brushed over your bandage, right where the hole of your palm was stinging underneath. It was an intimate moment, your wrapped hand against his face was possibly the most you’d ever touched him aside from training.

Perhaps out of fear of that you weren’t worthy of Azriel, that he couldn’t possibly like you as much as you’ve grown to love him over the past year, you drew your hand away from his face, ending the moment. Agonisingly tearing your eyes away from his perfect face to settle them on your ruined hands which were now uncomfortably laid on your lap.

“So, uh. Did you find my replacement?” You asked nervously, dreading what he was going to say in response but knowing you’d rather get the pain of it over with sooner rather than later. Especially since the feel of your hand on his cheek had ignited that odd feeling in your chest.

For the second time since awakening, you had Azriel shocked, “r-replace you?”

“I failed right? I got captured and if it wasn’t for you I’d be dead right now. Surely you can see I wasn’t made for this, that I should just go back to my father-“

His eyes now full of fury, Azriel cut you off, “You Y/N L/N are irreplaceable,” he moved his body so he was sat at the edge of the bed, hands holding onto yours, “you are the strongest woman I know and there is no one, no one else, that I could wish to be at my side more than I wish for it to be you.” The rage in his eyes settled, morphing into an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on and he continued, “in the past year of being together you have changed me as a person more than I care to admit and I can not, no I will not, carry on living my life without you by my side. You are irreplaceable… because you are mine.”

That was all you had ever dreamed of hearing and you just couldn’t believe it was true. Azriel felt the same way for you as you did for him, and so in fear of it being a cruel dream made up by your conscious, or afraid he would come to his scenes and change his mind, you crashed your lips to his.

Mouths connecting in firey passion, you poured every ounce of love and affection you had locked away in your heart the past year into it, hoping Azriel would understand just how much he was yours as you were his. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he gripped your face in his hands. You were unsure what to do with your damaged hands, still placed in your lap, but that didn’t matter, nothing about this kiss was awkward or painful. It was as if his lips were made for you, fitting together with yours like it was the missing piece of a puzzle and every part of you wanted to jump right into whatever this was between you and explore every single part of it.

It was only when the two of you needed to breathe that you broke away from the kiss. Still tangled in a sweet embrace, you gazed into his eyes, now certain that unreadable emotion you had seen swimming in them earlier was love. And it was this realisation of his love that caused the tugging sensation, the one that had been occurring in your chest since you found yourself in that cell, to finally pull free. It dull knot that you hadn’t even known was there, morphed into a beautiful golden thread which linked you to Azriel.

Azriel who’s gorgeous smile bloomed at the sight of you realising you were looking into the eyes of your mate, the person created for you. Your equal. And as he began to litter kisses all over your face and neck he mumbled in your ear the sweetest words you have ever heard, “my beautiful, irreplaceable mate.”

[itonashi]

I am ME.

SUMMARY : Known around the world — a genius scientist named [Name][Last Name]. Everyone sought to be her as she was deemed perfect. A young prodigy that managed to climb up the ranks alongside her friends. She met her demise at the age of 35. It shook the world. Tears fall because of her. Will there be another her?

PAIRING : aquamarine hoshino x fem!reader

WARNINGS : implied deaths, stalking, drugs, slow burn romance, murder, more will be added.

A/N : 2k words. goddamn.. hehe enjoy and pls remember im not an expert still in the adults world neither i am that smart LOL.

4 years later...

You're 6 years old right now. Well, physically. You do not have the patience to restrain myself from not talking all the time. Your babysitter is sleeping. You're infront of a tv. Remote beside you. Maybe, you should change it to a music show?

You're bored after all. No freedom so what else can you do? You change the channel to a music show. After you change it, The MC was announcing the winner for the music show.

"Let's congratulate, B-Komachi!" The MC exclaimed and the audiences roared at the mention of B-Komachi. The members went up the stage, taking the award.

"That girl... looks familiar." You muttered under your breath. A beautiful girl with a blue purplish hair color took the mic and start her speech while giving a heart gesture.

That's the girl you met before. She was interesting to say the least. Even from a first glance, you knew that she hailed from an abusive and solemn past. She was expressionless, she talked to you without any interest in the world and show the real her. To see her become an idol.. does that means she's lying to herself right now.

What drove her to be an idol? You met her only once and yet you feel like, she would be important later on. How captivating, you hope the future is kind to her.

"And that's all from me! Ai!" She waved and giving the mic to another member.

Idol. A career that isn't appreciate enough. Some people on the world looked down upon this career. Just singing and dancing, they said. It's more than that.

Idol need to have a perfect image. One wrong step, then scandal will come for them. Especially if you're a famous group. They have to lie. They have to please their fans. One mistake and it will be talk about for years even after disbanding. The entertainment industry is dangerous. Strict to the point they could take your life.

Idol is also human. They're not robot. They also have feelings. Idols are admirable, they need to have a strong mental to handle the hate. The world is unfair to them. There's so many cases on what happened to idols for the past years and some of it is cruel.

Every career have it's upside and downside. There's no need to compare.

You broke out of your thoughts when the front door opening. You didn't even realize your babysitter already went home. "[Name]." Your father called out to you. You stand up and walk towards him with a tiny smile on your face. Your father wasn't that bad now that you have observed him for 3 years.

He looks like he love your mother dearly. Before going to work, he would always give a kiss to the cheek on your mother. Your mother would blush a little. He carry you to his arm and bring you to his lap.

"I need you to make a decision, [Name]." He said with a stern tone. You tilt your head and nod. "Do you want the easy life or the hard life?" He added, starting into your eyes with a little smile.

You widen your eyes a little "I choose the hard life!" You give an eye closed smile to your father. You felt like being silly while saying that. You expect that if you choose the hard life, he would put you into the entertainment industry. This is the time for you to reveal how smart you are to your family. You aim to be the youngest people to be scouted into the world organization you were previously in. It is possible, in that organization there's no rules for age. You learn that when a child was born in that organization from a couple.

How's that child you see as a little sister figure doing? You hope she still love drawing and painting. Your plan starts now.

Your father sae the expression on your face and laugh "That's good, [Name]. In this world, there's no one living the easy life. Next week, you will follow me visit some director." Your father said with excitement. This is probably the second time you see him that excited — the first one being the time when you talk for 'first time'

He pat you on the head and left you alone on the couch. 'Did he do that just to left me on the couch?' You deadpan at your father but shrug it off. You lay on the couch and close your eyes, gathering the information you gotten for the 4 years you have been living in this new body.

One thing for sure, one of your friends had a baby at the same year you were born. You pray for the chances to meet the child. This time, there's no mistake. You want more connections than before.

"[Name], are you excited to see a child acting on the site?" Your father is driving the car to a filming site. He said the director is someone named Taishi Gotanda. You don't really remember the great things that Taishi guy have did since you weren't that keen on keeping up with the media world.

"Yeah! I'm excited! They're the same age as me, right?" You exclaimed. "No, you're the older one there." He said. Great, being the eldest means babysitting. Well, not if the children is discipline properly.

You arrive at the site and you scan around the site for a potential connection to be made with. Your father tap your back and you follow him behind his back. "Oh, Yoshino-san. Great to have you here." The Taishi guy shake your father's hand and he noticed you behind your father. You notice his eyes and smile while waving to him. 

'This is boring.' You thought while walking a little bit away from your father. "Yoshino-chan, please follow me." A staff called out to you. You faced them and nod. "Your father said that you would only see how the process goes. You don't need to do any acting." The staff stated while leading you to a waiting room. You only hum at her to show that you're still listening to her.

'What a quiet kid...' The staff thought. The staff left you as soon as you arrive at the waiting room. You saw three kids and overhear their conversation. "Bet her acting was so bad they had to cut it all out! She seems to be good at buttering people up, though!" The child with red hair uttered.

The red hair proceed to be kinda rude in your opinion to other people. She left not before noticing you though. She look at you up and down and left. 'Is this how kids are?' You sweat at the child behavior. You look inside the room and saw two kids who you assume is twin because of the similarities. The annoyed expression on their face is visible, probably because of that girl? She's Arima Kana , if you remember correctly.

The girl who can flick a crying switch. Well, whatever. You bow at the twin and introduce yourself. They notice you and bow as well. "Oh, I'm Hoshino Ruby! And he's my brother. Hoshino Aquamarine but call him Aqua." The girl claim. What a weird name for japanese people.. The first thing you noticed about the pair is their eyes. It was captivating enough to lure you in. I'm sure they would become a big part of the entertainment industry. A powerful duo, they would say.

"Nice to meet you.." Aqua greet you with a neutral face. An opposite personality of his sister. A smile crawled up your face. "Soo.. why are you guys here?" You questions their presence at the filming site. "I will be acting while my sister here well.. she's just here, I guess." The boy deadpan. "How rude!" Ruby exclaimed.

You nod and cross your arm "It seems like Ruby is the same as me. I will only be watching." You hope that a friendship will bloom between you guys.

Amazing. You lightly smirk at the acting Aqua did. He only act like himself but he was incredibly creepy with it as that was what's the director aiming for. Maybe, the main part of it was because he seems mature for his age and his eyes. You just can't seem to let go of the beauty. "How did you think about it, [Name]?" Your father ask you with interest towards the young boy. "It's amazing, father. Can I start acting too?" You replied while staring at Arima Kana who was crying.

"It's never to late for you to be like your mother." Your father stated while lightly smiling at you "I can get you a role. Make sure to past my expectations." He added. Looks like the expectations for results is starting.

After that, your father have been keeping contacts with the twin since he have taken an interest on the young boy. You occasionally met the twin and learn more about them one by one. Sadly, your father couldn't keep hold of the them — Director Taishi Gotanda did.

You appear on multiple drama show as a child actor and made a name for yourself. There have been talks that you would conquer Arima Kana the child actor prodigy. You don't intend to do that but if that's what happen, it will happen. But they have to stop the  comparison because every person have their own flaws.

You even got to do some photoshoot for a child's brand. Well, this will be memories in a few years. Atleast, you get to feel being a child again. A carefree child. Because of all the acting, you had to learn new skills everytime even things that you didn't learn in your past life. Naturally, you're good at it.

I guess you would still be a genius this time too.

When the death of Ai Hoshino happened, you attend the funeral with your parent. The people grieving over Ai's death make you recall the time your parent got into a bad accident and passed away because of that. You didn't cry because you had no connection to her but it still hurts to know that the stranger you have met before when they're a teenager to died when they almost turn into a full fledged adult.

You hope the people from Strawberry Production is taking their time to heal from the loss of a staff. You can only give prayers to them.

Later on, the death of Ai was just like a wind breeze that pass every day. No one talk about it after a week. Some may move on and some didn't. Ai Hoshino may you rest in peace.

A year of being in the entertainment industry — thanks to your father. You don't care if they call you a nepo baby. You're talented, that's all that matter. You were invited to a variety show and you were excited since you can freely show your talents there. No on can say a thing about it. No one will question it.

You met the cast and greet them. It was going well until they start talking about your acting career. "Yoshino-san, you really resemble your mother and your acting skill is incredible. Mind to share a tip?" The MC compliment your acting. "I can't because I am ME. I don't think much on what to do and just go with the flow." You said with a neutral tone. One thing about the entertainment industry, they won't question what the kids say since their still not mature for their age and just let out what's on their mind. Even if you have a sharp tongue, the people will love it. They don't mind it when a kid do it. At the very least, you have to have a character that will make people love you.

That would make people remember you for a long time.

"Yoshino-san, your father said before in an interview that you are a genius. Top at everything, is that true?" One of the cast commented. You smirk "Why don't you give me a question and let me answer it? I would prefer if it's a math question, though." With this, you will make moments for yourself. The cast laugh at your confidence and gave you a whiteboard. You will be competing with the 'smartest' cast, they said.

"69 x 4."

Ding!

A ring was made by you. The questions was too easy. As former scientist, you had to count percentage so this is a piece of cake for you. The cast beside you look at you bewildered. "276." You confidently said. "Correct!" The MC exclaimed. You know that they're looking down on you. You ought to prove them wrong.

After a series of questions, the people were speechless upon your smartness. The adults didn't expect this. Your mother look at you behind the swarm of staff and smile widely. You notice it and wave a little.

Soon, the filming ended. You were tired and hold out your arms to your mother. Your mom chuckle s and carry you up to her arms and kiss you on the cheeks. "You did good, my little angel." Your mother praises you. You snuggle up to her. Even though, you are an adult mentally but you want to indulge in this child body of your of receiving parent's love.

Even an adult wants to heal their inner child.

TAGLIST : @glitch-karma @kult-o @miyakoa @pandaswitch @serbian-x @nambii @bajifairyy @lumiriai

[NEXT] [PREV] [SERIES LIST]

itonashi © // don't plagiarize, copy or edit my works.

[kykyonthemoon]

Blue Ribbon

Distracted from his work by you, he decided to use your special blue ribbon for another purpose.

ಇ. Zayne x Female Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, established relationship, MC being a baby, tied hands, soft bite

ಇ. Word count: ~1k4

ಇ. Requested by Ann.

ಇ. Masterlist

It initially started out as a date between you and Zayne.

You had planned ahead of time, opted for a light spring outfit, and wore a long blue ribbon in your hair with two tiny snowflake-shaped charms at both ends. You decided on it because it reminded you of Zayne.

You arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes before the scheduled date. Zayne was yet to leave his office. Yvonne informed you about an important meeting that Dr. Zayne needed to attend. You sat and waited outside his office for a while. Then, as if he knew you had arrived, he opened the door and welcomed you inside.

"Would that bother your work?" You inquired, and Zayne shook his head.

"Not a problem. The meeting has ended. There are only a few more things I need to take care of. Is it alright if you wait a little longer?"

You nodded. The office door closed behind him. For nearly the next hour, you obediently waited in the room. Feeling bored, you took out your phone to play with, wandered about the room, or sipped some tea. Zayne was still working intently on the computer as if you were not present. Sometimes, you could not help but feel a little sorry for yourself.

He failed to even glance at you, let alone praise you on how gentle your makeup was that day. Despite the fact that you were fully aware of Zayne's work ethic and the significance of his work, that afternoon was intended to be for you rather than the computer. The main reason you disagreed with it was that he lately had to work hard for several days in a row. You made him commit to spend time with you that afternoon. However, something unexpected occurred, causing his shift to be prolonged.

You felt both saddened and disappointed. You would sometimes approach him and poke him, as if to remind him that you still existed and that he needed to interact with you, even if only for a few minutes. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, his hands raced on the keyboard, and he spoke:

“Don't mess around. I'm almost done.”

Hearing that, you sighed again. When he stated he was almost done, it meant that his session lasted for nearly another hour. It was no longer dusk. You lamented your plan to go for an afternoon walk around Linkon City. But seeing him as a workaholic upset you so much. Finally, you decided that you would carry out your "scheme".

You got between him and the monitor. At first, you just stood there obstructing his view. Zayne gently drew you out of there  when you took the opportunity to take his hand and sat on his lap. Zayne seemed astonished, but his intense concentration prevented him from saying anything further to you. He let you sit on his lap, arms wrapped around you, and resumed typing.

Anger swelled in your heart. Even though you had no idea how urgent his business was, you did not appreciate being left out on your own date. He made a promise to spend the afternoon with you, and if there was an emergency, he would certainly let you know and reschedule the date rather than keep you waiting like this. Apparently, he just loved to work overtime.

In Zayne's lap, your body started to move. You deliberately turned around to wrap both arms around Zayne's neck. Your whisper found its way to his ear:

“Doctor Zayne, you promised to spend the afternoon with me. But you don't pay attention to me even just for a minute."

"Be still." Zayne's voice remained courteous and full of patience. "I still have another urgent meeting—"

"No!" You interrupted him. “Your shift ended a few hours ago.”

You felt Zayne's breath on your forehead as he replied: "Good girl. Please wait a bit longer."

But you chose not to be good. You gave him a pout before pressing your body close to his chest. You seized him firmly and kept urging:

“Take a break! Take a break! Doctor Zayne!”

Zayne was literally an iceberg. He was unmoved by your whining. You grew so helpless that you nibbled hard on his ear.

“Hmmph!”

Perhaps that was Zayne's limit. His expression stiffened. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off his lap. His other hand swiftly removed the blue ribbon from your head, forcing your already tidy hair to fall down.

You blinked with astonishment. You could only stand there and watch Zayne knot both of your hands with that ribbon. The knot was so tight that your wrists could not move at all. Zayne rose up, brought you down in his chair, and frowned.

"Stay there. I'm heading to the meeting hall and will be back later."

After finishing his speech, he picked up a file on the table and quickly walked out. After the door was closed, you sat still in disbelief of what had just transpired. It appeared like he had bound your hands using a surgeon's knot, which is widely used in surgery. This sort of knot required a lot of work to remove. You moved your hands around, just to make those minimal snowflake charms swing as if they were mocking you that Zayne had actually used his Evol to keep you in place.

You were speechless that Zayne would do that only to stop you from disturbing him. You were alone in his office, stunned and bitter. Perhaps you went too far when you bit him. You should have been more reasonable and waited for him to finish his work. You had waited for him longer than this before. Had you upset him? You were torn between sulking at him and apologizing first.

Zayne returned about a half hour later to undo the knot for you. He took you out to supper and then returned to your apartment. Throughout the ride, you spoke nothing to Zayne but a few quick responses as necessary. You still were not sure how to adequately express how you felt for him. What if he got mad and was ready to tie you up again?

But you were not expecting Zayne to grasp your hands as soon as you arrived home. He took a close look and massaged your wrists.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

He asked. You withdrew your hands again and turned away.

"No."

He could tell you were sulking by the tone of your speech. He pulled you back and embraced you from behind. It was his turn to explain:

"I'm really sorry. Today's work was so urgent that I could not postpone it until tomorrow. On another note, you may do whatever you want when it's just the two of us; but at work, it's not a smart idea. Since, if you continue to be naughty like that, I would…”

“What would you do, Doctor Zayne?” You were curious, and got the urge to tease him even more.

“I would be too distracted.”

"Alright. I'm sorry, too..." You smiled and spoke sweetly, yet there was a hint of huff in your voice. "But you didn't need to tie me up like that."

You struggled like a worm in his embrace. Zayne easily held you tightly with just one arm, the other hand stroked your hair.

"Alright. It is my fault. I should not have tied you up and left you at the office. I will compensate for you, okay?"

You remained silent while waiting for him to offer a good proposal.

"My entire day off tomorrow is dedicated to you."

"Hmm." You seemed less than satisfied. You turned around and gazed into Zayne's eyes. "I still want one more thing."

Zayne grinned, "Sure."

"You don't know what I'm going to ask for, and you've already agreed? Once you've said it, you can't take it back!"

He patted your head and reaffirmed: "I won't take it back."

You smiled as if you were plotting something, then pulled out your blue ribbon and lifted it in front of Zayne. It was time for him to feel the thrill of being tied with his own surgeon's knot. You requested:

"Show me how to tie that knot!" 

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon

🗡️ word count: 13.6k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: violence (a man gets stabbed in the eye, weaponized chopsticks, blood); recreational drug use & getting drunk; vomit.

🗡️note: are we ready to continue this story??? the cast of characters has doubled in size, and i think the angst & drama has multiplied, as well. i wrote this opening scene on april 20, 2023 moments after watching the Haegeum mv. it feels good to have finally built the rest of the chapter around it over a year later. this chapter is like 80% dialogue, lol sorry. we are setting up for what is to come in the rest of the fic. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ also note: in this chapter and the next, mc is borrowing clothing. if you are comfortable with imagining the clothing belongs to the thin kpop idols, please do. if you are not, then please don't. i am not making assumptions or allusions to body size but instead trying to paint a picture of being at the mercy of others.

🗡️ if you have not read the Yoongi POV chapter, i strongly recommend you do so before reading this.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

“He looks hesitant,” Ryujin drawls in a bored tone. She turns to face you and her lips upturn at the edges, eyes sparkling. “Like he’s scared of what he may find when he gets here.”

The air is stiflingly hot, creating a sticky film over your skin, and your body feels heavier than it should. In this humidity, you are dizzy and agitated. More than anything, you are not ready to come face to face with the man who has caused you so much confusion and mental duress.

“Good,” you say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers dig into your hip bones, and you do your best not to shuffle anxiously. You do not fully believe in your conviction, but you want your performance to be believable enough that the girls don't think you're weak. “He should be.”

“Looks like he brought all the family men,” she adds, turned back to watch their approach. 

Your heart flutters suddenly, wondering whether she means Jimin is there too, unable to hide the tremble in your voice as you ask, “A-all of them?”

This time, when Ryujin faces you, her expression appears contemplative, almost sad. 

“All of them,” she confirms, causing nausea and excitement to stir. 

All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you forward, toward the window. You do not fully approach, not wanting to be seen, so you stop as soon as you spot them walking in the street toward the noodle shop downstairs that doubles as your hideout. 

Seven figures approach in a V formation. Six of them wear ratty dark t-shirts and khaki pants, and they hold what look like juvenile weaponry—baseball bats and chains. Over their heads are balaclavas, reminding you of Christian's men. Is it meant to taunt him, you wonder. Do they think they will find him and his men here?

Yoongi is in the center, leading the charge, with no face covering and wearing a baby blue satin bomber jacket with thick white lines down the sleeves. On the breasts of the jacket are embroidered dragon heads, reminding you of Namjoon. 

Namjoon. The thought of seeing him again, like this, makes your insides stir. You feel the urge to vomit, but you hold your ground and watch as the men approach, wearing a frown on your lips. 

When the heads disappear from sight, you turn and listen for the silence that lingers in the air, save for the thrum of your pulse. A calm before a terrible storm.

Ryujin lets out a long, loud trill of a whistle—a signal, no doubt—and you listen as the 

hideout breaks out into chaos. Men scramble through the short hallway that leads out into the open space that Yoongi and his men will soon enter. 

"No guns!" Ryujin commands as she stomps through the space toward the hallway, clad in a white tank top tucked into a short black tennis skirt and tall leather equestrian boots. "You are on the defense only. Do not harm a single hair on any of these men's bodies. Do so and you die!"

As you stand near the window, you listen to the street commotion below. Vehicles drive along the narrow roads, vendors shout while ringing bells and chimes, and in the distance, a dog barks. 

You know that you will not hear the men's approaching footfalls, but you listen for them, anyway. Yoongi and the family men only need to walk through the small dining hall of the open-air restaurant below, then up a flight of stairs. You hear nothing that might give their positions away. 

"Wanna hide?" Hwasa—the nickname of your darling friend Hyejin—asks. She rests her chin on your shoulder and loosely wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a perfume of roses and lilies.

You shake your head and mutter, "No," watching the doorway for any movement.

Finally, heavy footfalls echo through the space, giving you goosebumps, and when you hear the sounds of shouting followed by someone running into the room, you hold your breath. 

"Fuck, fuck!" a man yells as he rounds the corner and cowers, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He seems to be patting himself down for a weapon, then he sighs and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his back to the wall. 

"Ya!" Hwasa yells, making the man gasp. "What is it?"

"B-big Duri," the man stammers, eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly as if attempting to clear away his thoughts. 

Duri is a hulk of a man who stands watch at the top of the stairs. He is as muscular as he is tall, with a bit of softness around his belly, and his towering status has earned him the title Big Duri from the other men. One snarl from him makes men cower away in fear.

"What about him?" Hwasa asks.

"He was s-stabbed," the man says, staring at the floor. "In the f-f-fucking eye."

Hwasa drops her arms from around you and stands up straight. You open your mouth to speak but find no sound can pass your lips. 

Footfalls approach, heavy and fast. You are not sure who you expect storming in from the hallway, but for some reason, it is not Yoongi. 

He walks in assuredly like he owns the place, dark hair framing his face in waves. Clenched in his right fist are two bright red chopsticks that look like the ones served at the restaurant downstairs, and you could swear the thinner ends of them are dripping with blood. 

"Darling, let's go," Yoongi says, wide eyes fixed on you. He looks like a madman with his hair somewhat disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his throat.  

You are surprised to see Yoongi dressed as he is. Under the pastel jacket is a white tee tucked into loose-fitting blue jeans. When was the last time you saw him in blue jeans? Your first trip to Hong Kong?

You heavy-blink, breaking from the thought process, and attempt to hold steady and keep cool. But you do not feel cool. Your pulse quickens, and you worry you might faint. 

"I'm staying here," you say, voice trembling. 

You half expect Yoongi to storm over and grab you by the arm. Part of you even feels saddened when he stays where he is. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, lifting his free hand to wave you over. "I'm not asking you twice."

"How many men did you kill out there?" you ask, eyes on the chopsticks that drip blood beside his dusty white sneaker. Yoongi's arm drops to his side and he heaves a weighty sigh, shoulders falling. 

Behind Yoongi, Ryujin saunters in. She grins and stands beside Yoongi, resting her head against his shoulder as she reaches for the bloodied chopsticks in his fist, saying, "You owe me a bodyguard."

Yoongi—whose eyes never leave you—throws the chopsticks to the floor, off to the side. They clatter against the uneven wood, and you wince at the thought of blood splattering. 

He mutters, "Fine." 

With that admission, you surmise that Yoongi has, indeed, stabbed Big Duri in the eye. How he managed to do so when he is so much smaller than the man is beyond you. You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating. 

Slowly, Ryujin lifts her head from Yoongi's shoulder. She turns her gaze to you as she says, "She doesn't want this life, Yoongi. She told you so, herself."

"Darling," Yoongi says, seemingly ignoring Ryujin, making her roll her eyes. "I will make some changes. We will figure it out. Just come home."

You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to leave."

"You are in danger," Yoongi insists, and you scoff. For the first time since you have arrived to this dingy place, there has been no hint of violence until he turned up. 

As Yoongi sighs, his nostrils flair. You can clearly see that he has something on his mind, but he remains still and silent. 

Anger rises, and you clench your fists at your sides. This is not the reunion you expected, but you cannot say you are shocked. "I told you I no longer want this life, and the first thing you do is stab a man—a good man!"

"Darling, I—" 

"Go home," you interrupt. 

Yoongi watches you, expression cold save for a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Every nerve in your body wants to propel you forward and into his arms, but you do not want to return to the home of a maniac who attacks men with chopsticks, beautiful as that maniac may be. 

"I have told you time and again that I cannot handle this life of death and destruction! And here you are, bringing it straight to my feet. Go home, Yoongi."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, raising his eyebrows. In the doorway, you see Namjoon appear, balaclava raised to his forehead. His dark grey tee is smeared with sweat and blood, and before he can open his mouth to speak, you turn around. There is absolutely no way you will be able to keep your strength if you are forced to face any more of them. 

"She wants you to leave," Hwasa says. You are grateful for her as you hear the heels of her boots against the rickety hardwood. "Now!"

"I want to speak to her," Namjoon says, and you are surprised to hear Yoongi say, "She does not wish to speak. Come on."

As their deep, low voices mutter, tears fill your eyes. You breathe in deeply, hoping to ward them off, but as you exhale, the air comes out shattered, and you know that you are only moments away from crying. 

"Tomorrow night, we can sit down and discuss matters," Ryujin says. 

You keep your eyes on the late afternoon sky, hanging on her every word. 

"Amicably," she continues. "No weapons. No hot tempers. And you have a man en route to Busan to take Duri's place when we arrive. Deal?"

"All of us?" Namjoon asks, and you fight the edges of your lips, which curl into a sad smile. 

Ryujin sighs. "Yes, all seven of you sordid little devils. Now get the fuck out of my hideout. You gave our darling a scare and I will not have her fainting because of it. I will send you a time and place, and you will show up dressed as respectable men. Seriously, what the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like trash."

Ryujin's voice fades as she continues to berate them, footsteps retreating, and it occurs to you once more that somewhere out in the chaos is Jimin. You turn, and the movement causes Yoongi's head to lift and eyes to open wide and expectantly, standing halfway in the hallway. You were not expecting him to still be here. To your disappointment, Namjoon has already left the room.

"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 

Relief floods Yoongi's face, and he cracks a smile, nodding as he says, "Yes. Come see him."

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. 

"Glad he's awake," you say. "Perhaps I will see you all tomorrow." 

Yoongi's expression turns sad, and you watch as he mouths the word perhaps before you turn your attention back to the window. The sound of his shoes retreating makes you want to throw up, and you swallow it down as a single tear streaks your left cheek. 

* * *

Ryujin lies on a large fur rug that she has pulled near the window. Atop the rug is a mess of blankets and pillows, and her limbs tangle with those of Hwasa and the other three girls. 

You sit arrow straight on the wide window sill, staring at the street below. The sky slowly darkens, illuminating the buildings with an orange glow that is exaggerated by the neon lights on each restaurant and storefront. 

"Yes, Yoongi," Ryujin says into her phone, playful irritation in her tone. "I swear to you there is nobody by that name in our ranks. Seokjin-oppa has already warned me about his possible presence."

You listen, hoping to hear traces of Yoongi's voice coming through the phone, but you know that it is hopeless; his dulcet tones do not exactly travel far even while in the same room as him. Muffled and at a distance, the notion is hopeless.

"You know," Ryujin continues, "you would have less to worry about if you hadn't stabbed my most trusty security guard in the fucking eye with a chopstick."

Her words make you wince, and you turn away from the window, staring at the empty wall opposite where Ryujin and the girls rest. The floral wallpaper is peeled in places and tinted brown from water damage, but otherwise, the space is clean and empty, save for six suitcases and the items Ryujin has brought in and strewn about for comfort. 

Outside of this room is a hallway that connects to more rooms, though you have not bothered to look into any of them, save for the bathroom, which is the first room to the right as you exit this one. Whatever this hideout was originally built for, you do not know, and you do not care, although you imagine at least one of the rooms could serve as office space for the restaurant below. 

A shrill laugh barks through the air, making you jump. You gaze over your shoulder to find Ryujin's head tilted back, eyes closed as she full-body laughs. 

"Don't be a fucking idiot," she says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. "No scrub in clown paint is going to buy our little darling from me. Now get some sleep; we'll talk about this tomorrow evening, as promised."

Something about Ryujin calling you our little darling sends a chill along your spine, and you turn back to staring at nothing. She ends the call abruptly, and you hear as her phone clatters against the wooden floor, undoubtedly tossed aside. 

"Darling," Ryujin calls, voice soft and pretty, causing your shoulders to rise to your ears as if protecting you—from what, you are unsure. 

You swallow hard. "Hmm?"

Ryujin giggles. "Come. You're so tense. Relax with us."

She is correct that you are tense. You have been tense for days. When you got into her car at the airport, she said you would be here for two or three days, but it is going on a week, and you are tired of sleeping on rugs in a pile of bodies. You want to return to a bed. Any bed. 

As you turn to face Ryujin and the others, you are struck by a sense of homesickness and longing that makes your stomach churn. Hwasa and three slender beauties called Solar, Wheein, and Moonbyul crowd Ryujin, who sits up on her elbows, gaze fixed on you.

Hwasa's head is against Ryujin's left shoulder, near her breast, and she watches you, as well, gaze soft but pleading. Moonbyul, with her long, straight hair lightened to a pale gold blonde, has her head on Hwasa's tummy, curled in on her. The other two are resting similarly, with Solar clinging to Ryujin and Wheein clinging to Solar, long dark hair draped over limbs which are draped over more limbs clad in white cotton and black spandex. 

You watch them in their near-stillness, questioning where you would fit. Clearly, the five of them are tight. They call her mother, and she proudly dotes on them as if they are her precious children.

Ordinarily, you wait for everyone to begin dozing off, then you curl up on one of the outside edges, back turned from whichever woman is beside you. But you know that Ryujin wants you to be physically close to her—you can tell by the way she watches you.

What would physical closeness to a woman like her entail, you wonder. 

"So shy," Ryujin pouts. "So moody."

Hwasa, as if mirroring her energy, juts out her bottom lip. 

Ryujin tilts her head, studying you. "What does the lady require to help take the edge off?"

Although she is not explicitly saying so, you know that she is offering pills. Every day that you do not give in and crawl to Ryujin and her pile of women, she assumes it is due to some defect in your ability to relax. In a way, you suppose, she is correct. 

"Going home would take the edge off," you respond, voice flat and lacking all mirth.

Ryujin sighs, and her pretty, impish smile falls into a dramatic frown. "I, too, would like to go home. And I promise that we will, soon. Yoongi is convinced there is some third party attempting to track you down, and he has been insistent on weeding the man out. He seems to think that you are safest while remaining in hiding. I, however, think we are sitting ducks."

You hum and nod.

She sits up ever so slightly, causing the clinging women to shift along with her movement. "What do you think?"

What do you think? Such a simple, innocent question, yet it stirs an anger in you that is so deep, festering in the dark pits of you that are fed by lack of proper comfort and sleep. 

There is a part of you that wants to snap at Ryujin and ask whether she really cares what you think. You want to storm up to her, take her by the straps of her white tank top, and shake some sense into her while demanding she returns you to Korea at once. 

Another part of you worries that Yoongi is being too paranoid to think clearly and that he is making an already strange situation worse. You find it hard to believe Christian has weaseled his way into Taiwan and is lying in wait to pounce, if that is what the phone call just now suggests.

But, then again, you never would have imagined Christian would show up with a briefcase of money, nor did you expect to see him turning up to the mansion in the middle of the night. Still, the notion feels ridiculous. You're not in Korea anymore. 

You shrug, purse your lips as if you are thinking it over, and say, "I don't really know."

Truth be told, you are exhausted, catapulting emotionally from one extreme to another, finding it impossible to truly relax. You are not sure whether Ryujin has done anything to deserve your vitriol; she has kept you safe and fed, even if you are slowly succumbing to exhaustion-induced hysteria. 

Her history with Yoongi notwithstanding, she appears reasonable and kind. It is hard to hate her for her past when it has opened up Yoongi's arms to you—for better or worse. It is not as if you regret the time you have spent with him.

And, if you are being honest, you wonder whether the transgression between them was as simple as the men put it, or if there is more to her side of the story. Surely, she did not wake up one day and decide to betray the man she loved.

Or, perhaps, she is charming you the way Yoongi did. What better way to tame a wild beast than to uproot it from the comfort and safety it has grown accustomed to and force it into close proximity, giving it no other choice than to be grateful and eventually feel some semblance of love toward its captor. Maybe she and Yoongi have more in common than you realize.

The thought makes you snicker, and you stand, taking notice of how Ryujin lifts her chin and watches you. Hwasa stirs and sits up, causing Moonbyul to roll off of her with a groan and clench onto the pillow below her.

"Going to the bathroom," you say.

Hwasa stands as Ryujin sing-songs, "Buddy system," causing you to smile and roll your eyes. 

You are not allowed to do anything outside of this room—including taking a shit—without the accompaniment of one of the girls. Lucky for you, Hwasa is always willing and eager to be close.  

Hwasa tiptoes over and snakes an arm around your elbow, momentarily resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk. You have come to enjoy her company quite a bit, and you are relieved to have her here. 

While it was shocking to lay eyes on Hwasa after your plane landed in Taiwan, she was very clear and open about her circumstances, and you found it easy to trust her. According to her, Seokjin and Jimin gave her the position at Paradise knowing she was one of Ryujin's women, reminding you of Hyunjin and how he and his family were safe, after all. 

Yoongi may not have been working directly with Ryujin this entire time, but it seems that his men have been. And, judging by how comfortable he seemed with letting Ryujin touch him and boss him around earlier, you do not suspect that he harbors the same ill thoughts that he seemed to when you first encountered her all those months ago. 

You wonder what has changed. Has it been your presence in his life, or something more? After all the destruction Ryujin's team has caused Yoongi's family over the last several months, ending with Jimin in a coma, some sort of truce had to have been made. You have heard whispers of conversations, but you are curious about the specifics. It seems the woman who was at the helm of the destruction, Hyungseo, is not here. 

In due time, you think. You have no doubt Ryujin will open up to you.

As you and Hwasa leave the room and venture quietly into the hall, two armed men look up from the game of Chinese checkers that they play on the floor, and smile. They are beautiful, and you smile back, yanking your gaze away from them before you are able to make any more of an impression on either of them.

Admittedly, you are lonely. Physically, emotionally, sexually…and there is something in the gleams of their eyes that stirs you deeply, but you know that it is not them who do it for you. 

It is their eyes. They share the same piercing, knowing gaze of hunger and brutality that glimmers in the eyes of the family men. Your family men. 

"I think Yunho likes you," Hwasa teases, voice loud enough for him to undoubtedly hear, though you do not turn back to look. 

Instead, you press your palm against the cold metal door leading into the small bathroom and sheepishly ask, "Which one is he, again?"

A snicker comes from the floor, undoubtedly from Yunho's companion Seonghwa, and you turn as you enter the dimly lit room, grinning widely at your friend. The bathroom door swings shut, and the scents of toilet cleaner and bleach sting your nose. 

There are three toilet stalls in this room with mint green painted metal doors. The walls are a similar shade of green, and the yellow and white tiles on the floor are chipped in places.

You make your way to the sinks straight ahead and turn on the water, which is always cold, and run your hands under the stream. On the counter, in the corner, is a large black makeup case containing travel-sized toiletries for yourself and the rest of the women, and you open its lid and rummage around for your toothbrush and toothpaste. 

"How are you holding up?" Hwasa asks as you unscrew the cap from the toothpaste and squeeze a small dollop of its contents onto your bristles, careful not to take too much. 

You shrug, and rather than respond, raise the brush to your mouth. The mint is cloyingly sweet as it hits your taste buds, and you close your eyes, worried that its minty sting may tangle with your emotions and cause tears to well.

"Will you be joining Ryujin to meet with them for dinner tomorrow?"

Without opening your eyes, you begin to shake your head, not sure whether you can handle sitting at the same table with all of them. But then Jimin's bright, gleaming smile crosses your mind, and you shrug and nod. You may as well. 

Hwasa chuckles, and her hands rest softly on your shoulders before giving a gentle squeeze. All at once, you relax, dropping your shoulders and tipping your head forward, instinctively giving her permission to do anything she would like. 

As you finish brushing your teeth and tongue, she squeezes your muscles and rolls her thumbs in circles. You hold the small plastic brush between your teeth, feeling a dribble of frothy, minty spit roll down your lip to your chin, and you rest your palms against the counter until Hwasa lifts her hands away. 

"I suppose I should brush my teeth, too," she says with a pout in her tone, and you open your eyes to see her squirting some paste onto a matching toothbrush that she has written AH on in large letters for Ahn Hyejin. 

You spit, rinse, and spit some more, then use the inside of your sweaty black tank top to dab the moisture from the edges of your mouth. When Hwasa is finished, the two of you link arms once more and make your way out of the bathroom, ignoring Yunho and Seonghwa as you walk by. 

The rest of the girls, led by Ryujin, walk by in a fit of soft giggles, and you make your way to the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling physically exhausted despite being uncertain of whether you may actually be able to sleep. 

Hwasa follows and lies down beside you, beaming as she scoots nice and close and wraps an arm around your waist before you have a chance to roll away and face the wall. 

"Not so fast," she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. "You always roll away. Snore in my face for once."

Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. "I do not snore."

Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, "Everyone snores a little," and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.

You feel too warm, and the scent of Hwasa's perfume mingling with her body heat stirs something inside you, filling you with the urge to flee. You are lonely, and she is beautiful and soft, and suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room.

At a loss, you close your eyes. Whether you roll your body away or continue to face her, she will not create more distance because she cannot. As soon as the other girls return, they will pile into the bed, and you will feel the weight of ankles and wrists drape over you. 

"Good night, pretty dove," Hwasa sing-songs. 

You crack a smile, unable to hold back despite how dangerous it feels to allow yourself to be anything but stoic and collected for the time being. The nickname reminds you of Paradise and of Jimin, and you are unable to hold back. 

"Good night, Hyejin," you mutter in response, forgetting her nickname for the familiar one as her warmth and comfort lulls you fast into a sleep you did not expect to come. 

You actually feel…good.

* * *

The rattle and clanking of dishes and silverware have all of your nerves on high alert, causing your pulse to spike and your palms to sweat. You are acutely aware of the fact that at any moment, several men you miss and adore are going to come walking into the private dining room to join you, Ryujin, and Hwasa, and you are going to have to face them.

Each time a member of the serving staff enters, your eyes dart up in panic, and each time they bow apologetically, confusion painted across their features. Under the table, from your right, Hwasa grips onto your hand and mutters kind words that are lost over the pounding of your heart. 

When your trio arrived first, you were grateful. You assumed that by the time you waited on the arrival of the men, your nerves would have calmed and you would have composed yourself. 

But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong. 

With each passing second, your heart riots behind your ribs, quick and dizzying. You feel the urge to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but you are terrified of what it may do to Yoongi if he arrives to find that you are not sitting at this table. 

Food and drink are brought in. Large dishes covered in steaming meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles. Carafe after carafe is set down, and as you sit forward to peer into one of them, Hwasa says, "That is kaoliang. Fermented liquor from China." Your mouth begins to water, but you are not sure you are ready just yet to start drinking. 

Shadows linger outside the door to the private room, tall and wide blobs obscured by the privacy glass. Ryujin glances at her watch, mutters, "Fucking finally," and stands, causing Hwasa to stand as well. 

You remain glued to your seat. Even if you wanted to stand, you are not sure you would be able to. 

As the door slides open, your heart pounds. Seokjin enters with a smirk and a bow of his head, followed by Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, Namjoon, and finally, Yoongi. 

Jimin beams, eyes and mouth wide and happy, and he rounds the table in a rush, pushing past Ryujin, who attempts to pull him into a hug. Your eyes fill with tears, and as you finally get onto your feet, legs wobbling beneath you, the tears spill, streaking your cheeks. 

You stumble and crash into the papered wall from the force of Jimin's hug, elbow scraping and stinging, but you do not care. Jimin smells and feels so familiar, and you sob in his arms, burying your face into his black lapel and letting out a deep, shattered breath.

"Oh my god," you manage to mutter against his shoulder, and he tries to loosen the hug to hear you speak, but you shake your head like a petulant child and pull him closer, refusing to let go. "I was so scared, Jimin. I thought I might never— I've missed you so much."

Voices greet one another, and chairs scrape across the floor, signaling that the others have begun to find their seats. This time, when Jimin begins to release the hug, you allow him, dropping your hands from his shoulders but holding them loosely around his hips.

Jimin's eyes are glassy with tears, and hair is slightly longer, almost grown out into a mullet. For the first time since you have met him, it is brown, and you mutter, "Nice hair," while doing your best to smile widely despite still crying. 

He grimaces at you, lifting his hands to thumb away the moisture under your eyes. Then he leans in, kisses the tip of your nose, and says, "All better, dove."

"Thank you," you whisper, sound lodged in your throat, then you release Jimin for good and pivot to take your seat, taking a deep breath before allowing your eyes to fall on the rest of the men. 

To your surprise and dismay, you find Ryujin sitting across from you with her eyebrows raised and a sharp, devious smile playing on her lips. To her left is Hwasa, and to her right is Jeongguk. You do not need to look to see that Yoongi and Namjoon have taken the seats on either side of you because of course, they have. Where else would they be?

But you do look. You sweep the sprawling rectangular table, starting with Namjoon at your left, then Hoseok, with Seokjin at the far end, where you anticipated Yoongi might sit. Past Seokjin is Taehyung, then Jeongguk, then Ryujin, who is leaning to the side and whispering something to Hwasa, whose hand reaches to where Jimin sits on the other far end. 

Jimin inspects Hwasa's rings and nails, dainty fingers tracing delicate lines. When she turns back to look at him, there are tears in her eyes, and you realize belatedly that she has missed him, as well. Of course, she has.

You do not look at Yoongi, gaze ending with Jimin. Yoongi clears his throat, causing Ryujin to stand, and—feeling uncomfortable with also standing while she speaks—you quickly have a seat. 

Ryujin bows her head, hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. She, matching Hwasa, wears a black suit with a white silk blouse, blending in with the black suits and black satin undershirts the men wear. You are the odd one out in a sleek black evening gown; Ryujin was insistent. At least it, too, is satin. 

"Gentlemen," Ryujin says, and all at once, the men stand, bow their heads, and sit, including Yoongi, who scoots in close beside you. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust you have found us a replacement bodyguard?"

Yoongi hums a gruff, low note, and you are acutely aware of his presence by your side. His scent—earthy and musky, ever so slightly tinged with citrus—sneaks past the savory blend of food smells and floods your senses. You swallow a lump of trepidation that has crept its way to your throat. 

"First of all, I would like to thank you for trusting me with taking care of our little darling," Ryujin says, turning to look at Seokjin. She remains standing. "As you are all aware, things between Yoongi and I have not always been easy. But, moving forward, I would like for all of us to remain amicable."

At this, Ryujin's eyes land on Yoongi. She appears fierce and ruthless in the way she looks down at him, lips upturned as if to show that she is enjoying this position of power. 

You glance from the corner of your eye to find that Yoongi peers back up at her, sitting tall on the edge of his seat. His expression is blank, as is to be expected. There is a long pause during which you wish someone would speak or move to eat or drink—anything to cut through the tension.

Finally, Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and sits back, shifting his weight in a more relaxed position. He clears his throat, and you turn your gaze to the piles of meats, vegetables, noodles, and rice. 

It sounds as if Yoongi attempts more than once to speak but struggles to find the words. At this, Namjoon sits forward, pulling your attention to the left, and he asks, "May I?"

Ryujin's face lights up. "Of course, Joonie-oppa. The floor is yours."

"Firstly, thank you for your hospitality. The hideout was certainly difficult to locate—"

Ryujin snickers. At this, Jeongguk stands, facing her, "Look, noona, if you would have answered your phone, we never would have shown up there with—"

"Sit down," Ryujin snaps, turning a playful but intense glare on Jeongguk, whose mouth snaps shut as he takes his seat. Beside him, Taehyung snickers. "I didn't answer my phone because I wanted to converse with her before making any choices, and you idiots acted irrationally."

At the word her, Ryujin lifts her hand and gestures to you, momentarily pulling your gaze. Although you do not glance around, you are certain that all heads turn to look your way, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat while you begin watching droplets of condensation streak your water glass.  

"Pardon us for being concerned," Yoongi responds, voice tense and pained. 

This seems to quell whatever emotion that has Ryujin acting defensive, and she slowly takes her seat and reaches for the bottle of kaoliang. All seem to be waiting for her response, and she takes her time lifting her glass to her lips and sitting back in her chair. 

"Nobody faults you for being concerned, oppa. But you need to be more considerate of the reason she has come to me in the first place."

Yoongi must open his mouth to speak once more because Ryujin lifts her hand to stop him before she continues. 

"Yes, I know that you are concerned for her safety, especially in the wake of some mysterious man from her past showing up out of nowhere. But she was already planning on leaving for mental health reasons. So maybe storming in with chopsticks blazing is not the wisest way to reunite with someone who is already shell-shocked from all the other bullshit she has had to witness."

"Some of the bullshit was at the hands of your people," Namjoon interjects. 

Ryujin levels her gaze on him. "The most heinous bullshit, I would imagine. And as you can see, Hyungseo is not present. I am dealing with her, and Seokjin, Yoongi, and I have already discussed ways I can help with harm reduction."

Your gaze moves to the right, to Jimin, and you are surprised to find he is already looking at you. You smile, unable to stop the tears that form from how relieved you are that he is alright. 

"I know that trust has been tarnished between our families, and that myself and my girls have taken things too far," Ryujin admits. "I sent my people out to scare you, and they did so much more than that. I will never stop feeling sorry for what has happened. Not a night has gone by that I have not been filled with regret over someone so precious to all of us becoming seriously injured."

Ryujin lifts an arm, reaches over Hwasa, and holds out her hand to Jimin. He takes it without hesitation. 

"He could have died," Jeongguk says, brows knit in a frown. 

Ryujin sighs. "I know this, Ggukie. And I am so, so sorry. I am determined to quash any bad blood and begin earning your respect. Tomorrow we leave for Busan. Once we are all back home, Serendipity will be opened for a night of drinking, drugs…whatever you heathens do."

To your surprise, many of the men snicker, amused. 

"Seokjin and Hoseok already have a security team on standby so that you are not only relying on my people to keep you safe," Ryujin continues. "The era of family feuding is over. I am happy with my little piece of the peninsula, and I want drug operations to continue in a way that is lucrative for both of us. We will remain your first line of defense in the harbor, and in return, all that I ask is that we get free reign in Seoul to come and go."

Yoongi clears his throat. "If Sunmi-noona will accept the offer, she can be your liaison in the city once more."

At this, a mischievous smirk tugs on Ryujin's lips. She gives Jimin's hand a squeeze before releasing it, then raises both elbows to the table to cradle her chin in her hands. "Tell me, oppa. Why does Sunmi-unnie spit at my feet whenever I mention your name?"

Yoongi says nothing. 

Rather than press him, she winks, then reaches for a large metal spoon and begins to fill her dish. Everyone hesitates, and it is Jeongguk who breaks the tension and follows suit, scooping food onto Taehyung's plate and causing the others to act in kind. You sit still, unsure whether you have an appetite. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks at the same time two fingers gently caress the back of your arm. 

Your evening gown is a form-hugging halter top with a low back, leaving your skin open to soft, delicate assaults like the ones Yoongi likes to conduct in gentle motions. You flinch but try not to pull your arm away, worried about hurting his feelings.

Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"

You shake your head but mutter, "I don't know."

"Should I have sat elsewhere?" he asks. He shifts as if he is looking over and around you, and you imagine he is speaking nonverbally to Namjoon. 

The room is too bright, the food and cologne smells are too numerous, and the sounds of voices and silverware and porcelain are too loud. You raise your shoulders to your ears, then turn toward Yoongi, still unable to meet his eye as you ask, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Yoongi stands, says, "Excuse us for just a moment," and waits for you. 

As you stand, you catch Ryujin's eye. She appears concerned and places her palms on the table as if ready to stand and defend you. 

You nod and say, "We'll be right back," and watch as she relaxes. 

A warm palm presses against your lower back, and Yoongi guides you toward the door, out into a small hallway, and to the left. The restaurant's main dining hall is to the right, and you are thankful to walk in the opposite direction, not sure whether you can handle another person's eyes on you. 

Yoongi walks into an empty private dining room, switches on the light, and holds out his arm for you to enter. As you step inside, you hear him conversing softly with who you assume to be an employee, and then he joins you, closing the door behind him.

As you stand and face the large, empty dining room, you expect Yoongi to touch you or prod you into speaking. Perhaps you expect him to beg you to return home. Instead, he seems to be waiting.

After only a handful of seconds, you decide you cannot take it anymore. Every ounce of you yearns for Yoongi, and knowing he is so close and being so patient has you reeling. You turn and quickly step toward him, reaching for his lapels and burying your face against his chest. He smells like home, and as he wraps his arms around you, warmth fills your chest, and you begin to cry.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm sorry I had to leave. I miss you, Yoongi, but I can't stand being there. I can't do it."

"Shh," Yoongi whispers, lips pressing to your temple, causing you to cry harder. It has only been a week, and yet you feel as if you have been away from him for so long. 

"I'm sorry we keep creating distance. I don't know how to make it work out. I'm so scared, Yoongi." You are fumbling, mouth on autopilot, dredging up each time you and Yoongi were apart, feeling somehow responsible for everything despite knowing you have always only done your best. 

"Yesterday was a mistake," Yoongi says, peppering kisses from the crown of your hair to your cheek and back up. "I was terrified and not in my right mind. You left in a frenzy, and then there was that letter, and it all been very confusing—"

You sniffle loudly, letting out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. "Oh my god, the letter. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi chuckles, gently grabs your shoulders, and pries you away from his chest. You allow him to move you, and you stand straight but keep your eyes on his black satin shirt. You do not want to see his scar or the pretty way in which his eyes downturn when he is sad. 

His voice is soft and conspiratorial as he says, "I almost killed Seokjin after I found it."

With wide, surprised eyes, you look up, unable to hold back any longer. Yoongi's smile is loving and big, and his eyes sparkle with happiness, making your stomach roil with uncertainty. His scar is still so red against his soft skin, but it adds so much to his allure and beauty.

"I was under the impression you were running away with Barom, what with the timing of it all. You packed a bag, left behind all of our gifts, and disappeared into the night the moment he arrived."

Despite Yoongi's high spirits, you shake your head somewhat desperately. "I wrote it earlier that day, thinking I might run away a night or two later. I was scared that if I said goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave." Tears build once more, and your body goes limp, hanging against the weight of Yoongi's hands. "Yoongi, I'm so—"

"Alright, no more sorries," Yoongi says, pressing against your shoulders enough to signal that he would like you to stand up and get your shit together. "Seokjin explained your conversations and motives to us already, and I have long since forgiven the both of you. I understand why you felt you had to sneak away. Remember when I went missing in Hong Kong? I was also in the midst of a mental health crisis, darling. I have no hard feelings."

You straighten out and search Yoongi's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, but all you find is a soft, loving gaze looking back at you. With a relieved sigh, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your cheek against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

"I love you," you say, feeling the words fill you with warmth. 

Yoongi drapes one arm over your shoulders and rests his other hand against the back of your head. "I love you, too," he says. "And if you need time and space, I will give it to you. Despite everything, I trust the girls to take good care of you."

"Is it weird?" you ask, pulling out of the hug and stepping back only far enough to see Yoongi's face. His only response is to raise one eyebrow. "Being around her again, I mean. Was she always so bossy?"

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose it is a little weird, but we were friends first and foremost, and being friendly with her again feels easy. She has not always been that bossy, per se, but she has always been strong-willed enough to face all seven of us down the way she did tonight."

This makes you laugh, and you lean into Yoongi once more, tilting your head to press your lips to his throat, just under his chin. 

"Thank you," you say. Yoongi hums, and you add, "For giving me time and space. For being understanding. That night was a fucking mess, and I have been really scared for what the aftermath may look like."

"No hard feelings," Yoongi repeats. "As long as you are happy."

All at once, you are flooded with myriad thoughts. Are you happy? This last week, while being more or less calm on your nerves, has also been lonely and strange. Would you feel better if you cut your losses and went back home to your men, where everything felt familiar again? Could you cycle through medications until finding the magical cocktail that would allow you to be whole again?

No, you think. Probably not. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, voice soft and uncertain. "I don't know how long I might need. I can't promise—"

Yoongi kisses your forehead, pressing his lips slowly as he hums. He says, "I'm sure. We can figure it out one day at a time."

With everything out in the open, your stomach pangs with hunger. You smile and ask, "Can we go eat now?" and you are delighted when Yoongi smiles with relief and says, "Yes, of course."

With his thumbs, Yoongi rubs below your eyes. His hands linger on your cheeks, and you expect him to lean forward and kiss you, but he drops his hands a beat later, then grabs onto one of yours and asks, "Shall we?"

Yoongi leads the two of you back to the dining room, and as you enter, you are pleased to find the entire table has erupted into pleasant conversation. Jeongguk's arm is draped over Ryujin's chair while Hwasa emphatically tells them a story, and Jimin is leaning close, listening with his chin propped onto his hands. 

Taehyung is explaining something while glancing between Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok, and as you and Yoongi round the table and return, nobody acknowledges the two of you until you take a seat and Namjoon—eyes still on Taehyung—gently places a hand on your knee. 

It is only when you begin to reach for half-empty bowls of food that Namjoon takes your plate in his hand that you realize how long it has been since the two of you have spoken. You are once again overwhelmed with emotion and fight the urge to say sorry a hundred more times. 

Instead, he points with a large metal spoon and says, "Both of these dishes have a tangy garlic sauce, but this one is a bit more spicy."

"I'd like to try both," you say, watching as Namjoon spoons a heap of chicken with vegetables onto your dish, followed by a heap of tofu and peanuts with vegetables in a slightly redder sauce full of chopped red peppers. 

As Namjoon sets your plate in front of you, you reach with your long metal chopsticks with the intent to gather some noodles from a dish that is across from Yoongi, out of Namjoon's reach. However, Yoongi takes the dish and begins to scoop some onto a smaller plate for you, and you sit back with a smile and wait for him to finish. 

"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.

You know in an instant that he is referring to the dream that you wrote about in your letter, and you feel silly as you bite your bottom lip and nod. 

"That has to be really stressful," he says, reaching for a pitcher of water to fill his empty glass. 

You smile sadly, imagining his white shirt filling with blood. It is stressful, but— "On the plus side, I get to see you."

As you lift your gaze to meet Namjoon's, his furrowed brow and wilted frown gently lift, not quite into a smile, but at least something a bit more relaxed. 

"Hi," you say softly, taking in Namjoon's familiar, beautiful face.

His smile widens, creasing his cheeks with dimples. He mutters, "Hey, you," and the soft, dulcet tone of his voice fills your chest with warmth. 

You open your mouth to tell him that you love him. That you miss him. That you're sorry for leaving. So, so sorry. 

But Ryujin loudly asks, "Caviar?" pulling the attention of everyone at the table. 

Behind her, waitstaff hold new plates, and everyone nods in agreement before continuing their conversations. And although you could pour your heart out now, Hoseok steals Namjoon's attention away, and you decide the moment has passed.

Food and drink continue to appear in waves, and suddenly, you are tipsy and full and tired. Namjoon stands to walk around the table and have a quiet conversation with Ryujin, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to steal his seat. He and Jeongguk discuss business operations at Paradise while you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes listening to the sound of his voice. He is alive. He is awake. 

He speaks slower, and there is a rough quality to his voice that was not present before. It seems to take him more time to process what is said to him, and he reacts as if on a delay. But he is here and alive and awake. 

Only when more kaoliang is poured, and Ryujin raises a toast do you sit up and take your cup. You barely hear what she shouts, booze and excitement slurring her speech, but you make out the words together, family, and happy, and you tap your small glass against as many as you can reach before shooting the strong liquid down.

A large, warm hand rests on your right knee, and as you set down your empty glass, you turn to find Yoongi watching you, glassy-eyed with a smile on his lips. You attempt to smile back but instead, swallow thickly and search for something to say. Luckily, he speaks first.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it has been without you at home?” Yoongi’s gaze becomes pained but remains soft, tugging at your heart. 

And although the sentiment is sweet, you are unable to ignore the impossibility of his question. In fact, for some inexplicable reason—you suppose you must blame the alcohol—you become somewhat annoyed.

You ask, “How could I possibly know that? And anyway, don't you have your hands full as it is?”

Across the table, Jeongguk snickers. It takes Yoongi a second to react, and you are glad when the corners of his lips raise into another smile, even if just for a second. 

“Being around those girls has made you sassier than you were before, darling,” he mutters under his breath. 

You roll your eyes. “It has only been a week, darling.”

Leaning close, elbows on the table, Yoongi lowers his voice and says, “It only took me about a week to begin wearing you down.”

Arousal stirs from the tone of his voice, but so does your stomach. Being kidnapped and worn down is not exactly a topic that you delight in discussing. You must not show your dissatisfaction, however, because Yoongi leans in close and presses a soft, warm kiss against your cheek. 

As the raucous dinner comes to an end and you begin to wish everyone a safe trip home, Jeongguk finally approaches. You have been holding back the urge to kick him in the shin all night, feeling somewhat scorned by his lack of attention. 

"So you're going to stay with the girls?" he asks, standing close enough to wrap you in an embrace but keeping his arms to his sides.

You nod and find it hard to hold his eye contact, looking down at his satin-clad shoulder instead. Jeongguk lifts a hand and delicately places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head until you look him in the eyes. The contact of his skin against yours sends an electric current through you, and you shiver. 

"Call me if you need anything. I can be to Busan in a matter of hours."

Sheepishly, you glance down again and mutter, "I don't have anyone's number anymore."

Jeongguk drops his hand, turns to the left, and says, "Seokjin-hyung! What the fuck, man?"

Arguing ensues, but you are too distracted by Namjoon wrapping his arms around your side and pressing his lips to your neck. Suddenly, your bones are jelly, and you stumble to the right, leaning your weight against his embrace. Yoongi joins, taking your chin in his hand in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, and tilting your lips against his. 

"We'll be ready whenever you are," Namjoon insists, lips grazing over your skin. "Whatever you need…please don't shut us out."

Somewhere behind Namjoon, Seokjin shouts, "Yah! I'll upload everyone to her contact list. Quit fussing!"

"Okay," you mutter while smiling against Yoongi's retreating mouth, unable to find anything more substantial to say despite it all lying in wait at the tip of your tongue all night. 

"We miss you," Yoongi says, pressing another kiss against your temple. "But we can wait if that is what you need."

Tears well and you fight the urge to sob. Not here, you tell yourself. Not now. You have already cried so much.

You hug everyone, even Seokjin and Hoseok. Jeongguk attempts to play it cool, but he stares at your lips the entire time, and you practically beg him to kiss you before ultimately letting him walk away. Jimin litters your cheeks and temples with loud, wet smooches, causing you to giggle and shriek. 

Taehyung asks about your medication, making your heart ache from his kindness. You briefly inform him that you have been having no dizzy spells, and he promises to send you more medication as soon as you are in Busan. 

Finally, Namjoon and Yoongi pull you into another three-way hug and take turns kissing your lips, cheeks, and forehead. They mutter soft, sweet phrases that you only make out the tones of, feeling the whooshing of your pulse as you begin to question whether you are making a huge mistake and should just grab your shit and go home. 

And then, all waving and clambering out the door haphazardly, they are gone, and the room is quiet. 

You sigh and glance around at the dregs of food and alcohol, feeling simultaneously full and empty in more ways than one. Tears fill the edges of your eyes, and you do your best not to blink, worried that any movement will cause them to spill. 

Ryujin sighs loudly. "Alright, well, this was fun and all, but I want to get fucking laid. You girls down for a night on the town?"

You glance down at your outfit, ready to complain, only you look good enough to go to a nightclub and find you have nothing to say to the contrary. You even wear a pair of cozy black ballet slippers, which you slid on while feeling unsure whether you could handle so many tumultuous emotions while wearing heels, and for that, you are grateful. 

"Sure," you utter while turning to Hwasa, who has a drunk but devious grin tugging on her lips. Her smile widens and she claps excitedly.

The drive to the nightclub is long, and you are exhausted by the time you arrive, having been fading in and out of a stupor. You feel more drunk than you had earlier, and you are tempted to suggest taking a cab back to the hideout alone. Of course, that would never fly. You can already hear Ryujin singing buddy system in your head.

Hwasa eagerly pulls you from the back of the car and chuckles as she rubs her fingertips along the edge of your hairline and says, "Poor sleeping beauty. We'll get you something that will wake you up, okay?"

You respond with a halfhearted smile and nod, and she takes your hand in hers and yanks you to the door, not bothering to stop for the security guard who, to your surprise, makes no move to stop you either. Inside, loud bass-heavy club music plays, and you are led through a series of hallways until you enter a large room full of the rest of Ryujin's girls and a group of men. 

The room is dark and somewhat hazy, lit by strips of purple lights along the ceiling and floor. Short two or three-person sofas line the mirrored walls and are dispersed throughout the space, most of which are occupied. On tables set beside each sofa are bottles of champagne and piles of cocaine, with glasses large and small scattered throughout and topped with small lamps that emit very little light.

Ryujin approaches a man sitting amidst the chaos by himself, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, thumbing through his cell phone. You are curious whether these men are people she knows, and you watch to see how familiar she is with the lone man, but Hwasa steps in your line of vision and takes your chin in both of her hands. 

"Coke?" she asks. 

You want to say no, proud of yourself for being off the shit for as long as you have been away from home. But you are certain that without it, you will not survive this night, so you nod and allow yourself to be tugged further into the room, to an unoccupied table. 

"Don't worry, this is from our stash," Hwasa says as she picks up a discarded rolled-up 100-dollar Taiwanese bill and tightens it between her finger and thumb. "Moon and Solar were in charge of overseeing the distribution process."

You mutter, "How generous," doing your best to smile, and watch as Hwasa snorts a small pile into one nostril and then the other. When she hands the bill to you, you take in a deep, slow breath, and let it out, then lean forward to snort from the edge of the pile first into your left nostril and then your right.

As you let the bill fall to the table and tip your head back, sniffing in again on each side, you ask, "Does Ryujin know these men?"

"Mmhmm," Hwasa hums as she fills two glasses with champagne and hands one to you. "A few of these guys worked at Paradise while I was there, and some of them are from Serendipity. Maybe you know them."

"Oh," you say, pulling the glass to your lips but stopping to ask, "How did they end up here?"

Hwasa purses her lips and tilts her head, making a show of how hard she is trying to conjure the answer to your question. Then her eyes widen and she says, "Oh! Some guy started to come around to Serendipity and just sort of gathered the rest of these guys up as, like, a posse. I don't really know what they do, to be honest, but they always dress up in matching suits and cover their faces, which is creepy as hell."

Your stomach tenses, and you feel too anxious to turn your head to the left and figure out who Ryujin is talking to. Although you know that there is absolutely no way in hell it is Christian, something about the description of the men reminds you of his men, and you begin to wonder whether there really was credence to Yoongi's worry surrounding the possibility of Christian being on this island.

"What's his name?" you ask, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. 

"Hmm?" Hwasa asks into her champagne glass as she leans closer. 

You begin to glance over to where Ryujin and the man are, but your heart pounds so hard, you worry you might be sick if you see him. 

"The man who gathered all the guys, from Serendipity, " you say, leaning closer. 

"What's his name?"

"Oh," Hwasa says, taking a slow slip of her champagne while her wide, dark eyes stare past you. She blinks owlishly, then pulls the glass from her lips and says, "He has a nickname…Insanity? Something like that."

Unable to stop yourself, your head flies to the left, searching the features of the man whose lap Ryujin has claimed with her legs. His nose is sharp and somewhat hooked, and it is not a familiar shape. Worried, you glance around the room, but there is no sign of Christian, as far as you can tell. 

"Something the matter?" Hwasa asks, touching fingertips to your arm and making you nearly drop your glass of champagne. 

You must look frantic when you turn back to her, based on the fear that pulls at her pretty features. You blink and wet your lips, shaking your head. Unconvincingly, judging by the way her brows knit and she continues to stare at you. 

"I just..." you swallow thickly and glance around the room once more, slowly scanning every face you can see. "I just thought he sounded familiar."

Hwasa makes a small sound, and you scan several more faces before returning your gaze to her and asking, "Huh?"

"It's just," she says, uncertain, "well, I heard he was previously working on Jeongguk's team, back when he was a drug runner. So…maybe he is familiar?"

Something is not adding up. Although Seokjin mentioned that he has kept Christian around to do whatever he pleases, it seems odd that he would be known to these women as someone who was once part of Jeongguk's team. As you recall from the day you were taken to the mansion, he did not seem to perform his drug-running duties to Yoongi's liking. Did Seokjin keep him on Jeongguk's team even after that day? Could he have had something to do with the group of men Jeongguk massacred with kunai knives for fucking him over?

You stare at your glass of champagne trying to make all the pieces fit, but it feels like you are missing a huge chunk of information. 

Hands touch your shoulders, causing you to jump. You mutter, "Shit," under your breath at the same time Ryujin's high, somewhat mocking laughter fills your left ear. 

"So sorry to scare you, pretty darling," she slurs, sounding quite inebriated. 

"Don't worry about it," you say, attempting to loosen your posture. Ryujin's hands remain on your shoulders and you do not want her to feel how tense you are. But then she squeezes your shoulders and you close your eyes, this time succeeding in relaxing. 

"How do you feel after such an emotional dinner?"

"Good," you respond while her thumbs circle over your muscles. You wonder whether she is the reason Hwasa always gives massages. Or perhaps it is the other way around. "And, I don't know. I guess also conflicted. Homesick."

Ryujin's hands fall away and she rests her chin on your left shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around yours and pinning yours to your sides. Hwasa busies herself pouring a third glass of champagne. 

"You really like them, hmm?" Ryujin asks. 

"Yeah," you say, possibly too quiet for how loud the music in this room is. "Most of them, anyway."

The last part is a joke. You like Seokjin and Hoseok just fine, but you are certainly not as close to them as you are to the others. Taehyung, too, for that matter, although he has had the pleasure of watching his boyfriend rail you, which has formed its own kind of bond between the two of you. 

"What is your relationship with the guys?" she asks. 

Hwasa hands her a glass, and she releases her hold on you and takes it, muttering a soft, "Thank you." 

You turn to face Ryujin. Although you still hesitate to become too close to her, you do feel comfortable in her presence, all things considered. If Yoongi is willing to trust her again, then perhaps you should be, too. 

"Yoongi, Namjoon, and I are a thing." After a pause, you add, "And…sort of Jeongguk."

Ryujin's mouth falls open and she gasps. "I need to know more!"

You feel your cheeks become hot, and you pick up your glass of champagne, which Hwasa has filled. But rather than explain, you ask something that has been on your mind for a while.

"Before, when you and Yoongi were together, was Namjoon…" Unsure how to finish the sentence, you trail off. Luckily, Ryujin knows just what you mean. 

She nods. "Yes. Romantically, those two have always been the closest. Namjoon and I were never super physical. We were just very, very comfortable around one another because of Yoongi."

Interesting. You suppose this makes sense, remembering a conversation between you and Jimin a while back when he told you about how marrying Ryujin was a means to an end more than anything else. 

"Yoongi and I were meant to bring two families together. And, don't get me wrong, we were physically and emotionally attracted to one another. But we also had more fulfilling relationships on the side. For Yoongi, it was Namjoon."

"And for you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. 

Ryujin smiles wide, but then it falls to a frown. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Nobody you know."

You nod and accept her answer. You suppose that perhaps the two of you are not that close, yet. In tandem, you and Ryujin raise your glasses to drink. But then she yells, "Oh!" and you startle enough to nearly spill your champagne onto yourself. "Jeongguk, though! What happened with him?"

You tip your head back and chug the rest of your bubbly. It is truly miserable to drink quickly, and you instantly regret your decision, feeling the carbonation sloshing around in your guts. 

"We, uh…" you begin, feeling shy. Why do you feel shy?

"You should see those two," Hwasa interjects, causing your face to heat even more. "They bicker like children but then circle one another like feral animals. I can only imagine their chemistry behind closed doors."

Affronted, your mouth falls wide. "We what? No we do not!"

Hwasa nods, grinning. "Yes, you do! I thought the two of you were fucking for sure when I first started working for Jimin. I was shocked to learn Jeongguk was with Taehyung and you were with Yoongi."

"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 

Hwasa's grin widens. 

You raise your hands to your face as if to hide. This day has been exhausting, and these two are giggling at your expense like a couple of school girls. 

"Oh, stop," Hwasa says as one of your hands is tugged down from your face. You open just the one eye, keeping the other closed tight behind your palm. "Everyone wants a piece of your ass. Don't be shy about it! Embrace it."

With a sigh, you shake your head. "Not everyone," you groan, feeling defensive.

"Everyone with eyes," Ryujin says, waggling her eyebrows while Hwasa makes kissy noises. "I would shoot my shot if you weren't already so taken."

Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"

Suddenly, it is too warm and too loud in here. "I need a stronger drink!" you declare, making both women laugh. 

You take a step back and turn, moving in autopilot toward the door before realizing you have no idea where you are nor where a bar in this building is. 

Ryujin takes your right hand and yanks you gently back, sing-songing, "Ah, ah, ah, not by yourself."

"Alright," you concede, interlocking your fingers with hers. As you begin to walk toward the exit, your left hand is engulfed and you glance to find Hwasa is coming along. 

You exit the mirrored room and turn right, taking a dark hallway about halfway and then turning right once more, through a thick black curtain that is guarded by two men on the other side. There is a bar directly to the right, and Ryujin tugs you to the counter and orders a bottle of whiskey that you do not catch the name of. 

With a nod, the bartender grabs an unopened bottle from a high shelf and then delicately stacks three medium-sized glasses. Hwasa takes the glasses, Ryujin takes the whiskey, and your hands remain held by both of theirs. 

Back in the mirrored room, you return to the table off to the right, toward the back. The girls release your hands to pour three drinks, and you fidget by pinching the satin of your skirt between your thumbs and knuckles, suddenly feeling antsy. 

"Cheers," Ryujin declares as she slides a drink in front of you. You take it, hold it up, and tap it against their glasses, then pull it to your lips and smell the strong, bittersweet liquid before taking a sip. 

The potent, boozy caramel flavor that you have come to expect is accented by a hint of something earthy, possibly wood. You take a bigger drink, hold it on your tongue, allowing your taste buds to open and fully experience the onslaught as they adjust, and then you swallow it down. 

"Tomorrow, we return to Busan," Ryujin says for the second time tonight as the whiskey flows down into your chest, filling you with warmth. You look forward to being at a proper home rather than on some random floor in a balmy, empty building. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing your home," you say, sounding far more meek than you intend to.

"I'm looking forward to hosting you."

Hwasa leans her elbows on the table and says, "You finally get to have your own room. That is, of course, unless you want to stay with me."

The playful smile on Hwasa's face, paired with her tired and intoxicated bloodshot eyes is almost enough to make you melt. Almost enough to make you follow her into any room she wants to lead you into. 

When you shrug and say, "Honestly, I may be too lonely to sleep alone," you are being brutally honest, and not all all flirtatious. 

"I can even decorate it like your room in the mansion," Ryujin says. "Is it still yellow?"

Her words halt your movement of lifting your glass back to your lips. "How did you know that?"

Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, "Please, nothing about that man has changed, down to the way he likes to outfit you. It's exactly as it was seven years ago."

Bile swirls around in your tummy, and you set the glass down on the mirrored table with a clank that is louder than you intend. Could that be true? Is Yoongi really outfitting you in the same fashion he was outfitting her all those years ago. 

Hwasa clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swats at Ryujin's arm, muttering, "Mother, don't say things like that to her," under her breath. 

You shake your head, determined to not show how strange the information makes you feel. But Ryujin turns, pouts dramatically, and wraps her arms around you. 

"Oh, sweetie, I don't mean to suggest he was trying to turn you into a second me. He just seems to have the same tastes and fashion sense, is all. Trust me, he loves you way more than he could ever love me. I can tell."

You have no idea whether Ryujin is being truthful or trying to make you feel better, but you decide that either way, you see no use in dwelling on it. You are going to be living under her roof for the foreseeable future, and becoming upset whenever she says something a little too blunt, snippy, or insensitive is not going to get you anywhere. 

With a nod, you say, "I know. Don't worry." But it only makes her squeeze you tighter. 

"Just look at his bullshit excuse for taking you home with him," she says. "Collateral, my ass."

What an odd statement. You ask, "What do you mean?" But what you really mean to say is what do you know?

"The man takes you as so-called payment from your ex but then spends millions of dollars on a wardrobe, an armored vehicle, the most lavish birthday party in all of Seoul. Make it fucking make sense!"

Ryujin releases the hug, and as soon as you are free, you slam back your whiskey and pick up the 100-dollar bill, squeezing it tighter into a tube. Ryujin whoops and claps as you lean close and snort from the edge of the cocaine pile into your left nostril and then your right. 

"Mommy needs some, too," she says as she takes the bill from your hand and leans forward. 

You tip your head back and raise a knuckle to each nostril, sniffing deeply to make sure none of the drug is stuck inside your nose cavity, then you stand up straight, stretching your back by pushing forward your chest, and reach for the bottle of whiskey. 

"Partying so hard without me?" a male voice asks from behind you, and you nearly drop the bottle. 

The tone, the accent, and the cadence all confirm your fears are true.

"Christian?" you mutter as you spin, and you almost do not believe your eyes. 

From the expression he wears and the way his gaze falls to the floor, eyes widening as they lift to your face, you wager he also cannot believe his. 

Christian steps forward and you take a step back, elbow hitting the table and causing you to grip tighter to the bottle of whiskey. 

"Barom-oppa!" Ryujin shouts as she pounces on Christian, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Hey there, dearie," he says, lifting his arms to return the hug, never taking his eyes off you. 

Christian looks somewhat normal compared to the last time you saw him, with a white and red floral button-up tucked into black slacks, and a black leather blazer. His hair has some product in it to give it a slightly messy style, falling in front of his eyes, and he wears minimal makeup. 

But there is a darkness to him. Smudges around the eyes rather than clean lines, tattoos on his throat and neck. On his left hand, he wears a black leather driving glove, and across his nose is a red scuff, as if he has been punched. Under the rich musk that fills the air around him, you sense the stale smell of cigarette smoke, and he has silver hoops in his ears and one in his left nostril. 

A lot has changed about Christian in the months since you have known him. 

Ryujin releases their hug and takes a step back, causing Christian to look down at himself and rub his hands down the front of his jacket as if her tiny body could have somehow managed to do anything to the leather. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head to the side just enough for his hair to move out from in front of his eyes, and you realize that his left eye is completely white. Is it…missing? 

"Oh my god, your eye!" you shout, lunging forward before you can stop yourself and raising your left hand toward his face while your right hand nearly drops the whiskey bottle once more. 

Christian takes your wrist in his gloved hand and holds firmly onto you, and your entire body flushes hot with nerves as you realize the mistake you have made. The way his gaze holds onto you, even with only one dark iris and pupil, is piercing and intense, and you attempt futility to pull your hand away. 

"Funny story how I lost that," he says, expression pulling into a strange, sad grin. He leans close, nicotine on his breath as he says, "I'll have to tell you some time."

You pull on your arm, desperate to release it, but his grip is far stronger than you remember. Should you be afraid of this man?

"Christian," you begin, glancing from your hand to his face. 

"Perhaps over drinks, some time," he continues. "Just the two of us."

You nod, willing to lie to him if it means letting you go. Panic rises as you continue to take stock of how different he is from the man you used to know. 

Ryujin takes the whiskey from your hand, sets it on the table, and then grabs his hand in both of hers as she says, "Alright, that is enough of that. I need you two to play nice."

The room returns to view, and you remember why you are here and who you are with. You realize belatedly that these two not only know each other but that they are friendly with one another. 

"Wait," you say, turning to Ryujin, "you told Yoongi—"

"Look, I lied to him," she says, cutting you off. 

Your mouth falls open and your pulse whooshes in your ears. "You…but…" Could she possibly know what she has done by bringing the two of you together? "Why?"

Ryujin chuckles and steps close to Christian, placing her dainty, manicured hands over his chest. "Oppa is harmless. You know that! And Yoongi…well, he's paranoid. Trust me, darling. Nothing bad will happen to you."

You are not so sure you are convinced, but you know that freaking out will do nobody any good. Especially when you are so far away from home. You are not eager to show any more weakness to any of these people. Especially the one they call Mister Insanity. 

Someone shouts for Christian, using the name Barom, and you turn quickly back to the table. Your glass contains more whiskey, courtesy of one of the women, you assume, and you pick up the glass with shaking hands and slam it down, then reach for the bottle again. 

Intoxication roils through you in hot waves, and you squeeze your eyes closed to take a deep breath in and out before shooting more whiskey. A small hand touches your lower back, and you wish you were curled up in a bed all by yourself, far away from these people and this music. You are tired of being touched.

"I know it's weird to see an ex," Ryujin says. "Sorry for surprising you like this. He told me he wouldn't be around tonight."

"How did he lose his eye?" you ask, focused on the wrong thing as you turn to face Ryujin. You tremble so hard that your teeth clatter. 

Her smile falls to a frown and she shakes her head. "That isn't my story to tell."

You nod, accepting her answer, and turn to Hwasa, who watches you with a concerned expression. You mouth the word, "Bathroom?" and she nods and rounds the table, taking you by the arm. 

"Down the hall to the left," Ryujin says. 

As you walk through the room, you squint, attempting to ignore all the movement in the mirrors in your periphery. It's too much. Everything is too much. 

The darkness of the hallway is a blessing and a curse, relieving you from the chaos of the private room while introducing challenges of its own; it is almost too dark and somewhat claustrophobic. 

You stumble and Hwasa's hold on you tightens. She picks up the pace and leads you straight into a single-stall bathroom, then turns on a light that is thankfully relatively dim. The moment she closes and locks the door, you stumble forward, fall to your knees on the rough tile before the toilet, and vomit the contents of your stomach. 

Your mind races with myriad thoughts, but one is the loudest of them all: What the fuck is Christian doing here?

*

Oh, oh, I broke down all my doors Oh, do you see it now? Nothing was fixed at all

I never asked to be like this

🎵 visit the playlist

hello, hello!!! we meet again!!! i hope you have all been having great middle of the year months! things have been ok for me but i have been reading a lot more than i have been writing. how did you feel about this one??? it is a little slower, as it is setting the stage for the final chapters. any guess how things are going to go? how do we feel about the new (and returned) characters??? it felt really nice to writing Jimin into the scene again. 💜 i'll be honest, describing Ryujin & the Mamamoo girls laying on the rugs and blankets made me think of Quanxi and her harem of fiends from Chainsaw Man.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)

i love you, stay hydrated!!! if you are somewhere with a heatwave, stay cool!!! 😘😘😘 until we meet again!!!

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[thefandomthings]

Can you please do OM! Solomon with fluff prompt 9: "I love you." "Say it again." "I love you."

I loved the fic you wrote about jealous Simeon by the way!

Say it Again

Fluff prompts: "I love you." "Say it again." "I love you."

Pairing: Solomon x Gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, established relationship, I looked up things for Solomon and it came up with the Box of Truth so that's in here.

Notes: Tysm! @eternallyanxiousandstressed, that means a lot to me, I thought I did a pretty awful job in writing him, so this makes me feel loads better! I've never really gotten into Solomon's character, game crashed when I was only about lesson 9 💀, so I apologize.

Solomon is an even bigger ass and tease than Mammon, especially when he is helping you with learning magical arts. He might tease you, but he does help you. He doesn't want anything to go wrong and you curse or injury yourself.

"MC, you flick your wrist to the left, not down." Solomon grabs your wrist and moves your hand correctly. You nod and mimic as he showed you, the wand he is having you use is rough against your palm and fingers. He is using a wand he made himself, for dramatic effect and because he is The Greatest Sorcerer. Even if he doesn't necessarily need it. (Mostly bc its funny watching things pop out from the end.)

"Can't we do something more interesting Sol?" You ask, bored out of your mind. You don't mind trying to summon a frogs, but its getting boring watching the tiny toads flop out onto the ground and then disappear into 'fairy dust'.

"What do you have in mind then?" Solomon questions, setting down his wand, leaning against the counter.

"We could try the Box of Truth again? Maybe this time we won't get stuck together?" You giggle fondly at the memory, watching a sly smile grace his lips. He pushes off the counter, walking towards you slowly. Solomon sets his slender hands under your shirt and on your hips, this thumbs drawing circles against your bare skin.

"Silly girl/boy, you don't have to trap us in a box again to tell me you love me." His voice is sultry, his satin grey eyes roaming your face, soaking in every detail like he hasn't done millions it times before.

Your face flushes, hands cradling his face. He kisses your palms lovingly, pulling you closer to him. Your hips pressed against his.

"I love you, Solomon."

He grasps your chin between forefinger and thumb, pulling your face closer to his. His lips brush over yours softly, but he doesn't give you a kiss.

"Say it again"

"I love you, Solomon."

He gives a light chuckle, his lips molding to yours. It was such a soft kiss, but heavy. Full of love, passion and desire.

"I love you too, MC"

[exrellian]

Replaced MC AU

I’m pumping this out cuz I’m motivated! Still in third person

TW: the brothers being mean, MC getting bullied-

Part Two!

Everything is Changing

Mammon was the first to fall for Amelia, then Levi, Asmo, and Beel followed quickly

Satan, Lucifer, and Belphie were… weary about the new girl, the three found it odd how quickly their brothers fell for Amelia, seemingly forgetting MC completely

“Hey Beel, Hells Kitchen has a new menu item, it looks delicious! Want to go try it together?”

“Sorry, Amelia and I are going to try it in a couple minutes”

MC shrugged it off, happy Amelia was making friends

“Mammon, I’m bored, wanna go to the casino tonight?”

“Amelia and I are going to watch some movies tonight, no can do human.”

What? MC started to feel weird about this, not really too phased by the fact that the two were hanging out, but the fact that Mammon so nonchalantly called him ‘Human’

“Asmo..? Want to go clubbing tonight?”

“Hm? Not with you, not really. Sorry!”

Oh.

What?

“Levi? Want to play Raft together? I heard a new update came out!”

“I already beat it with Amelia, it was really fun!”

“Oh? Well would you mind playing it with me?”

“Amelia used your account, so we would have to start over for you to really see the update and that would just be boring”

“Oh um… alright, I’ll just play it on my own!”

This went on for about a month before the next brother dropped

“Hey Belphie, do you still have my blanket? It’s kinda cold in my room”

“Oh, I let Amelia have it because she was cold.”

“You gave my blanket to Amelia? Why couldn’t you give her one of yours?”

“She liked yours, don’t be selfish MC, you can just go buy another.”

“Fine.”

MC left, frustrated and still cold.

It was then when the worst so far came to be.

“That will be 18 Grimm”

MC swiped his card and it… declined? That was weird, he had more than enough Grimm! He had a part time job for a while and was payed by Diavolo for hosting events at RAD too! He opened his DDD and checked his account

-143 Grimm

What!?

He puts his DDD away and pays out of pocket for the blanket before returning home in a rush and going to his and Amelia’s room. Luckily for him, Amelia wasn’t there. Grabbing his laptop and checking his bank account he sees a bunch of online purchases on various video games. He slams his computer shut and runs to Leviathans room to see Amelia and Levi playing some random gacha game.

“Are you on my account Amelia?” He tried to keep his voice low and calm but he was shaking

“Oh! I’m sorry MC, Levi said I could!”

“Did you buy anything?”

“Well yeah! I didn’t like your account so I reset it so I could get the characters I wanted! Levi said his card was attached so I could spend as much as I wanted! Wasn’t that so nice of him?”

MC was writhing

“MY card was attached to that! You drained my account completely!”

Amelia looked almost… happy?

“It was your card attached? Sorry MC” leviathans tone was disingenuous and annoyed

“Since it was meant to be your money can you just pay me back for what she spent? I was saving up for something!”

“I’m not giving you my money MC, you need to stop being so selfish. Get out of my room.”

“No! Amelia spent all my money thinking it was yours so clearly you have the money to reimburse me!”

Levi stood up and walked over to MC

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you are not the person I fell in love with. You are almost more selfish and self centered than Mammon. First you go bullying Amelia, then you think I have to give you money for a little mistake. Leave my room MC, I don’t want to see you.” The hatred in Leviathans eyes struck a fear into MC that he hasn’t felt since he first arrived in the Devildom, weighing his options, he left, deciding it would be in his best interest to talk to Lucifer about it. He arrived at Lucifer’s study to find it empty, he then checked his room, finding it also empty

MC [Hey Lucifer, are you home?]

Lucifer [I am in a meeting. If you need to talk meet me in my study tomorrow.]

MC [K.]

Tomorrow could not come sooner

[longbobmckenzie]

Things I'd do...

... if I were a Fusebox writer. Fusebox, if you're reading this, feel free to take these into consideration. I know you won't though because it would require more work on your part.

(note: this ended up being a lot longer than I expected, but I probably should have expected that)

5 girls, 5 boys

Let's go back to the early seasons when we started off with a full lineup of 5 couples to start off with. Like I said, this means more work, more characters. But it also allows for...

More unromanceable characters

Hear me out. The last truly unromanceable male character was... Toby? I think? But for the most part, all the male characters from S6-S9 are available in some way (even if it's only at the finale/reunion, which is really just a copout from FB because they don't want to branch routes but still want to be able to say that everyone's romanceable).

Here's the thing. Everyone wants to romance their favourite characters, nobody wants to meet a character and really love them only to find out you can't have them. Trust me, I've been there. But it's also not the end of the world, and it means you can read/write fanfics for that character, pine for them from afar, etc etc. Maybe it's my sadism talking, but it kind of makes things more interesting in a way? To me it's kinda boring to have all these guys in the villa who would get with me at the drop of a hat (obviously excepting the slow burn LIs).

But the thing about unromanceable characters is that you NEED them in order to write a realistic season with distinct characters who aren't just interchangeable with one another based on MC's choices. Those characters can help drive the plot, they can have canon storylines, they can be friends, they don't have to share dialogue, etc etc.

First coupling

So with those first 2 points out of the way, here's what I'd like for the first coupling:

Of the 5 guys, 1 is completely unavailable to be chosen, and another is not an endgame LI. Think Noah and Rocco in S2 - one can't be coupled up with but is still a slow burn LI, the other CAN be coupled up with but is always going to be dumped. I think this formula from S2 works so well because it still means you have 3 OG guys to be endgame LIs but also allows for the other 2 to be part of fixed plots.

I want the boys to choose instead of the girls. HOW HAS THIS NOT BEEN DONE YET?!?!?! On the show, the girls only picked on day 1 for the first... 1 or 2 seasons? and then it was always boys choosing until they started messing around with other options. But this could work SO WELL for the game! MC has the choice for each guy to step forward or not. If she steps forward for the unromanceable guy, he picks someone else. If she doesn't step forward for someone, he won't pick her. If she steps forward, gets picked, and then steps forward again for someone else, that person steals her and it gets acknowledged throughout the game a bit (minor branching!) If she doesn't step forward for anyone, she ends up being the last picked. IT WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN

Couples/Sneaking around

You shouldn't be able to do bits with someone you're not coupled up with except under certain circumstances:

Casa Amor

You're developing a relationship with someone but not able to couple up with them (or one of you gets stolen) and you're upfront with your partners about going to the daybeds together

You're sneaking around behind people's backs but there WILL be consequences

Just honour the couples, that's the point of the game. Stop letting people go to the hideaway with people they're not coupled up with.

Consequences/Drama

Further to the above, there should be consequences for BOTH parties if you sleep with someone you're not coupled up with. Even if you go to the daybeds and your partners know about it, they should be able to say how disrespectful that is to them.

Sneaky kisses always have a way of coming out on the show, so the same thing should be done in the game. It's harder to branch because some players may choose not to kiss anyway, so those people shouldn't be attacked for something they haven't done. But if you kiss someone and your partner finds out and breaks up with you because of it? And the partner of the person you kissed also dumps them? That would be fun!

Female villains

Just stop with the whole thing where one girl constantly gets up in MC's face. Whether it's because the girl is gunning for the same guy or for other reasons, it's so tired and annoying. Or a girl being a bitch for absolutely no reason.

And especially stop making them WOC!

More filler scenes

This has been one of the big complaints over the last few seasons, and that's the lack of filler scenes. There needs to be a balance, obviously, because you don't want too much filler - but this is how we learn about the characters' personalities. Let us be involved in fun chats, give our MC a personality other than "everyone loves me except that one bitch who hates me for no apparent reason," let us chill with the other islanders instead of constantly being involved in drama, eavesdropping on conversations, investigating who slept with who, and doing a million challenges

(Slightly) Longer season

Season 2 is the only deviation from the typical 13-14 "day" season (S1 is technically 7 weeks squeezed into 14 days, later seasons use volumes instead of sticking to a morning/afternoon/evening format but they fit so much into them that they just feel chaotic). Adding a little filler and stretching the seasons out a bit (5-7 volumes seems reasonable?) should make them more enjoyable to play (and replay?)

Cliffhangers

I love cliffhangers (insert joke about all the LIs I like who do rock climbing), but not every episode/volume needs one. It's perfectly fine to find a natural ending to an episode (like going to bed at the end of the night, which was common in S2), and save the cliffhangers for when they really matter

Make the challenges make sense

I didn't play S8 and I'm not playing S9, but I've heard some complaints about the order of challenges - playing Mr & Mrs in Casa Amor, etc. And I saw that today's volume included the Excess Baggage challenge, which is fine, but that one should always be near the beginning

Have the 'get to know people' challenges (kissing challenges, truth/dare, never have I ever) in the first few volumes. Once people are coupled up and relationships are developing, hit 'em with the snogathon to maybe create some drama (and do it when new bombshells have just come in so you get a chance to kiss the new guy). After Casa Amor, you can do Mr & Mrs, any other couple compatibility challenges (or do one of these just before Casa Amor to create some drama just before splitting up the couples), and of course Snog, Marry, Pie.

Have a few of the random obstacle course challenges, food challenges, building tents/sandcastles/whatever challenges interspersed throughout, but make them mean something.

And for the love of donuts, make the challenges in Raunchy Races objective - none of this 'coolest person' or 'hottest person' or whatever, just stick to tallest/shortest/oldest/etc or 'one person must snog the person they fancy the most' or whatever like in S2

Casa Amor

I think CA is a great plot device, but there's a fine line between 'too long' and 'not long enough' that's hard to figure out. But either way, let's stop with the hideaway and sending couples on dates, because nobody's coupled up in CA. Give everyone a chance to get to know everyone. Have a couple guys who aren't interested in MC. If MC is wlw, give some scenes with her LI where they can talk about the future and wanting to couple up when they have a chance, etc.

WLW Routes

I don't do WLW routes in the game so I don't know exactly what the experience is like, but I know that it's not great - carrying on a romance with someone with no consequences but also not being able to couple up with them and sometimes watching them also be carrying on a relationship with whoever they're coupled up with.

I don't have any brilliant solutions, but why not spend every night on the daybeds together until being able to couple up? Why not have two guys who couple up together on these routes, like in S3? Or bring in another character like Sammi in S1 to even out the couples? Or an NB/bisexual character who could couple up with a girl or guy depending on what MC does?

Ultimately, the show and the game are extremely straight-coded, and it's not easy to account for players being able to couple up with female LIs early on, but every option should be explored instead of just doing what they're doing every season.

[luvtak]

birthday blues, psh

☆ pairing fratboy!sunghoon x reader

☆ genre/tw fluffy fluff fluff, a twinge of angst, sunghoon has a case of the birthday blues :(( i wrote the mc to be quite introverted, hand holding lmao, cheek kisses! a little miscommunication, a very sweet and soft getting together fic <33

☆ w/c 1705

☆ a/n happy holidays!! i began this fic on sunghoons birthday but because i am terrible at planning anything i just finished tonight lol, so heres a little present from me!! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

With the bad music and the smell of cheap beer, you find yourself regretting walking through the door. The house is bustling with conversation and rhythmless dancing–not a sweater in sight despite the frigid air outside. Not one person you know or like is occupying the four walls around you, and even worse, your drink is weak. 

The melting ice is enough to kick start a negotiation with yourself, you’ll leave after this drink… tell Sunghoon happy birthday, and then we’re gone. You’re not sure why you even bothered… you’ve been on three dates with the boy and barely kissed twice. While he’s handsome and funny, you don’t know if that's enough to endure another mindless frat party while your roommates are cozying up at home watching the new season of Love is Blind. 

While initially you held some reservations about going on another date with a frat boy, Sunghoon proved himself to be very sweet.

 The first date was nice, dinner and a movie (action which was ironically very boring) and a chaste cheek kiss that kept you up way past your desired Tuesday bedtime. His lips were soft and his eyes were kind–a sort of unfamiliar shy glimmer staring down at you. He was ever the gentleman, opening doors and making sure to tell you how pretty you looked… He was perfect. Which was odd for a guy who spent all his time with boys who carried a carousel of girls around. 

The second date was quick but sweet, a speedy lunch in between classes, leaving a smile on your face until you got home that night. He had asked about you the whole time, wanting to know how your day was, and if you had had a good time when you went out before. And finally, the third, wherein the very pretty boy asked you to come to his birthday party before placing a swift kiss upon your lips. 

It was almost like you were possessed. Feeling a great urge to be there to celebrate with him–very unlike the person you claim to be, but he asked so sweetly. His fanged smile was large and on display, and he had a look in his warm eyes that reminded you too much of an overloved puppy. Too much time with those eyes and you were agreeing before he could say please. 

Now, you wished you had the gift of prophecy. If you knew you wouldn’t see the boy once since walking through the doors 45 minutes ago you never would have said you’d come. Of course, it’s his birthday and you’re sure he’s busy being shuffled along friends and pretty girls who’ve long since held his favor, but he asked you to come and if you have to spend another minute listening to mindless chatter you might never speak to him again–no matter how much you like his company.

The boys next to you are crass and the girls much more indulgent than you feel prepared for. Enabling their counterparts with enough alcohol and shitty pick up lines to put you out for the whole year. And while listening in to others' conversations isn’t the nicest thing to do, the loud groanings of, “Hey, pretty lady…you’re heating up this whole place.” were just too nauseating to ignore. 

While slurred words are always swoonworthy, it may be time to head out. 

It is barely eleven, but you’re ready to go–ego bruised and brain ready to rest with some mind numbing television. Not too mention, phone long dead from too many tiktoks watched to pass the time. You can’t believe he didn’t even make an effort to say hello. You made it clear you didn’t like this sort of thing–would rather spend a Friday night away from the hubbub and cheer of a college party that lost its charm the spring of your freshman year. 

Whatever, if he didn’t care you’re just glad he showed his true colors sooner rather than later. While it sucks,  it’s no use crying over another too pretty boy. 

Peeling yourself from the back corner, you find yourself jostled this way and that until your skin meets the chilly December air. A momentary shock of relief rings through your gut, finally away from the rotten place a younger you loved, and an older you was over. 

The night for all its misadventures did end up being a pretty one; stars barely peeking through the light covered city and shining down on the car packed street. Straining your neck to see them for just a minute before making your way to your car, you eye a startling figure sitting on the frat house’s roof. 

A boy with a curious resemblance to Sunghoon, but why would the birthday boy be out here instead of at his own party? His hair is mussed and though he is far up, it’s easy to see the messy state of his clothes–sweatpants and a sweater one could only describe as something a grandfather would wear. 

“Sunghoon? What are you doing up there?” it's too far, but you think you can see the little lift of his lips, a look of relief gracing his features. 

“What do you mean? I’m waiting for you, didn’t you get my message?” His voice, while covered by the echoing party and the nighttime sounds, still carries over the expanse of the front yard as if he was in front of you–as confused as it was, it does little to ease the annoyance of before. 

“What are you talking about Park? I’ve been here for an hour and haven’t gotten anything from you.” 

“Oh I’m Park now? But it’s my birthday.” betrayed by your own temper, you can’t help but let your teeth show. His ever composed countenance running away as he whines his words. 

Maybe it’s dramatic and maybe he did send you a message, but the bitter pain of feeling ignored won’t go away just because he’s cute. 

Even if he is really really cute. 

“How am I supposed to know if you really did send me a message and aren’t just saying that now that you’ve been caught?” 

“Come on now, Silly, charge your phone.” he’s grinning now, tongue running along the points of his left canine. “I’d invite you up, but it looks like you may just push me off.” 

“Why are you up there anyway? There's a bunch of people in there waiting for the birthday boy.” 

It could be your imagination, or a trick of the shadows, but it’s almost like that one word made his whole body falter. Straight shoulders falling below his ears and long eyelashes hitting the peaks of his cheekbones. Eyes closed and figure sad. 

From a young age you’ve been rather curious; looking through hidden presents and asking too personal questions to the people around you, but you don’t think you’ve ever been more interested than now. Looking at this handsome boy–too early to love, but too late to ignore–sitting alone on his birthday is enough to make you pause. 

“Sunghoon? Are you okay? I won’t push you off if you help me up.” 

While he doesn’t answer your question, he does reach out a hand to show you the way. Laughing loudly when you stumble through the tree branches, and quick jabs at your obvious roof climbing inexperience. It’s only when you’ve safely landed next to him that you can really see the slightly blue expression on his face. Of course he’s smiling–you don’t think he’s ever looked at you without one, but there's something invading his form. An ever present dusk sitting along his spine. 

The both of you sit in silence for a long time, looking out at the street and laughing at the party goers retreating through the yard. Young men and women stumbling and giggling their way through another weekend. It’s only when the music changes from obnoxiously loud electronica to obnoxiously loud rap does he speak. 

“I’ve never really liked today, you know? I get so excited for it to come, thinking it's gonna be a magical day that changes everything. Then I wake up and it’s just another boring day. I guess I haven’t learned how to deal with the disappointment, 

I’m sorry you were in there alone, I– I wish I knew you went inside. I was hoping I’d catch you going in and bring you up here. I thought maybe if I spent it with you, it could be life changing. Exciting enough to be worth another year.” 

How interesting birthdays are, to be so momentous and yet so disenchanting. You wait 365 days for a moment to pass, another year older with no magic in sight. Although you can’t ignore that he believed you to be life changing. How sweet, to think after only three dates he’s already decided that you’re who he wants to spend his day with. Face warming and hands shaking, you’re able to let out a soft laugh, before finally answering, 

“Well, maybe we should just treat it like any other day. No cake or presents, I won’t even wish you a happy birthday." It's strange how this seemingly mean sentiment lights up his face: brown eyes becoming crescent moons, a goofy grin settling along his mouth. A look worthy of a birthday. 

“What should we do instead?” 

“Hmm, if you come with me right now we might be able to see the rest of Love is Blind with my roommates. Kazuha and Intak swore they wouldn’t watch the weddings without me… Only if you want to.” 

And the way you looked at him with wide eyes and a hopeful smile, how could he say no. How could he tell you that all day he wished he could spend it with you.

He helps you down and keeps your hand in his as you begin the trek back to your apartment. The night is cold, but his figure next to yours heats you right up–brightening the walk back to your apartment, and making you thank whatever power made you stop to look at the stars, never knowing the tall boy was wishing on every birthday cupcake that you’d join him on the roof and change his life.

© LUVTAK

[shira-cosmic-star]

Thoughts for Pennies pt 11

This a sad thought I got. All of the ghouls are suffering from something in their lives. I’ve talked about Ritsu on post and now I’m going to talk about Jin.

Jin loves his mom so much. He planted her favorite flowers on his balcony. He waters them and looks at them pretty often. He tells Mc that it’s his mother’s favorite. It really shows how deep their son’s and mother bond is. I can only imagine why he doesn’t like his father and how much his mother really meant to him.

What if his father is a sleazy type of man, who sleeps with other women? Or was abusive in someways? Or maybe his father wasn’t there often for the both of them and his mother was a stay at home mom and took care of Jin?

Jin’s mother died due to some type of illness. It was said to be a psychological illness. We don’t know what illness it is. It very much could be more than one too. It could’ve been depression, which all mental disorders can be genetic/inherited.

Which explains why Jin is easily irritated, “lazy,” has an addiction to smoking, sleeps a lot, feels unmotivated and isolates himself from others. Jin hasn’t met anyone who is willing to build a real genuine connection with him. His “best friend,” turned on him too. People around him in his dorm likes him for his money, status and looks. He doesn’t even know if he can fully trust Tohma.

Then Mc enters into his world, and little by little. Mc is slowly chipping that ice around his heart. He hates the fact that Mc is walking on eggshells around him. But he opens up little by little about the flowers that are his mother’s favorite. He helps her in Vagastrom’s dorm. He saves Mc, Luca and Kaito on the mission. He even sends the cruise for Mc and Jabberwock. Heck, even though he used Mc to set his dorm back in order. He buys them three dress with accessories and shoes to go with it. All for the party and he chose them to dance with.

Mc was the only one he danced with, mainly because Mc is the only one he felt comfortable dance with. Mc never asked for money, never tried push him or anything, never tried to seduce him (which I imagine so many girls from his dorm tried to), never forced him to talk about his life. Sure they were curious about some things about his life, but when he tells them to end the topic. They do.

Jin even trust them to do some of the tasks he tells them to do. Clean his room, telling the chief what to cook, getting Tohma, wash his clothes, send them to the dry cleaners and the list goes on. Maybe it’s because his mother was this nurturing woman that some of the qualities, Mc has shown towards him?

There’s a reason why he allows Mc to hang around him. He isn’t the type to use someone and throw them away when he’s bored. Besides out of all the women and men in his dorm. He chose the most basic and none problematic person to assist him even though he can literally tell Tohma or anyone to do it. Yet, he trust Mc.

(Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to cry because Jin is one of my favorites. I’m too sensitive for this😭)

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days

Xavier x MC (unnamed) This is the first chapter of eventually 21 chapters. One new trope in every chapter. Summary: What exactly did Xavier and MC do for the 21 days they were on their undercover mission? Well, they fell in love, of course. Not that they weren't already.

Prologue

The undercover mission that's currently posted on the Hunter's Association task board is not a job that anyone particularly wants to do. It has been open for weeks and everyone seems to be pointedly ignoring its existence even as it rises in priority. The payout has nearly tripled since it was posted, but it still is not enough to tempt you into touching that thing with a 10-foot pole. Undercover stakeout missions were long and boring, and you weren't exactly excited about the idea of being away from home for that long. It just seemed like the worst of all possible worlds: no real action, lots of aimless waiting, and none of the satisfaction of kicking ass. The first and last stakeout you ever signed up for was a few months ago, and all you had really gained from that experience was five extra pounds from eating your feelings and a pat on the back for extensive note taking.

At this point, you are basically blind to the listing as you scroll through the open investigations for the day, until your eyes happen to catch on the participant counter: 1 of 2. Curiosity gets the best of you - who would willingly sign up for this thing - and you absently tap the listing on your phone.

Undercover Mission - Linkon Suburbs

- Minimum 2 Hunters - 3 months on-site, 24/7 monitoring - Priority: HIGH - Participants: 1 of 2 - Status: Open - Payout: 200,000 credits per hunter - Requirements: - Must be willing to live on-site for up to 3 months - Must be willing to cohabitate - Minimum 1 Alpha Team hunter - High level of discretion and attention to detail - Participants: - Xavier (Alpha Team)

You nearly drop your phone in surprise as the name is displayed as clear as day: Xavier. He signed up without telling you. It's not as if the two of you are particularly close, but you had started spending more time together recently after finding out that you are neighbors. His omission stings more than you'd care to admit.

The mission isn't slated to start until the end of the week. There's a chance he just didn't get around to mentioning it. You try to think of the reason why he might not have brought it up, but you can't come up with one, and it drives you crazy. If he didn't tell you, you think to yourself, then maybe it's because he didn't want you to take it as an invitation to join him. But that's ridiculous, isn't it? The two of you make a great team. You're partners. It would be weird for him to go on this mission with anyone else, right?

Unease unfurls in your gut as you think of Xavier not only being gone for three months, but being gone for three months and living with someone who isn't you. You know rationally that you do not have any sort of claim to him, but the idea of him being so far away and out of reach makes you feel sick. He's always been there for you when you really need him. And what if he likes this other hunter more than you? What if the two of them make a better team? What if it's a girl? God, what if it's a pretty girl? What if he abandons you completely?

You're being crazy, you tell yourself, because there is no way that Xavier would be that cold. He's your friend, and you're pretty sure he's fond of you, in his own aloof way. You're sure of it. The same way you’re sure that you’d drop dead before you let anyone go on this mission with him but you.

The phone is already ringing before you have time to second guess yourself.

"Hello?" Xavier answers in his typical sleepy monotone. "What's up?"

"You're taking the undercover mission, Xav?" You blurt out immediately, not even bothering with pleasantries.

Xavier is silent for a long moment, and your mind works quickly to fill in the pause. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe he got auto-assigned to the mission due to the urgency and doesn't even know about it yet. He would have told you otherwise.

"Yeah, I was going to tell you," he says slowly, "I guess I forgot."

You exhale the breath you were holding and try to temper the disappointment you feel. He had forgotten to tell you. It's true that he was forgetful and his mind always seemed like it was somewhere else. But you had thought that you were important enough now for him to remember.

"Why didn't you sign up to join me?" he asks.

Oh.

"Wait... what?" you sputter.

"I thought you would sign up once you saw that I was on the mission. You haven't yet. I was hoping you would come with me."

He had been expecting you to join him the entire time. A warm feeling blooms in your chest at the sound of the slight pout in his voice. He had been waiting for you. He wanted you. At least in some capacity.

"Oh," you finally manage to say, "Oh, yeah, I was planning to sign up, I was just calling to make sure you were okay with me joining you."

Xavier chuckles softly on the other end of the line. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason," you reply, feeling a little bit embarrassed, but also a little bit relieved, "I'll assign myself now. Looks like you're stuck with me."

Xavier laughs a bit again, and his voice takes on that low tone that makes your heart race, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your face heats at his almost-compliment, and you can't help but smile. You never know quite what to make of Xavier's offhandedly sweet comments. You are sure that he doesn't even realize the effect that they have on you. That's just how he is - distant but sweet. Easy to like, but hard to get to know.

"Me, too," You agree after a moment, "I guess I'll see you later today with Jenna for the briefing?"

"You got it, partner. See you there." Xavier says with a smile in his voice.

"See you there," you echo, and hang up. You stare at the phone in your hand for a long moment before remembering that you had been on the Association's app in the first place. You assign yourself to the request quickly, as if someone else might beat you to it.

The listing status changes from "Open" to "Full" and you feel a sense of relief mixed with dread. Three months. It's a long time. You're not really sure you want to be away for that long. Dr. Zayne will have a conniption if you miss your monthly appointments, you can never quite sleep well in any bed that isn’t your own, and there are not enough books in the world to keep you entertained for that long. But then you remember the happiness in Xavier's voice and the way he said he said he wanted you there. He wants you there. And that, somehow, is enough to make the rest of it not matter.

You walk into Jenna's office a few hours later to find Xavier already there. He is nodding off in his seat as Jenna rifles through papers on her desk.

"Hey, mister." You say to him, nudging him in the shoulder as you take the open chair beside him. He startles awake and smiles when he sees you.

"Hey," he says quietly, “it’s you.”

"Finally," Jenna chimes in, not looking up from the papers. "Now we can start. This mission is hot and we need to get a move on it pronto. You guys are gonna have to move fast. We've already got your aliases, an apartment, and your backstory set up. You'll be acting as a married couple - the Shen's."

Jenna drops a huge binder onto the table in front of you. "You will be the adoring, newlywed wife to Mr. Shen here," Jenna slides a similar binder to Xavier from across the table, "And Xavier will be playing the part of the tortured author suffering from writer's block. You're vacationing in the countryside to find inspiration for your next best-selling novel, Mr. Shen." She flashes Xavier a smile, and you can tell from her eyes that she's making fun of him a bit.

Xavier simply shrugs, seeming not to mind at all.

"You'll need to be on-site as much as possible to gather intel, but make it look real. Don't stay holed up in the house all day. We've taken care of the rent for the next few months, and you can expense anything you need during your stay, within reason," Jenna emphasizes.

You reach into your bag and pull out a notebook and a pen, and begin to take notes. You flip through the pages of the binder and try to take in as much information as you possibly can, because you're sure that Xavier is not going to. You are to play the part of a young couple who have recently moved to the neighborhood from the city. You are the doting, affectionate wife to a brooding author. Your husband is distant and aloof. This isn't exactly going to take a lot of acting skills.

"That about covers it. You can find the specifics of the mission and persons of interest in your binders. I expect weekly check-ins, but notify me immediately if you find a lead we can follow. Got it?" Jenna finishes.

Xavier nods and yawns while listening. He is leaning back in the chair, looking as bored and sleepy as always. His long legs are stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

You nod, too, and close the notebook. You shove it into your bag and stand to leave, reaching out to take Xavier's hand to pull him to his feet.

"We're on the case, boss," you say to Jenna, who smiles and gives you an encouraging thumbs up. You drag Xavier from the office with you, still holding onto his hand as you walk down the hallway and out into the crisp Autumn evening.

You expect Xavier to drop your hand as you exit the building, but he doesn't seem to mind. His fingers curl more securely around your own as you walk in companionable silence for several minutes.

"You okay with all this, Xav?" you ask, breaking the silence.

He looks down at you and shrugs. "Yeah. Why not? It's just another mission."

"I dunno," you counter, "It's pretty different from killing wanderers. I mean, we're gonna have to pretend to be married and stuff. It's kinda weird, huh?"

"It's not that weird," he answers easily without offering any other thoughts. You glance up at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks tired, but his expression is unreadable otherwise.

"Do you think you can handle pretending to be married to me for three whole months?" You joke playfully.

"I think so, Mrs. Shen," he answers with a nod and a slight squeeze of your hand.

Day 1

The next few days pass quickly and before you know it you're standing in front of a white duplex in the suburbs of Linkon City. The house is small and old, but looks cozy from the outside. According to your mission binders, this is the latest residence of a contact person responsible for certain underground businesses in Linkon.

The landlady, who looks somewhere between 80 and 105-years-old, wastes no time in showing you and Xavier around the cramped apartment. She begins to rattle off details about the place after you exchange a few pleasantries. You're only half-listening to her ramble, but trying to nod along politely anyway. You're more nervous than you expected to be. You're many things, but a good liar is not one of them.

"What a lovely couple the two of you make. So young and in love. How exactly did the two of you meet?" She asks, looking you both over with critical interest.

"I met her when we were at school. I was the one who made the first move." Xavier says smoothly, as if he's genuinely recalling the memory.

When her attention turns to you, you babble out quickly, "We're in a good relationship, our incomes are stable. We graduated from University. Our credit scores are flawless."

Xavier leans fractionally closer to you and slips his arm around your waist. You're not sure if it's supposed to be comforting or if he's just acting, but it works. The anxiety buzzing through your veins quiets as you feel him rub his thumb in small circles against your hip.

The landlady's expression softens slightly and she admits, "I normally prohibit young people from renting, but you two don't look suspicious. I'll make an exception this time. You have three months paid in advance, but don't forget you also need to water the lawn once a week and prune the flowers in the backyard."

Xavier opens his mouth to speak, but the landlady drones onward, "You're not allowed to use the vacuum cleaner after 7:00PM, have parties, or own pets. You also can't..."

You tune out as she continues to list off rules. The feel of Xavier's hand on your hip is distracting, and so is the warm, clean scent that's coming off of him. Has he always smelled like that? It takes all of your self control to keep from leaning in closer to sniff him. You're sure that he's never worn cologne before. You'd have noticed. Maybe he wore it to make a good first impression, you think. He did dress up today in those khaki slacks and white button down shirt. He's handsome, you realize, though you already knew that. But much more handsome than usual today. He looks so...

You're jolted from your ogling by the sound of his voice, and you quickly tear your eyes away from him to look at the landlady.

"You're very kind," Xavier says to her, tightening his grip on your waist.

"Here is your key," the landlady says, handing it to Xavier, "Enjoy your stay."

She shuffles off and leaves the two of you alone in the living room. Xavier releases his hold on your waist immediately and begins to unpack. You watch him curiously for a moment. You'd have never guessed he was such a good actor. That's what he was doing, after all, when he wrapped his arm around your waist - acting.

"...Did you write down all of those rules she mentioned?" You ask, trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions you know you shouldn't even be feeling.

Xavier flips through the contract on the table. The last few pages are densely packed with "prohibited things." He scans through them while humming faintly.

"Doesn't say anything about us not being allowed to go undercover, so I think we're good," he jokes, the edges of his lips tilting up in a half smile.

You can't help but return his smile, despite how nervous you feel. You turn to your boxes and begin unpacking with him in silence. The longer you unpack, the more you realize that you have never seen some of these items before. Did the Hunter Association plant these? There are framed photos of you and Xavier together. You are holding hands in a park and smiling happily at the camera in one. Xavier is kissing your forehead as you stand in front of an ice cream truck in the other.

"Where did they get these?" you ask him curiously.

"Hmm?" He asks, turning toward you to see what you're holding. He glances over the photos and shrugs. "Must be some sort of advanced editing software, I guess," he says, and returns to his boxes.

You stare at the pictures for a little while longer before putting them aside. The two of you look good together - happy.

There's a door down the hall that looks most like a bedroom, and you grab your luggage and wheel it toward the room. Upon entering, you aren't surprised that your guess was correct, but you are surprised to find that there's only one bed in the room. It's a large, king-sized bed that can easily accommodate two people. But a blush still rises to your cheeks and deepens further as you hear Xavier enter the room behind you.

"There's only one bed," you say somewhat dumbly, looking between it and Xavier.

He nods in agreement and gives you an apologetic smile. "There is, yeah. We are married after all, dear."

It takes a second for his words to register in your brain, but when it does your face heats up further. Of course there would only be one bed; we are supposed to be madly-in-love newlyweds. Despite the three days you had to plan for this trip, it hadn't ever occurred to you what the sleeping arrangements might be like.

"Oh, yeah, right. That makes sense,” you say to yourself more so than to him.

"I'll take the couch," Xavier offers easily, seemingly immune to the greatest romance trope of all time.

You mull over the idea. At this point in your partnership, it seems a bit silly to be picky about sleeping near each other. The two of you have nearly died together countless times, and the bed is pretty big. You know he'd never try anything anyway; you aren't even sure if he has those kinds of desires.

"No," You say, shaking your head, "We're going to be here for months. We might as well just share it. It's a big bed. I promise I won't steal all of the blankets if you promise not to snore."

Xavier chuckles and nods, "You've got a deal."

He unzips his suitcase and begins to unpack his clothes. You join him and start unpacking your own, hanging them beside his in the small closet. It's all so domestic and familiar, you can't help but think. It's almost like we're actually a couple.

You push the thought to the back of your mind and focus instead on finishing the task at hand. The bedroom, while small, is cozy like the rest of the apartment. The walls are painted a warm beige color and the hardwood floor is a rich brown. The furniture is simple and functional, and a vase with fresh flowers rests on the bedside table. The window overlooks the street, and the sun has nearly set in the distance.

The two of you move through the small apartment chatting idly now and then as you both continue to settle in. Xavier is quiet, but relaxed, and his easy confidence makes you feel more comfortable. As you enter the bedroom to change into your pajamas, you notice the framed photograph of you and Xavier prominently displayed on the bedside table. He must have put it there at some point. It's the one of him kissing you on the forehead, and you feel your heart give a strange lurch at the sight of it. You're not sure if it's the image of him being affectionate, or the thought of him placing it there that has you smiling.

You change into your pajamas, black shorts and a tank top, and eye the bed. Are you supposed to announce you are going to bed? Wait up for him? What is the etiquette for this fake marriage? You deliberate for a few moments longer before cursing yourself and climbing into the bed with a huff. This is normal. This isn't weird. You will just lay in bed and scroll on your phone like any other night until you fall asleep. You are an adult, damn it. You can handle this.

You pull the blankets over your legs and lay back on the pillows, pulling your phone out to check your messages. There are half a dozen messages from Rafayel about jellyfish walking naked, and one from Jenna asking how the mission is going. You send her a quick update to let her know that the two of you have gotten settled in.

Around 30 minutes later, you hear the sound of Xavier's feet padding toward the bedroom. You panic as the door starts to open and, for some reason completely unbeknownst to you, pretend to be fast asleep.

You can hear him moving around in the dark room, but you keep your breathing slow and steady. You're not sure what you're playing at or why. This had seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago. But now that he is in the room, it feels more than a little foolish. What are you going to do? Are you really just going to pretend to be asleep? 

Laughter begins to bubble up in your chest and you ruthlessly tamp it down. This is ridiculous. You cautiously squint one eye open and catch sight of him from under your lashes. You watch as he strips his white shirt off and throws it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. Your breath catches in your throat. You've seen him shirtless before. It should not have an effect on you. And yet here you are, your traitorous body responding as if you’ve never seen a man undress before.

He's lean and muscular and his ash-blonde hair falls messily around his face in the dim light. You watch him pull on a gray t-shirt, and you're not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that you can no longer see his toned back. He catches your eyes as he turns to face the bed, and you close them immediately and will your body to be still. The weight of his gaze lingers on you and the urge to giggle becomes overwhelming. You try to hold your breath, but it comes out in a quiet snort anyway. Maybe he will think that was a snore?

"You're so obvious," he says, and, even though you cannot see his smile, you can hear it.

His voice breaks the tenuous hold you had on your willpower, and you burst into laughter.

"Did you know the whole time?" You gasp out between giggles.

Xavier chuckles and slides under the covers on the opposite side of the bed, settling in comfortably. "Yeah. You're a terrible liar. It's a good thing you became a hunter and not an actress."

You laugh again and turn onto your side to look at him. "I'm sorry, I kind of panicked. Is there etiquette for fake marriages we should try to follow? Rules? Guidelines?"

Xavier rolls on his side to face you, only a few feet away from you on the bed. "I guess it depends. What kind of fake marriage would you like us to have?"

You roll your eyes at his question, but soon begin rattling off standard things you think a married couple would want, "Well, for starters, when I go out, I want you to say, 'Come back soon' and 'stay safe'. When I return, I want you to greet me with a hug and say 'Welcome home' and 'Would you like anything to eat?'"

He smiles at you with those soft, blue eyes of his, and hums thoughtfully as he relaxes back into the pillows. "I can do that," he agrees in a sleepy voice.

"Is there anything you want?" You prod, curious about what things he thinks would make a good fake marriage.

Xavier's eyes close and he's silent for a long moment. You wonder if he’s actually fallen asleep until he finally murmurs, "No, not really. Just you."

You stare at him in silence as your mind tries to process his statement. You know he didn't mean it to sound like... well, that. He's just tired and not really thinking clearly. But still, you can't help the fluttering of your heart and the way it seems to beat faster.

Xavier stretches his arm across the bed and brushes his fingers against yours. Not quite holding hands, but touching. Contact. It  somehow feels sweeter and more wholesome than if he had just grabbed your hand.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Shen," he mumbles quietly.

"Goodnight, Mr. Shen," You reply softly.

You don't have the energy or desire to second guess and over analyze this. The comfort of the moment holds you, and within a few minutes you drift into an easy sleep.

[animasola86]

Mine!

Notes: This works as a stand-alone one-shot, but it's technically a continuation of It belongs to me (which is a continuation of The Horny Ghost). Enjoy!

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc

Genre: Smut

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Possessive!Seb. Bathtub sex. More sex. Oral sex. Facesitting.

Word count: 6.5k

Synopsis: Sebastian's girlfriend is a bit of a nymphomaniac. And he is not complaining. Or is he?

Warning: There is smut under the cut aka horny teenagers having sex! Read at your own risk!

-- can be read on AO3 too --

Mine

Sebastian couldn't believe his eyes. There she was, floating on her stomach in the large basin of the Prefects' Bathroom, her perfectly plump arse cheeks breaking through the water surface as if they were taunting him as she splashed about completely oblivious to his presence.

It wasn't the sight of her naked body that enraged him but the reason why he was seeing her like that. Because others had seen her too. He had been on his way to the Great Hall when those snickering fifth-years came the opposite direction, laughing and sneering about this girl enjoying herself in the bathroom, without locking the door, without covering herself, one even said she had winked at them.

Despite there being many girls, he had known immediately who they were talking about. Among all the girls there was only one who would do this: his own girlfriend. Having a very sexually active and not at all modest or coy girl by his side sure had its advantages, but unfortunately he couldn't spend every single minute of the day with her and when he didn't, she had the tendency of ending up in situations he then had to hear about from other students.

It had started when she had pleasured herself in front of a ghost and that hadn't been the end of it. She was just insatiable. And while he loved that about her more than anything, he couldn't help but feel very angry when she would share the beauty that was her body with others.

She was his, for crying out loud, and no matter how often he would figuratively drill (or quite literally fuck) that into her, she kept having these little accidents as she would call it: exposing herself in public, because oh no the wind, or bending over and forgetting she hadn't put on any underwear that day, or stretching a little too far causing the buttons of her shirt to almost pop.

And while the horny boys lusted over those incidents, the girls who witnessed them started to slag her in the most heinous ways, and when he first heard one of them referring to her as that needy nymph or the school's slut he had lost it (there was only one who was allowed to call her that, him, and he wouldn't even say it to her face). He had tried to talk to her, but she hadn't cared one bit – another reason why he loved her so much. She just didn't care what others thought about her. But she was playing with her reputation and he really didn't want her to jeopardise that.

Luckily the professors either ignored the rumours or didn't care, because despite it all, she was an excellent student and always exceeded expectations in anything she did. And maybe she did these risky things because she would be bored otherwise. Classes came too easy for her and he just knew she needed the thrill. He tried to satiate her hunger, he really did, but as they were from different houses and his roommates weren't the welcoming sort, there were times when he just couldn't be there for her.

Sebastian was here now though and after watching her for a while, how she floated about, steam and soap bubbles clouding the air, her body glistening under the large candle-lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and how she presented those curves... He sighed deeply, turned away and locked the door with a flick of his wand, before he stepped closer to the edge of the pool-sized tub and cleared his throat.

“Forgot to lock the door, darling?” he said loud enough for her to hear over the constant rushing of bath water spurting from the various taps lining the sides.

He watched her spin around and where there had been the plump curves of her arse were now the taut mounds of her breasts poking through the water surface, before she took a quick dive and emerged closer to the edge, her wet hair stuck to her head as she looked up at him with a sultry smile.

“Oh hello Sebastian,” she greeted him and grabbed the edge as she lifted herself up on her arms, her arse breaking through the surface once more as she squeezed her breasts between her arms and seductively splashed her feet about. “Fancy seeing you here...”

He gave her a grunt and crouched down to meet her eye level, his hand closing around her jaw as he pushed his mouth against hers for a quick but heated kiss. “Do I even have to say anything?” he then said quietly and raised his eyebrows.

She frowned innocently. “What do you mean?”

“Don't play coy, love,” he said with a dark grimace.

Her eyes wandered over his face as she eventually pushed herself out of the water and sat down on the edge, water running down her skin in thick rivulets. Then she sighed. “Who had the pleasure of seeing me now, hm?” she teased and smirked at him as she put her hands through her hair to push it out of her flushed face.

“I should be the only one who has the pleasure of seeing you like this,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed. “Not some horny fifth-years gloating about it on the Grand Staircase.” He sighed then and looked down, shaking his head. “You have to stop being so carefree...”

“I was just bathing!” she said in slight defiance. “That's what this bathroom is for, isn't it?”

“People usually lock the door when they occupy it, you know?”

“Boring people,” she remarked and rolled her eyes, looking away as she inhaled deeply, her breasts moving slightly under the motion. For a moment he was a little distracted as he took in her tiny frame, his hands itching to touch her and feel those curves under his rough fingers.

“Love, you can't keep doing that. You might get expelled...” he whispered, genuinely concerned.

She scoffed and shook her head, water drops flying everywhere. “Rubbish!” she exclaimed. “I've never even gotten detention for any of this!”

“Because it's usually me who gets detention whenever I indulge in your desire to fuck somewhere in the hallway,” he said with a smirk. “I am the disturber of peace, and gladly so, because you don't deserve the punishment. But seeing your reputation get dragged down like this... I think that's worse than getting detention.”

“I don't care,” she muttered, before she looked back at him, chewing on her lip. “You know I don't...”

He sighed and raised a hand to gently caress her cheek. “I know,” he confirmed. “But it hurts hearing those other girls call you... slut or whore or... nymph...” It hurt saying those words out loud as well and he saw her flinching at them, yet she didn't say anything and looked away.

“What if I am... a nymph?” she whispered then and he saw her eyeing the large mural on the wall depicting a mermaid on a rock. “Not just this... nymphomaniac girl everyone seems to talk about, but a real nymph? Perhaps I am part-mermaid!” She looked back at him and grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Sure you are,” he said dismissively and moved his hand over her wet hair. “You can be anything you want.”

She turned towards him then, kneeling in front of him, her hands finding his hard face as she stared directly into his eyes, her lips parted and trembling slightly.

“Then let me be this insatiable girl who is very comfortable with her body and who can't stop thinking about what to do next with her equally insatiable boyfriend!” she whispered and moved closer, her hot breath ghosting his skin.

He licked his lips and watched how her eyes wandered down his face, before he closed the distance between them and smacked his mouth to hers, kissing her hungrily. Her hands dug into his hair as she pulled him closer and he swayed on his heels, threatening to fall over the edge of the pool.

“Unlock the door, Sebastian,” she whispered against his lips, a dark gleam in her eyes. “Let them see...”

He held her gaze for a moment, breathing slightly heavier already. In the end he let her decide and handed her his wand without saying anything. She smiled at him and leaned past him before he heard a quiet clicking sound. When she looked back at him, the smirk only grew and suddenly he felt his clothes disappearing around him, leaving him crouching completely bare in front of her.

Her eyes moved down his body appreciatively and she licked her lips when she poked his growing arousal with the tip of his wand. “Look who's happy to see me,” she laughed and stood up, putting his wand carefully on a nearby stack of fresh towels.

Groaning deeply, he got up as well and watched her move her slender body along the large room, her hips swaying invitingly as her fingers slid over any surface that came her way while she traversed the steam filled space with confidence.

“So where do you want me?” she asked sultrily. “On this dresser? Against the wall? On the floor like the dirty animals that we are?” She touched a few taps and differently coloured water spurted from them, filling the large basin with more and more foam and the air with soap bubbles.

“Get in the water,” he said gruffly and after exchanging a dark gaze with her, he simply dove into the tub head first and emerged with a loud inhale on the other side, his hands finding the edge as he looked up at her, her entire body on display for him from this angle. She put her hands on her hips and walked closer to him, smiling seductively, her legs crossed as she stood, before she made a show out of uncrossing them, giving him a quick glance at her beautiful pussy. He bit the inside of his cheek and worked his jaw.

Before he could lose himself and just drag her in himself, she jumped over him and landed arse first in the bath behind him, splashing water and foam everywhere. She emerged with a laugh and they finally found each other in a heated tangle of limbs as she threw herself at him. Their mouths collided and he kissed her with a new born hunger that quickly left him light-headed and wanting so much more.

His hands were all over her as he groped at her hips and grabbed her rear and teased those cheeks apart. She moaned into his mouth, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she clung onto him. Somehow he ended up sitting on the steps leading into the vast basin, leaving him submerged to his shoulders, while she floated against him, her arse breaking through the water surface as he held her by her plump cheeks with nimble fingers teasing at her holes, still kissing her breathlessly, while her hands had found his cock and worked on him relentlessly.

Their heated and unfiltered noises, moans and groans and grunts and whimpers, could be heard loud and clear over the rushing of water and bubbling of foam and a small part of him wanted a bunch of fifth-years to walk in on them and not only see his beautiful girlfriend like this, but also see him holding her with his big hands, claiming her mouth and body possessively. He wanted them to see who this nymph belonged to.

As he felt himself tensing up under her ministrations, he grabbed her waist and pushed her body underwater and right on top of his lap. She broke from his lips then and watched him breathlessly, before she positioned herself right against his already twitching cock and due to the warm water surrounding them or the state of their aroused bodies, he slipped into her tight pussy easily until he felt himself buried deep within her.

Holding her firmly against him, he moaned into her mouth as her hands grabbed his face in support, her hot breath ghosting his flushed skin. It took him only a few upward snaps of his hips, until he shot his load right into her and it was almost a shame to know that his seed would be lost to the bath in no time.

As if reading his mind, she suddenly grabbed the edge of the tub and lifted herself up, her chest rubbing against his face as she struggled to get her footing, before she turned around and sat on the tiled edge of the bath, her legs spread and fragments of his cum dripping out of her clenching hole.

He stood then and turned to her, quickly resuming his grip on her waist before he changed his mind and made her turn around until she was lying on her stomach, her legs floating in the water around him as he stepped between them. Grabbing her arse cheeks and parting them eagerly, he didn't wait long to push his cock back into her, using his own cum as lubricant as he drove himself as deep as possible.

Her moans echoed off the walls of the room and he saw her stretching her arms out to hold onto a nearby towel rack. As he was still standing on the steps of the tub, and quite unsteadily so, he decided to crawl out of it and over her, pushing her forward on the slippery floor with his hips, prodding his cock deep against her cervix as he did so. She gasped and pulled herself over the floor to help him find space to adjust to the new position.

He grabbed her waist and lifted her rear up slightly, parting her legs wider as he settled between them. She shivered from either the colder air hitting her wet skin or his slow, but steady thrusts as he started moving against her, before he quickly fell into a rapid rhythm of driving his cock all the way into her to almost retreating entirely to repeat the same motion with as much fervour as he could muster. Which was a lot.

Now they had really become the dirty animals that they were as he took her on the floor, his pelvis slamming against her arse with loud slapping noises that mixed with their moans and groans and the occasional squeak as her hands slipped over the wet floor in a desperate attempt to hold onto anything as he pounded into her relentlessly. He could feel her walls clenching around him almost painfully and it only made him move faster and harder against her until she shuddered and cried out loudly, the tremors of her orgasm vibrating through his cock, causing him to come right after her.

He gave her one last final thrust that would have skidded her over the floor if he didn't have a death grip on her waist, and buried himself deep inside her tightly clenched pussy, releasing his seed right into her womb, and even though he knew she took those contraceptive potions, he wanted to imagine that he had claimed her, made her his, by filling her to the brim with his cum that would one day make a tiny human grow inside her beautiful body. And it would be his and his alone.

With a deep grunt he collapsed on top of her, feeling her gasp at the sensation of his weight pushing her to the hard floor. His hands moved up to caress her hair as he cradled his arms around her head and kissed her cheek. She was breathing heavily beneath him and for a moment they were lulled by the sounds of the water rushing into the tub and foam bubbling out of the taps.

“Never change,” he whispered hoarsely and brushed his lips against hers as she turned her head towards him, her eyes half-lidded. “You are the most amazing girl I have ever met and anyone who says otherwise is just a sad, miserable human being! I love you,” he concluded quietly and saw her lips forming one of those gorgeous smiles.

“I love you too,” she whispered back breathlessly and brushed those lips against his for a quick kiss.

He shifted slightly on top of her and leaned up on his arms to give her some room to breathe, and after pushing her rear against him once more, coaxing a moan out of him, she somehow managed to slip away from under him, before she turned onto her back and grabbed his arms to help her slip back into place, her cum dripping centre pressing against his spent and drooping cock.

“Come on, get cosy,” she offered with a smirk. “You don't actually think we're done here, right?”

Sebastian watched her with a raised eyebrow, before he grabbed his length and gave himself a few strokes, but she quickly touched his wrist, her fingers prying his away to do the task herself. Licking his lips he leaned back on his knees and watched her, and it didn't take long for him to get somewhat hard again.

Holding onto his cock, she shimmied closer to him, her legs snaking past his hips as she wrapped them around him and crossed her feet behind him, pulling herself right against him, before she guided his tip to her entrance and with a slow tilt of her hips pulled him into her tight warmth once more. Inhaling deeply he felt himself sinking into her, held comfortably by her clenching walls.

Her fingertips brushed against his lower stomach and upwards over his abdomen, grazing the tight muscles, as she just lay there in front of him, his cock coming back alive inside her while she just seemed to enjoy the feeling of having him so close. He watched her in nothing but awe and admiration, stunned by her bold moves and her beauty, until she started sharing her thoughts with him.

“You know what I've been thinking about?” she whispered quietly, drawing circles on his stomach. She didn't give him time to answer or think as she added: “Threesomes.”

His eyes went wide, before they narrowed darkly. “What?”

“Yes, who could we invite for a night of fun? What do you think?” she asked, licking her lips as she shifted slightly against him, deliberately clenching her walls around his cock.

“Nobody,” he immediately responded. “I'm not sharing you with anyone!”

Her eyes met his and she gave him a pout. “Why not?”

“Why not?” he repeated, his voice louder and angrier than he had anticipated. “Because you are my girlfriend, mine! I can barely stand the thought of other people looking at you, and you expect me to let some ugly bastard touch you? Forget it!”

“He wouldn't have to be ugly,” she teased and smirked at him. “But I'd be so curious to know what another cock would feel like...”

Her words sank into his heart like a thousand needles. “Am I not enough for you?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, as he forced himself to remain as calm as possible even though his mind was racing and the emotions boiled just beneath the surface.

She blinked then and her face fell, before she sat up and snaked one arm around his torso to hold herself up, her pelvis pushing firmer against his. “That's not what I meant!” she said quietly and cupped his face with her free hand. “You know I love your cock and I would never want to part with it!” she said quickly and to underline her words, she shifted against him, pushing him in deeper. “I was just curious what another would feel next to yours!”

She only made it worse, although he switched from being sad and jealous to downright angry and disgusted. “Next to mine? As in... buried inside you with me? You want to have two cocks in your pussy, is that it?”

She blushed at his blunt words, but nodded slowly.

“Sorry, love, not going to happen. I'd have to be very close with whoever bloke you decide on. Like, very close, and I don't feel too comfortable doing that with any other guy...” he told her and clenched his jaw, feeling his dick shrinking just at the thought of that.

She chewed on her lips. “What about Ominis? He wouldn't even be able to see you --”

“No!” he exclaimed firmly. Her train of thought caused his head to spin. He never wanted to think about things like this, no matter how much he wanted to satiate and satisfy his girl, but getting his best friend involved was taking it a lot of steps too far.

“Okay,” she whispered after a moment of silently staring at him. “Okay, forget I said anything...”

He inhaled sharply and looked down at where they were connected. Suddenly he was filled with doubts and guilt and everything inside him was fighting. He wanted her to himself, but he also wanted to make her the happiest girl alive. But sharing her like that? He couldn't do it, not even with Ominis...

The worst part was that her idea was not new to him. He had thought about sharing her with the blond boy once before, right at the beginning of getting to know her better when he had found out that she had impacted the other boy's life just as much as she had his. Yet in the end she had chosen him, Sebastian, and he had never thought about it again. And he wouldn't start now.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, his eyes wandering over her flushed face as she stared at his chest, not even meeting his eyes any more. He noticed a wave of goosebumps rushing over her skin. “Come on, love, don't give me the silent treatment! That was a lot to ask, you know?” he tried turning the guilt train around.

She sighed, before she looked back up at him. “What about Jackdaw?” she then mused and he couldn't help but open his mouth in nothing but shock and indignation. The nerve of that woman! She couldn't just drop the topic, she had to bring him into it as well.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed angrily and narrowed his eyes, his hands grabbing her waist tightly, possessively bruising her skin. She winced slightly, but held his gaze.

“Please, just try to think about it, okay? At least you wouldn't have to touch him!” she explained, her voice almost pleading.

“You realize that bastard doesn't even have a dick?” he said loudly and stared at her. “He is a fucking ghost!”

She blushed at that and pursed her lips, but kept staring at him. “He does and I'd still feel it and we could simulate it with one of my toys and he'd be there... to make it feel better...” she explained with her voice barely audible now. She even looked away as she spoke.

He listened intently, every word making it so much darker inside his head. “He didn't just watch, did he?” he concluded eventually, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. “You told me he just watched as you pleasured yourself!”

“He did!” she quickly replied and placed her shaking hands on his tense chest. “But he also --”

“No! No, don't tell me! You fucked him after all, didn't you?” he yelled and pushed her hands away, then grabbed her thighs to unclench her from around his waist.

With a not so gentle shove, he brought more distance between them as he pulled out of her and got to his feet quite unsteadily, anger and exertion making his legs tremble.

He left her sitting on the floor, her legs wide open and her mouth just as agape as she watched him with her eyes watering and her lips quivering, before he started pacing the steam filled room, shaking his head. “I can't believe it...”

“Sebastian...” she whispered, her voice shaking as much as the rest of her body.

He stopped then and stared at her. “Well, tell me the truth then. What exactly did he do, huh?”

She looked at him and when the first tear dropped from the corner of her eye, he felt bad, but still too angry to do anything about it. “It was like I told you... he watched me play with my toys... asked me to... stuff my pussy... and take a look at it... and then he --” Exhaling loudly, she lowered her gaze, her fingers moving mindlessly over her wet folds. “He just hovered above me, really. He didn't touch me, he can't, you know that, it was just pretend... but you know what it feels like to get in contact with a ghost... all cold and tingly? Well, it did feel nice on my hot skin... I have to admit...”

Her words made his skin crawl, and not in the pleasant way that she had described just now. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, trying to contain the rage he felt. “So you... pretended to have somebody else's dick in you and it felt nice?” he repeated with his voice low and threateningly quiet. His jaw was starting to hurt from being so tense.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were dark and full of defiance, despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You said it was my body and that I could do whatever I want with it! And I did! What is your problem?” Her voice had gotten louder and he saw her shaking badly as she clenched her hands into fists.

“You lied to me...” he muttered darkly and he saw how his words hit a mark as her face fell right in front of him, all emotion gone at once. All but guilt.

She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, averting his gaze once more. “I didn't mean to...” she said after a long moment of the worst silence that might have ever been between them.

He felt his own anger deflating slowly. This was the second time he had been jealous of the same fucking ghost and he had told himself before that there was absolutely no reason, because in the end it was him, Sebastian, who would be able to touch and feel the girl on the floor in front of him. That was, if he didn't push her away completely.

Inhaling deeply he knelt down next to her, his hand gingerly brushing against her thigh before he gently grabbed one of her hands. “I know you have needs,” he started then, his voice as soft as he could possibly make it sound. She chose to not look at him still. “And I would never blame you for them. I meant what I said, it is your body and you can do whatever you want with it. And I suppose... you did and that bastard – Jackdaw – just used you like that. You can't possibly push off a ghost and I bet he wouldn't take no for an answer.”

He saw her stirring at that, her lips pressed together tightly. “But I... I can understand that it might have... felt good in that situation as well. I know you can lose yourself in lust sometimes and I don't judge you for it...” He gave a short chuckle. “Hell, that's one of the many reasons why I love you so much.” He took a deep breath. “Darling, I'm sorry. My emotions got the better of me... and that's probably why you didn't tell me, right?”

She finally looked at him, her features slightly more relaxed than before. The skin around her eyes was red and puffy and there was still a wet shine to her gaze, but when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked him over, he knew she had already forgiven him yet again. He raised his free hand to cup her face and wipe at her wet cheek.

“How can I make up for it?” he asked quietly and brought his face closer to hers. “And please don't ask me to fuck a ghost with you!”

She grimaced at him and exhaled loudly through her nose. “Just... hold me?” she then asked, her voice strained and hoarse.

He obliged immediately and pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her shivering body against his as he rested his chin on top of her head. She relaxed slowly as she melted against him. “I hate fighting with you...” he said quietly and kissed her wet hair.

“Me too...” she muttered under her breath. “And I'm sorry as well...” she then added, issuing a sniffling sound as she buried her face under his arm. “I know my request was... ridiculous. No, uncalled for even. I don't need another cock in me, I only need yours! I suppose my... hormones got the better of me.”

He chuckled at that and rubbed her back gently. For a moment they just stayed like this, a pile of limbs on the floor, his heart relaxing more and more the longer he held her. And his mind went back to happier places. “You know what's one good thing about having arguments?”

She looked up then, peeking her head out of his bear hug, her eyes sparkling.

“Make-up sex,” they both said in unison and laughed right after.

With his arms around her, he fell the short distance to the floor and rolled around a little until she was on top of him, their mouths already smacked together in a hungry kiss. “Where were we?” he grunted against her lips as she gripped his hair tightly and started grinding her hips against his groin.

“Where we belong,” she whispered and showered his face with hurried kisses before she moved down to his neck and along his chest until she closed her hand around his cock and focused all her attention on his growing length. “Where I belong...”

He inhaled deeply and crossed his arms behind his head as he watched her with a wide smirk. She didn't waste a single second before she had closed her lips around his tip and gave him a hard suck, coaxing those noises out of him that echoed loudly off the tiled walls of the bathroom. With her eager fingers massaging his balls, she dove down on him hungrily, the slurping sounds music in his ears.

Quickly forgetting about or at least suppressing anything that had happened earlier, his head was so full of static, he probably would have agreed to anything if she would have asked him in that moment. Luckily she didn't, luckily her mouth was too full to articulate any ridiculous requests. To keep it that way he reached out one hand to gently but firmly grab her hair and push her down onto his cock until she let out a gurgling sound.

He loosened his hold when she pinched his balls in retaliation, and he gave her a strained laugh as she looked up at him with dark eyes, her lips still strained around his girth. Winking at her, he accepted the rolling of her eyes as she continued to suck him off as if she was clearly starved and in dire need of his seed.

It took her only a few more moments of working her hand against him and pressing her tongue along his shaft and hollowing her cheeks around him, and when she lowered her head to let him hit the back of her throat, gagging deliciously around him, he felt his cock twitching and his balls tightening and then he came right down her throat. He groaned loudly and leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as he bucked his hips against her, coaxing a few whimpers out of her, before he felt her leaning back, coughing slightly.

He looked at her then, her lips swollen, and when she opened her mouth for him, he saw the thick white substance on her tongue before she swallowed hard and made it disappear. That alone would have driven him off the edge yet again if he hadn't already blown his load into her. Grunting in delight, he watched her going back down on him, licking up the few rogue drops of cum on his stomach and thighs, before she licked along the pulsating veins of his cock, teasing his tip yet again.

“I think it's my turn now,” he said hoarsely and leaned up on his elbows, licking his lips in anticipation. She smirked at him, already knowing what he wanted to ask of her. Of course she had the same idea and she quickly clambered over him, and when he lay back down, she positioned her knees on either side of his head, before she lowered her centre right onto his face.

He grabbed her waist and held her in place as he dove nose first into her heated slit, taking a deep breath before he started lapping at her lower lips. She shuddered on top of him, moaning softly. He kept pushing his tongue through her folds, teasing his nose against her clit and causing her thighs to twitch against him, eager to just smother him once she reached a certain point.

Before she did, he snaked one arm around her leg, holding it in place while his other hand moved along the curves of her arse, squeezing and kneading her cheek possessively, with his fingers teasing her from the other side. She squirmed on top of him, barely able to hold her weight up, but he didn't care, he even pulled her closer to push his tongue deeper into her warmth until he moved the muscle past her entrance, really getting a taste of that sweet pussy.

He was light-headed and breathless, but he didn't stop his ministrations until she moaned louder and louder, her body shuddering on top of him, and only then did he move his mouth to her previously unattended clit. As soon as he pulled the soft bundle of nerves between his lips, she cried out and twitched badly, her thighs pushing together with a force that he could barely balance with his arm still holding her.

He licked and sucked her little nub with everything he had and when she came, it hit him right in the face. Closing his eyes, he kept going, relishing the fight she fought on his face, her body spasming wildly and her noises somewhere between helpless cries and lustful moans as she pushed her pelvis firmer against him, grinding mindlessly on his face as he kept pushing his tongue against her clit, while also lapping at her juices and sucking on her lips.

When he snaked his hand around and pushed one finger into her tightly clenched pussy and curled it just right, she screamed in pleasure and almost toppled off of him, but he held her tightly and kept stimulating her in all the ways he knew.

Another orgasm rolled over her and she jerked her hips against him and almost knocked him out with her pubic bone as she forced herself firmer into his face. Yet he kept licking and sucking and pushing until she all but wailed and collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily as all the fight left her body, leaving her a boneless whimpering mess that was still trying to smother him.

He eventually grabbed her waist and rolled her around, lying her gently on her back as he started showering her soft body with kisses. “Mine,” he groaned quietly as he kissed the subtle blush of hair above her pussy, then moved upwards. “Mine,” he told her stomach, imagining all the times he had filled her with his seed. “Mine, mine, mine, mine!” he repeated, kissing her ribs and between her breasts, before he moved to the soft mounds themselves.

He paid extra attention to them as they practically jumped right into his mouth with her chest rising and falling so fast. His tongue circled around her hard nipple while his hand found the other breast, kneading it firmly and rolling the pert bud between his fingers. She moaned and whimpered beneath him, her eyes closed, and nothing but pure bliss on her pretty face.

Once he was done and satisfied with handling her breasts, he gave them each another peck, whispering “Mine...” again and moved on to nibble on her neck next. There he kissed and licked and sucked on her soft flesh, teasing her pulse, grazing his teeth over her skin before sinking them playfully into her neck, leaving love bites and actual bite marks all along the slender column, big enough for everyone to see.

Before he moved to her face, he placed his hand around her throat and squeezed gently, coaxing a surprised moan out of her as her eyes fluttered open. Holding her neck firmly he pushed his mouth onto hers and kissed her demandingly, until she had to raise a hand and helplessly scratch her fingernails over any skin she could find to make him stop, and when he leaned back, she was gasping for air and all but glared at him.

He smirked at her and gave her a more gentle kiss, letting go of her throat as well, as he cupped her face with both hands and closed his lips around hers as softly as he was able to in his aroused state. She whimpered against his mouth and somehow her hand found the back of his neck as she pulled him closer with the tiniest of tugs, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with his tongue invading her mouth forcefully.

She seemed still too shaken to kiss him back at the same pace, so he went easy on her and eventually rolled onto his side and pulled her against him, one arm snaked around her neck, the other resting on her arse as he kissed her lazily, equally as breathless by now. “Who do you belong to?” he groaned into her mouth in a low, dark voice.

“You,” she replied barely audible, her voice strained and breathy. “I belong to you, Sebastian...”

He smiled at her and let his tongue glide over her lips until he moved to her earlobe and nibbled on it playfully, softly humming into her ear to coax a few more whimpers out of her. “Yes, you do... all of you... never forget that...”

“Never,” she whimpered and leaned more against him, her hands caged between their chests.

“Good girl,” he whispered and gave her arse a solid smack that made her cry out against him. He only chuckled and bit down on her earlobe gently, knowing that she wouldn't stray from him any more after he was done with her. And he wasn't done with her yet.

They hadn't been caught yet despite the unlocked door to the Prefects' bathroom and he really wanted to push his luck today. And the boundaries of his girlfriend. She deserved as much.

End notes: This was so hard to finish, not because I didn't have enough ideas, but because I had too many! I could have continued this FOREVER! They would just never stop! But I had to end it somewhere, so here, I hope you can live with this rather open-ended ending. Sorry.

Also, uh, I kinda love writing possessive Seb and his feral, horny-all-the-time girlfriend. One day I'll write an innocent mc, I promise!

And on the topic of Possessive/Jealous!Seb I want you to take a look at this amazing artwork by @tamayula-hl - just look at it and melt away at how stunning and fitting this is! I was already in the middle of writing this one-shot when this was posted and I was just floored at the timing once again! Love it, please take a look!

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

[differenteagletragedy]

Baxter is a daaaaddy

In which @orion4ever generally requested fics with Daddy Baxter and I decided to write a novel -- this is a series of short little shots of Baxter and MC having a baby and watching that child grow up.

(Note: the baby's name is maybe the corniest thing I have ever done in my entire life but I stand by it and now it is my truth.)

"Do you think maybe you've taken enough tests?" Cove asked, standing next to you in his bathroom.

You looked down at the counter at the neat little line of pregnancy tests. There were different brands, different prices, but they all had the same result.

You were pregnant. With Baxter's baby. And it was NOT planned.

"What are you going to do?" he asked after you didn't answer his first question.

"I'm going to tell him," you responded, trying to project more confidence than you felt.

You and Baxter had been back together for a while at that point, and you'd been living together in Prism Vista City for a couple of years. Your relationship was great, and you absolutely wanted to marry him and have children together. But the plan was for all that to happen in the future.

Life, however, had a different plan.

Cove hyped you up as you collected all the sticks, wrapped them up in the bag from the drug store and threw them away. He kept it going as you walked out to your car to drive home, telling you about how great it would go, how Baxter would be so excited, how you'd be the best mom -- the sweetest words from your sweetest friend.

You tried to keep them in your mind as you made your way back to the apartment. When you made your way up to the front door, you paused, taking in a breath, then went inside.

"There's my girl," Baxter said sweetly, glancing over from the kitchen. The smells wafting through to the living room told you he was almost done cooking dinner.

"Hey," you answered, a bit less enthusiastically than normal.

It wasn't that you thought he'd be mean about it, or disappointed or anything. Not really. It's just that Baxter's original disappearing act left a bigger impression on you than you liked to admit, even now. Logically, you knew there was no chance of him running away. But still, those old feelings were resurfacing and it made you a little uneasy.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, dropping what he was doing to move to stand in front of you.

"Nothing," you said automatically -- you hadn't planned out how to tell him, but you didn't think the doorway would be a great place.

"I know you better than that," he chided, then repeated, "What's wrong?"

His eyes were boring into yours, and it just slipped out.

When he heard those words fall quietly from your lips, he froze. For what felt like forever, he didn't make a sound. He didn't move.

Then he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

All the emotions you'd been trying to hold in let loose, and you started sobbing on his shoulder. He held you, stroking your hair, whispering how much he loved you until you were able to calm down a bit.

He leaned back just enough to look at you and asked, "Are we doing this?"

"I want to," you said, certain of that much.

A wide grin broke out on his face -- not one of his usually little lazy smirks, a full-on smile.

And that's how you and Baxter started on the journey of a lifetime.

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

"If A goes into C ... then ... no, that can't be right," Baxter said, staring out at all the wood pieces and hardware bits laid out around him.

You were about six months along, your tummy was getting rounder, and he had you sitting on the rocking chair in the room you'd been converting to a nursery like the dainty princess he'd been treating you as for the past several months.

He was putting together a crib for the baby. It was not going well.

After you became pregnant, the two of you had decided that it might be time to find a nice little house in the suburbs, somewhere with a yard and a little more room. Baxter took the task on, spending hours upon hours researching and making calls and talking to the bank. When he found some real contenders, he'd taken you out to see them, and that's how you found your new home.

And yes, he'd assured you, the ice cream truck came down this street.

Looking down at your boyfriend reading a packet of assembly instructions like it was the most indecipherable text known to man, you couldn't help but laugh.

"I do believe we're missing something," he muttered, not hearing you.

This had been going on for an hour, and he hadn't gotten anywhere. Baxter was beautiful and sweet and graceful and so many good things, but he certainly wasn't a handyman.

"Ok, that's enough."

He looked up when you stood, then got up himself, moving to you.

"You should be resting, darling," he said, putting his hands on your waist. "Sit back down, let me take care of this. Please."

"I'm pregnant, Baxter, not helpless," you laughed, snaking your arms over his shoulders and pulling him closer.

He smiled -- he had been making quite the fuss over you since you'd told him the big news, but he didn't mind a bit. He actually enjoyed it very much. After all, you were giving him the greatest gift -- a family -- and the least he could do was pamper you while your body created an entire human being.

"I like taking care of you," he reminded you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and another on your temple.

"Then stop messing around with this stupid crib and mess around with me instead," you said.

He raised an eyebrow, but your remark wasn't a huge surprise. Pregnancy hormones were intense, and after you got through an unpleasant first trimester, you'd gotten pretty ... fiesty.

"What kind of man would I be to deny the mother of my child something she asks for?" he asked.

"No kind of man at all," you replied, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

If Baby Ward ever asked where their antique crib came from, you'd have to come up with a good answer. "Your dad couldn't figure out IKEA instructions and your mom was too horny to help him" just didn't sound like a great story to pass on.

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

You were exhausted, more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life by far. If you'd been in any another situation, you would have passed out a long time ago and slept as long as humanly possible.

But the sight of Baxter standing in your hospital room, cradling your newborn baby girl with such a look of love and devotion on his face was enough for you to keep your eyes open.

"She's perfect," he told you softly. "Absolutely perfect."

The baby, who you still hadn't named yet, gave a little coo, and you'd swear if he wasn't so intent on holding her so carefully he would have melted right into the floor.

"Daddy loves you," he told her, using a mix between his normal fancy voice and a baby-talk tone that he'd been using throughout your pregnancy when talking to your tummy -- it was equal parts adorable and hilarious. "Daddy is going to take care of you and mommy forever and ever, you little angel, daddy's little princess ..."'

He went on like that for a while. It could have been the exhaustion, but you thought you saw actual hearts in his eyes once.

After a bit, the baby started crying. Baxter swiftly handed her to you, and you started a breastfeeding attempt. He stayed right by your side, helping you angle her around and move her head to try to find the best latch. Once you'd found it, you smiled up at him.

"I think I know what her name is," you told him.

"Oh?" he asked. "Do share."

"Penelope. Penny for short."

He smirked at the reference to one of his old favorite sayings, then looked down at the baby. He studied her for a moment, then looked back to you.

"Penny Ward," he said, giving you a quick kiss. "One of the two lights of my life."

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

"Penny ... baby, please ..." you cried, holding your six-month-old daughter in your arms as she cried right along with you.

She was teething, a sharp little top of a tooth poking through her gums, and she didn't care for the feeling one bit. You'd tried everything -- teething rights, soft frozen foods, tylenol, walking, sitting, lying down. Nothing was working.

"Daddy's home," you heard from the doorway. Baxter had been off working a wedding, and you hadn't heard him come in over the sound of Penny's screams.

He walked directly to you, still in his self-designated work uniform of a black shirt and slacks, and took the baby from you.

"I've got her," he said, rubbing her back lightly. "Why don't you take care of yourself? Bed, dinner, a bath, perhaps? What do you need?"

You leaned against the wall, still crying yourself and not sure how to respond. You watched as Baxter kissed Penny on the cheek and moved with her across the room in a little waltz. He'd done this since she was born -- she liked being walked around, but why would Baxter walk when dancing was just as easy?

She settled down a bit in his arms -- a daddy's girl, through and through.

"Can I take a shower?" you asked. "Then I can get her to sleep while you get ready for bed."

"Absolutely not," he told you. "And miss an evening with one of my favorite girls?"

"You worked all day," you reminded him. "You need to rest."

"I think we both know I've got quite the knack for burning the midnight oil."

The two of you had a bit of a stare down, but you were too tired, and Baxter with your baby in his arms was too sweet.

"Ok, fine," you finally said. "I'll take a shower and lay down for a little while, but you come get me soon so you can go to bed."

"Absolutely," he said in a way that actually meant "absolutely not."

Still, you wandered off to change out of your vomit-stained shirt and hop in the shower, completely drained but completely aware of how much you'd lucked out with Baxter.

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

You'd been with Baxter for a long time. You'd seen him at his highest and at his lowest, at his most confident and in the depths of his self hatred.

But you don't think anything quite compared to the Baxter you saw in front of you -- the Baxter who was standing in a hospital room, watching his four-year-old daughter wailing with a broken arm.

He had taken Penny to the park while you got some work done, and she'd fallen off the swing and landed funny on her arm. That was all, a normal childhood injury. Of course it was difficult to see your child in pain, but you could tell Baxter was also blaming himself.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he said softly, standing by the bed. He had one hand on her head, holding it against him, and the other was grasping the hand on her uninjured arm.

"You've got to be a brave girl, ok?" you said. You were kneeling in front of her, careful for the doctors who were at a small table by the bed, preparing to anesthetize her so they could set her arm in a cast.

"But it hurts!" she sobbed. "I want to go home!"

Baxter tensed a bit, and when you glanced up at him you saw tears in his eyes. Still, he did his best to hold it together for his pride and joy.

"I'll tell you what," he said, gripping her hand. "You just be brave for a little longer, then tomorrow we can do whatever you like. Movies all day, candy for breakfast, a toy store shopping spree -- just name it."

You glanced at him again. This girl could take this guilt trip for a major ride if she wanted.

Penny's sniffles slowed down a little as she looked up at her father. "Can we play princesses?"

"We'll be the prettiest princesses in all the land," he replied with no hesitation.

That seemed to make her happy, then the doctors were ready. They put her to sleep, then ushered you and Baxter out of the room while they got to work.

"I'm so sorry," Baxter gasped, all the emotion falling out of him now that his daughter wasn't there to see it. "It happened so quickly -- I should have been closer, I should have caught her ..."

"It was an accident," you told him simply as you pulled him into a hug. "That's all. It's not your fault."

"But it is," he argued. "I was there, I was taking care of her. If she'd fallen differently, if something else had happened, I don't --"

"Stop," you cut him off. "There's no reason to think like that. You're an amazing father. This was an accident. Don't beat yourself up."

He buried his face against your shoulder, and you felt the wetness of his tears. Penny was his world, the thought that he'd put her in danger and inadvertently caused her pain was killing him.

"You're a good father," you repeated. "If I was the one with her at the park, would you blame me?"

"Of course not," he scoffed.

"Then why can't you give yourself the same consideration?"

An age old question about an issue that Baxter was better about, but still struggled with. He held himself to an impossibly high standard, one that he'd never expect anyone else to meet.

When he failed to answer, you hugged him tighter. You told him again how wonderful he was, how much Penny loved and adored him. As you were singing his praises, a nurse came out of the room and told you that they were all done.

After a while longer, the little girl was discharged and sent home with a pink cast that gave you some warm and fuzzy feelings of your own childhood. After sleeping in the next morning, she felt better when she woke up, and your little family spent the day as princesses, complete with tiaras, tutus and wands. And you were the prettiest in all the land.

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

"Oh my god ... oh ... my god."

"Amazing, right?"

Penny, now a precocious ten-year-old, sat on the floor in the bedroom you shared with Baxter, holding an old photograph in her hands. She looked absolutely entranced, which made sense, considering what the picture showed her.

She'd heard of Baxter's infamous monochrome phase. Her aunts and uncles had made plenty of remarks about it over the years -- Uncle Terry was able to paint an especially vivid picture.

He didn't have many pictures at all of himself when he was younger. He'd cut ties with his family years ago, so any photos there were out, and he'd gone through that lengthy phase where he didn't really let himself have friends. He didn't really like being in photos then, although you had managed to snap a couple of him during that summer in Sunset Bird.

And so your daughter had in her hands a picture of Baxter, all of 19 years old, in all his black and white glory.

"Oh my god," she repeated.

The man himself appeared in the doorway then. He'd been about to announce that dinner was almost ready, but seeing the scene before him, he stopped.

You looked from the photograph back up to Baxter, taking in all the changes that the past two decades had brought. The black and white hair was gone of course, and he'd long been able to wear actual colors. He'd put on a few pounds too -- after all, he wasn't 19 anymore. The smirk though, that was definitely the same.

"Dad, can I be honest?" Penny asked.

"Always," he answered easily.

"You looked ridiculous. Like really. What were you even thinking?"

"I don't know, I think there was a certain charm there," he teased, leaning over her to get a better look at the picture. "I wonder, do you think I could pull that off again? Perhaps a trip to the salon is in order."

"No."

"Oh, come on," he continued. "It wasn't nearly as bad a look as you seem to think. After all, your mother liked it well enough."

"Gross," she cried, standing up and placing the photo on the bed. "I'm going to my room so I don't have to hear this. I'm traumatized."

You laughed as your dramatic daughter did a full-body shake to emphasize how scarred she was. After she was gone, you turned to Baxter, who was grinning at you.

"It wasn't that ridiculous, was it?" he asked, knowing that it, in fact, was that ridiculous and more.

"It's what's inside that counts," you told him, going in for a kiss.

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

"Look up ... more ... keep your eyes open, I've almost got it."

After a moment, Penny pulled back and examined Baxter's face. She nodded, satisfied at the look of the eyeliner she'd applied on him.

She was 16 now, and she'd developed a flair for the dramatic like her father had when he was a teenager. Instead of a monochromatic look, she preferred dark colors and heavy makeup. She'd also grown out of her "ugh, parents" stage early, which was why she was letting Baxter take her to a concert.

It was a metal band he liked, and when she heard him playing it in the car, she liked it too. He found tickets to a show they were doing nearby, and you encouraged him to take her on a daddy-daughter date.

That's why you were gathered in the bathroom together -- she had to put a little makeup on him so he fit in.

"I've got some leather pants I'm going to wear as well," he told her. "And for my shirt, I was thinking perhaps I skip it and instead put on a matching leather vest. What do you think?"

After 16 years of living with Baxter, Penny was no longer bothered by his constant teasing. She went on with her business, smudging the eyeliner before beginning to apply a dark blush.

"Whatever you want, dad," she answered. "Whatever you wear, I'm sure you'll be the prettiest princess in all the land."

Baxter was already thrilled to be going out with her, but after hearing the old callback to her favorite childhood game, you could see he was melting.

When the makeup was done, he got dressed -- not in the leather ensemble he suggested -- and you waved them off as they left for the concert.

After they returned home that night, Penny was ecstatic, and so was Baxter. You listened as they went on about how great the show was, and how excited she was to experience her first mosh pit. A hint of anger flashed across her face when she mentioned a guy who was too rough and nearly knocked her down, but then she smiled when she told you her dad had taken care of it.

"What did you do?" you asked suspiciously.

"I took care of it, darling," he answered, giving a quick wink to Penny

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

Years later, you found yourself taking in a familiar site, something you'd seen hundreds, if not thousands of times before.

Baxter was standing in front of you, nervously smoothing out his suit.

"Do I look all right?" he asked.

"As handsome as always," you told him.

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, then ran his hands down his jacket again.

It was Penny's wedding day, and you don't think you'd ever seen him look as anxious as he did then.

He had planned the wedding -- of course he had. While he always took his job seriously, doing his very best to give his clients the best experience he possibly could, this time was just different. He went above and beyond, pouring himself into every detail to ensure his daughter had her dream day.

You and Penny had had to convince him to bring on a partner of sorts, someone to execute everything during the actual wedding so he could enjoy it. But you'd watched him keep a close eye on everything anyway, totally read to jump in if needed.

But right now, his mind was on something else. The reception was about to begin, which meant it wasn't too long until the father-daughter dance.

And Baxter was taking that dance very seriously.

He watched the newlyweds take their first dance, grabbing for your hand as you both looked on with pride. It was such a special feeling, knowing that your child had found someone who meant as much to her as you meant to each other.

Before you knew it, the music changed and Penny found you in the crowd gathered around. She gestured for Baxter to join her, and with one more tug at his tie, he walked towards her.

Watching them dance together was always so lovely, but it was a little different this time around. A lifetime of dances came to mind -- Baxter and Penny dancing around the kitchen when she was a cranky infant who refused to go to sleep, them dancing around her bedroom in their princess gear. You remembered him teaching her the basics of ballroom dancing as she prepared for her first school dance so she'd feel confident. He'd showed her all the trendy dances that were popular when you and her were kids, and although she pretended to die of embarrassment, she did laugh after he taught her how to Dougie.

You wondered how many more chances you'd get to see them like this, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Things had changed so much, and they only kept changing. It was a bittersweet feeling.

As you were getting lost in your thoughts, you met Baxter's eyes as he moved Penny around the dancefloor. Instead of getting caught up in the uncertainties of the future, you let your heart swell with love.

Against all odds, you'd created a family with him. After a number of chance meetings and a couple of false starts, you'd built a life with him -- you'd put decades of blood, sweat and tears into it. And it was beautiful.

When Baxter led Penny by you, she stuck out her arm and snatched yours, dragging you into the dance as well. He laughed with delight, content to stop the more elaborate routine to wrap his arms around his two best girls and sway together.

"We did good," you told him quietly, glancing over at your daughter.

"We certainly did."

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Strategy Game Date - English Translation (2/2)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

My fingers inadvertently brush against his earlobe as I slowly drape my necklace on his face.

Like marking him as my guaranteed prize in advance, I grasp the chain and gently tug it, pulling him half a step closer to me.

The dazzling light settles back into my eyes, as if he has always meant to be mine.

Translation under the cut!

Previous: Part 1 & 2-> [Here]

=[Part 3]=

After I mention wanting to learn chess, Lucien unexpectedly takes me straight to the exhibition hall next to the banquet room.

Seven black and white checkered platforms of varying sizes divide the space vertically, connected by steps and reaching almost to the ceiling.

Towering above me, the black and white chess pieces are nearly life-sized. Like the legions of a mighty emperor arrayed for battle, they cast a majestic gaze down upon me, making me suddenly realize something.

MC: This... could this be a giant, three-dimensional chessboard?

Lucien: Hm, when the organizers created this exhibition hall, they probably wanted people to directly experience the spatial sense of three-dimensional chess.

Lucien picks up a remote control from the entrance and brightens the lights.

MC: So, if we're thinking like chess players, shouldn't we head up to the top level?

Lucien: [chuckles] Sometimes I wonder if this student has secretly seen my courseware.

He smiles and takes my hand, leading me up the steps. We weave between oversized chess pieces, finally reaching the top of the chessboard.

Lucien: Actually, looking from directly above, the rules for moving the pieces are generally similar to international classic chess.

Lucien: You've had some 'hands-on' experience with me before, so you should pick this up pretty quickly.

Lucien: The pieces in three-dimensional international chess can move vertically between adjacent boards. In addition to this, these small boards can rotate under corresponding rules.

He presses the remote, and a small chessboard begins to rotate horizontally until its black squares once again align with those of the adjacent larger board.

MC: Wow...! That's so interesting!

Lucien: [chuckles] Might as well give it a try.

I take the remote and, after a few shifts, gradually start to figure out the pattern.

MC: The smaller boards can only rotate if they're empty or have just one piece on them.

MC: But it seems like it can only move on the same side of the big chessboard and to the adjacent corners?

Lucien: [chuckles] As expected of a clever girl.

MC: Well, it's all thanks to the patient and guiding Teacher Lucien.

Lucien: Now then, rather than boring you with the rules, why don't we learn and gradually reinforce them through hands-on practice?

MC: So, are we going to jump right in and play a chess game?

Lucien: Mm, in an interesting way.

Lucien takes my hand and leads me to the level where the white chess pieces are arrayed.

Lucien: By entering the game personally, perhaps you'll be more immersed in it.

He smiles calmly and walks over to a white Queen piece. He extends his hand and pushes it aside, creating an empty space.

Lucien: Come on, give it a try.

Only at this moment do I belatedly understand the meaning of ‘entering the game personally'.

Gazing at each of the chess pieces solemnly arrayed around me, I take a deep breath and step into the center.

Like a coronation, the light crowns me. And amidst my nervousness, I also feel a thrill of excitement.

MC: Lucien, I'm ready.

Lucien: [chuckles] Okay, but you'll need to be cautious from now on.

Lucien: In chess, the Queen is the most powerful piece, and also the one most easily captured.

A voice that feels strangely familiar traverses the depths of distant memories, falling clearly upon my ears. I freeze for a moment, then a smile spreads on my face.

MC: Of course I know, especially since this is my first time on the 'battlefield’.

MC: However... I will do my best to fight a good battle.

Lucien: [chuckles] I'm honored to be your opponent.

With Lucien stepping onto the position of the black king, the instructional match begins.

To gain a more intuitive understanding, I open up the chessboard simulation that Lucien gave me.

Lucien: In three-dimensional chess, occupying and controlling the center layer is very important.

I suddenly recall the knight's jump in Carl's opening and skillfully push the white knight forward, seizing the initiative to start the game.

A flicker of surprise momentarily crosses Lucien's face, but he quickly smiles and moves to occupy the White Knight's most likely next landing spot.

After a few rounds, we soon converge on the strategic focal point—the center of the chessboard.

Lucien: The Queen piece can move along any horizontal row, vertical column, and diagonal line.

MC: Then I won't hold back.

Seeing my chance to capture Lucien's freshly placed pawn by moving between levels, I don’t hesitate. I walk over and gently push it.

A spotlight immediately illuminates this small victory of mine.

The display stand is already waiting nearby, and I proudly push the captured pawn onto it.

As Lucien explains the rules, the beams of light repeatedly light up, and I capture several more black pieces in succession.

MC: This feeling is just too addictive!

Lucien: Looks like this classmate is gradually discovering the joy of chess.

A subtle smile plays on Lucien’s lips, his expression brimming with lively interest as he appears engrossed in this entertaining and educational game.

At this moment, I notice Lucien standing diagonally across from me, just a step away.

According to the rules, I can checkmate this enemy king in just one step.

Suppressing my wildly beating heart, I casually start to speak as if it’s unintentional.

MC: What do chess players do at the moment of victory?

Lucien: They usually call out 'Checkmate' to tell the opponent, 'You've been ‘eaten’ by me'.*

MC: Ohhh~ Checkmate!~

Looking at him with his smiling eyes, seemingly unaware of his situation, I feel a bit giddy and rise slightly on my tiptoes.

Suddenly, tiny flecks of light glimmer across Lucien's face. Following his slightly narrowed gaze, I realize it's the light reflecting off my necklace.

The flecks of light dance just perfectly on his face, inexplicably arousing a desire within me.

I want to triumph over this genius, to have him celebrate for me, to have him witness my coronation.

Driven by this thought, I gently set the chessboard aside and take off my necklace.

My fingers inadvertently brush against his earlobe as I slowly drape the necklace on his face.

Like marking him as my guaranteed prize in advance, I grasp the chain and gently tug it, pulling him half a step closer to me.**

The dazzling light settles back into my eyes, as if he has always meant to be mine.

MC: Checkmate.

I look into his eyes and speak softly.

MC: Lucien, it seems like you're about to be ‘eaten’ by me now.

Lucien: Is that so?

Lucien: But... it seems my turn to make a move now

MC: …?

He raises an eyebrow, pushes the black Bishop aside, and moves along the line towards the King chess piece behind me.

Because I was focused on capturing pieces earlier, I didn't set up any defenses around my king. Now, I can only watch as Lucien advances towards it unimpeded-

As if in response to his words, the white king collapses in defeat.

Everything is happening so suddenly. A blinding beam of light abruptly shines just a few steps away, making me squint.

The chessboard, which just moments ago rested on the ground, now lies askew without me noticing, its tilted surface like a declaration of my defeat.

A golden chess piece rolls dejectedly towards the light until a large hand with defined knuckles picks it up.

Within the spotlight, Lucien holds the chess piece between his fingers and casually glances up.

Lucien: [the way his CN VA said this in english🤧] Game Over.

Lucien: Did this Miss Player enjoy the game to her heart's content?

The translucent colored glass refracts the cold light into his eyes, making him look like a proud and indifferent figure of high status.

It's as if, should he desire a win, the golden fruit of victory will naturally fall into his hand; and should I relish the challenge, he would be quite happy to help me experience that same joy.

Lucien has always been a good teacher.

Although the frustration of failure lingers in my heart, there is still a hidden sense of thrill that draws me toward him.

MC: Winning would make it even more enjoyable for me.

MC: However, losing might not be a bad thing either.

MC: That way, I can see how far I still have to go before I can beat you.

Lucien: [chuckles] That's very good.

Lucien: ‘Desire to win’ is the first step towards victory.

He gently caresses the chess piece in his hand, stretches his arms out even more languidly, and makes no attempt to hide his overflowing eagerness and anticipation.

Lucien: MC, do you still want to play?

MC: Of course.

He smiles ambiguously, his narrow eyes taking me in completely.

Lucien: Then, go ahead and beat me quickly.***

✂———————–

[T/N]

p.s. Did you catch all the references to S1 chapter 23 👀 Very interesting to see him saying essentially the same thing as Winter World Lucien/Ares, but more in casual tone and wording🤧 Also, as for the plot,… For now, I can only say that he's truly a black-bellied ‘beauty bait’ 😂 I will talk more about the plot at the end of the date~

*: In Chinese, 'capture' in chess is expressed as 吃掉 (chī diào), which literally means 'to eat up' or 'devour.' This creates an interesting double meaning in the MC's line, if you know what I mean🥴

**: The phrase used here is 囊中之物 (náng zhōng zhī wù), which literally translates to "something in the bag". It implies that something is already securely in one's possession, entirely under one's control, or easily obtainable—like something that's already been caught and placed in a bag or like a prize of a secured victory. By using this phrase, besides being overconfident she also expresses a desire to assert her “sovereignty” on him~

Also as for the line right after that (仿佛他本就是我的), a more literal translation would be that “as if he inherently/naturally/fundamentally belongs to me.”. like, him belonging to her just feel natural and inherent 🤧. That sounds awkward in EN so I use a more natural-sounding phrase sksksksks

***: Alternative translation: “Then, go ahead and win me quickly.” . 赢我 (literally, “win me”)can either be interpreted as him urging her to beat him in the game or literally ‘win’ him, with him still wearing her necklace a.k.a her stake on him, like a prize yet to be claimed… both can be true imo-

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

Throughout our trip, Lucien's chess lessons continue to progress step by step.

Soon, it's the last day, and we're heading back to the guesthouse after completing our itinerary.

I rest boredly on Lucien's lap, thinking about how to properly wrap up the vacation.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind.

MC: Lucien.

Lucien: MC.

Our voices ring out at the same time, and then we both laugh together.

Lucien: [chuckles] You go first.

MC: I've been learning chess for a week. Shouldn't the teacher check the results?

Seeing me glance meaningfully at the chessboard on the desk, he catches my meaning with a knowing smile.

Lucien: It seems a chess match is inevitable then.

MC: Hee hee~ But since Professor Lucien often has a habit of going easy on me, I must give you a serious reminder…

MC: If you don't give it your all, then I won't play with you anymore.

Seeing my eager expression, Lucien smiles and winks.

Lucien: In that case, I'll probably give it my all even more than I would for the championship.

✂———————–

MC: Woo hoo, you're too amazing!

Lucien innocently arranges the chessboard, as if he wasn't the one who checkmated me three times in five minutes.

Lucien: Do you want to play another round?

MC: No, no, no more. If we keep playing, I might develop some psychological scars…

Lucien: [chuckles] In that case, why don't we go have some fun?

MC: Hm?

As Lucien draws open the floor-to-ceiling curtains, a bright orange-pink view suddenly floods my retinas.

Flamingo floaties, heart-shaped balloons, and red lip-shaped water balloons are arranged around the pool, creating a lively party atmosphere.

Lucien: We agreed to have a pool party on the first day we arrived here.

Lucien: It's just that a certain classmate was so engrossed in learning chess that she seems to have completely forgotten about this.

Hearing the pretend grievance in his tone, I laugh and pinch his nose.

MC: Could it be that a certain professor was playing such a fast game of chess just to get me to go have fun sooner?

Lucien doesn't say anything, but a smile plays on his lips as if in confirmation.

Lucien: You always keep your head down when we play chess. It seems like I haven't seen your eyes in a long time.*

✂———————–

A party should naturally have the vibe of a party.

By the time I arrive in the garden, having changed into my pink dress, Lucien is already waiting for me.

The beige suit hugs his elegant form, accentuating his sharp lines, while the light green tie adds a touch of freshness.

MC: This trip is totally worth it!~ I unexpectedly got to see so many different styles of Professor Lucien.

Lucien: Initially, I didn't quite understand why you didn't want to wear a swimsuit to the party, but now—

Lucien: Seeing such a lovely picture, I think I understand.

The summer breeze gently tousles his bangs, and I suddenly realize that his hair has grown longer without me noticing.**

I can’t help but reach up to fiddle with his hair a couple of times, but it doesn't feel like enough. So I take off my hair clip and stand on tiptoe toward him.

My fingertips twirl a strand of his hair. He seems to realize what I'm doing and gently leans down. His warm breath falls steadily on the corner of my lips, like a phantom of a kiss.

His naturally exquisite brows and eyes are now fully unveiled, making me smile with satisfaction.

MC: It's better this way~ I can see your eyes all the time now.

Those dark eyes freezes for a fleeting second, then the world held within his gaze curves into the faintest of smiles. For a moment, I'm completely spellbound by the sight.

"Pop!" The balloon bursts with a bang, and we both blink in surprise, then burst into laughter together.

Sunlight casts dappled light and shadow on the water's surface, and a giant flamingo float drifts towards us, like an invitation of some sort. So, I reach out my hand to Lucien.

MC: Are you ready?

Lucien: Although I don't know what MC is referring to, I think I'd be more than happy to entrust myself to you.

He places his hand on my palm, and I immediately hold it tightly.

MC: [laughs] Then I won't hold back-

I raise our intertwined hands high above our heads and take a big step forward, jumping towards the flamingo with all my might.

As we float in midair, the warm sunlight, woven with dappled shadows cast by the trees, rushes toward me, and a joyful exclamation escapes my lips.

His familiar gentle voice sounds by my ear as his strong arm pulls me close and protects me firmly in his embrace.

Bam-!

We feel a soft, bouncy sensation on our backs as we sink before being bounced back up.

Colorful balloons float in mid-air, while polka-dotted water balloons bobbing along with the waves, like a pop art canvas unfolding before one's eyes.

The splashing water droplets glint like the world’s own flash, capturing all the joy in that moment.

The flamingo drifts leisurely until the waves finally calm down, and I turn to look at the person beside me.

MC: Once you board my “pirate ship”, there's no easy escape!

Lucien: [chuckles] If you're using yourself as bait to lure me onto your pirate ship…

Lucien: Then it seems this pirate miss has ensnared herself in her own trap. After all, we're in the same boat now... [whispers] you can't escape either.

With a soft laugh, he deliberately tightens his arms around me.

MC: Hahaha! Don't underestimate me!

I feign a struggle to break free but discover something tangled around my arm—

Several bright red lipstick decorations each trailing a long red thread, winding messily and mischievously around our bodies.

I'm just about to take it off, but then an idea strikes me, and with a smile, I tilt my chin up.

MC: Shall we play a little game?

Under his noncommittal gaze, I loop a red thread around his fingertips, pressing one red lip against his chest. The other, I keep in my hand.

MC: Let's see who can snatch away the other's 'red lips' first. I may not be able to beat you at chess, but I'm still quite confident in this kind of little game—

Before I even finish speaking, I feel a sudden tug on my fingertip.

I turn my head in surprise and find that Lucien has already firmly grasped the “red lips” in my hand.

MC: ….

Isn't this too fast?!

I laugh in spite of myself as I turn my head back, meeting that gaze filled with a hint of smugness and mischief.

MC: [pouts] So you really have such a high desire to win.

Lucien: Of course.

He gives a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, and purposefully tightens his grip on the red lips, but doesn't take it away.

Lucien: But compared to winning, I find myself savoring this moment even more.

Lucien: A well-matched opponent... makes the competition itself more enjoyable.***

Gazing deeply into his calm, smiling eyes, I can't help but hook my finger around his tie, pulling myself closer to drown in their depths.

MC: But... when I really think about it…

MC: Lucien, have I ever won against you?

Lucien: [chuckles] What do you think?

His dark, ink-like eyes glimmer with interest, yet remain extraordinarily serious as they're waiting for my answer.

MC: I don't know.

MC: Sometimes I feel like I've never won, because it seems that even when I use all my strength, I'm only just engaging in a match with you, still a distance away from victory.

MC:  Sometimes I feel like I've won, but those instances don't seem to count as ‘winning or losing’.

The shimmering light of the waves drowns in the depths of his tender gaze, making me fall into those eyes just by looking at them.

Lucien: [sincerely] You've won against me many times.

Lucien: Sometimes, even when I fight back with everything I have, I still can't overcome you.

He smiles, a little helplessly, yet with a hint of willing surrender in his expression.

MC: Am I really that powerful?

Lucien: [chuckles] Mm. Besides, whenever I'm playing with MC, the rules, the strategies, winning or losing… none of it holds any significance anymore.

Lucien: I think, maybe you're just naturally talented at turning everything into the world's most fun game, making people want to keep playing…

Before I know it, he has silently wound a red thread around us, like the unbreakable red thread of fate. Greedily, I wind it tighter, until my fingertips touch his.****

MC: So, can I take that to mean that Professor Lucien enjoys playing with me the most?

Lucien: [chuckles] If I said yes…

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Would you be willing to play with me forever, MC?

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: “You always keep your head down when we play chess. It seems like I haven't seen your eyes in a long time.”- By seeing her eyes, he confirms that she’s also ‘looking’ at him, paying attention to him. He's basically saying that she's so absorbed in chess that she seems to haven't looked at him for so long🥺 Although he's saying this in a lighthearted way, it also hints at his longing for her attention 🤧

**: This highlight how MC hasn't paid much attention that now his hair has grown longer without her noticing u.u

***: 旗鼓相当 (qí gǔ xiāng dāng) - "Evenly matched" or "well-matched." This idiom literally translates to battle flags and drums being of equal strength, symbolizing that both sides in a competition are equally capable or have the same chance of winning. It also implies mutual respect for the opponent, recognizing them as a worthy rival.

****: The red string/thread of fate! In the East, it conveys a sense of destined love. Lucien being the one who silently wounds it around them, he takes the initiative to establish the bond between them, but it is loosely at first, as if inviting her to be the one who tightens it. He’s not just forcing a bond; he’s creating an opportunity for her to choose how close they want to be. And longingly and greedily, she tightens the bond because she wants them to be as close as possible 🥺 Love is always a two-way street that requires active participation from two sides 🤧. Along with his “childish” proposal, you could also interpret it as a “trap” that he weaves for the two of them, but it’s one that neither of them wants to escape from 😂

✂———————–

[Moments- Emotional Expression]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing childishness can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: Do you also feel this way?

Lucien: Of course. In front of you, I often can't help but want to act a little spoiled.

[Reply 2]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing a ‘childish’ side can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: Does Professor Lucien like this way of expressing emotions?

Lucien: Mm, if lovers can freely show their childishness, it might mean their relationship has entered a new stage.

[Reply 3]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing a ‘childish’ side can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: I agree! Sometimes I want to act like a little kid in front of you~

Lucien: You have always been my little friend.

[T/N]

While "childishness" has a negative connotation in English, it carries a more neutral and sometimes even endearing connotation in Chinese. In this context, it conveys a sense of playfulness and innocence rather than pure immaturity👀

✂———————–

[Lux's Afterwords]

Not gonna lie, when I first read it, I felt a bit disappointed because this date seems to emphasize Lucien's victories despite being promoted as an "evenly matched game." 😂 However, after reading it a second time, I think I understand what the writers are trying to convey with this date (Also thank God at least they show this ‘evenly matched’ aspect in his Halloween date LOL).

I think this date is really trying to showcase Lucien's mischievous and “childish” side, reminiscent of his childhood before everything changed after the car accident 🤧 As we know from the R&S (that I shared before the beginning of the date- go read it if you haven't ahah), he was a gentle and quiet kid, yet there’s also that little “bad” streak in him. As a child, he loved teasing Fan Zihang (Zack in EN localization), and now he’s shifted that teasing to his girlfriend🤣 although there's still an obvious double standard like him still willing to go easy on her from time to time~

Just like what his reply in the moments said, a partner showing ‘childishness’ might mean that the relationship is entering a new stage. The fact that he can show this side of himself means he feels comfortable enough with MC to let his guard down. It’s like he’s letting her see a glimpse of the genuine him, the one who can be mischievous and has a high desire to win, just like he was as a kid. Perhaps…this is the kind of person he would have become if his parents were still alive. From being indifferent and distant, the snow is melting and he's entering a new spring in his life🤧

Then, reflecting on how the date mostly highlights his victories, I think Lucien’s not letting her win easily isn’t just about his mischief or his strong desire to win. He also hopes to challenge her with, make her understand, and eventually surpass his true capabilities 🥺. What MC says (“That way, I can see how far I still have to go before I can beat you.”) emphasizes this point. His display of true strength is meant to motivate her, not discourage her. He’s willing to give her a taste of victory, making the game more enjoyable regardless of winning or losing, and is even willing to teach her how to beat him. After all... an evenly matched opponent makes competition all the more enjoyable.

Furthermore, Lucien sincerely acknowledges that there are times when he can't win against her even when he fights with all of his might. Although it feels hollow if we only based it on the date alone, there are many, many instances of him ‘losing’ to her in previous dates and main stories- one instance that I can think of is this line from The Sea No Longer Distant MQ:

He feels as if she has left him far behind, as if she knows more things that he cannot comprehend.

He’s helpless to such outcomes, yet willing to surrender (coming from someone with such a strong desire to win... if this isn’t love, I don’t know what is). The result doesn’t matter as much as just enjoying the moment together🥺 Lastly, let's talk about his last line.

MC愿意永远和我一起玩下去吗? (Would you be willing to play with me forever, MC?)

With this date revolving around games and his ‘childishness’, the closing line is perfect ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ 永远 (forever) is a heavy word, and it turns this seemingly playful line into something like an earnest yet almost childlike proposal 🥺. Through this, he’s expressing a wish for her lifelong companionship and commitment. There’s also an underlying vulnerability here—by asking for "forever”, Lucien hints at a deeper hope that she’ll stay by his side, to keep ‘playing’ with him until the end of life and more🤧