#I watched the bodyguard and line of duty and now I’m watching the fall like for why

[6ebe]

I need to stop watching British crime dramas

[chiwhorei]

gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[dourpeep]

hear me out… xiao and kazuha as reader’s bodyguards and 💏‼️ i’m not saying reader should prepare for trouble and make it double but i am saying that things could get a little…. 😏

(This got lost in my drafts I'M SORRY)

YES YES YES oh my god yes

How could I have been so blind...KazuXiaoReader but with them being Reader's bodyguards--If we return to that idea of Knight!Xiao with you as his Lord, perhaps due to status or safety, you were actually instead assigned two knights/guards?

I also did more of a meeting/how the feelings grew instead (SORRY)

Both are dedicated and incredibly loyal, always right beside you to ensure your safety

Between Xiao's careful watch and Kazuha's uncanny ability to sense the slightest change in surroundings, it's safe to say that they have all the bases covered

Certainly unnerving for anyone with ill intent toward you to be faced with either of the two quiet men

But their solemnity is paired with the unlikely sweetness that you have, always so thoughtful of them despite having the ability to leave them to their work

Asking if they're feeling well when they greet you in the mornings, ensuring that they're comfortable on particularly long travels, cupping their cheeks following a scuffle to check for their well being

You have no obligation to do this, but...you do

And this quickly warms them to your presence

"There's a scratch-"

The pad of your thumb brushes just below the thin red line on Xiao's cheek, your brows furrowed and concern painted over your features. Any objections from either of your dear knights fell upon deaf ears in lieu of a soft, damp, handkerchief. Gently, you wipe at the graze.

"There. Does it hurt? Sting?" He shakes his head, a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

But it wasn't always quite like this

Before this settled comfort, you first met Xiao

He was abrasive, opting away from your touch because it'd impede his ability to do his job

So you let him be, giving him the space that he required

Weeks turn to months and you find out, entirely by coincidence, he has a soft spot for a certain sweet dessert

You could see the way his features relax, lifting a spoonful of it to his mouth and relishing in the sweetness, the texture of the tofu

It wasn't really anything special, but you could tell that he attached sentimentality to it

Within the very week, you ensured that you'd bring him another plate

It sits on the wooden top of the table, pristine. A twinge of sadness sparks at the fact that it hasn't been touched. Should you have said that it's for him?

When you leave the sitting room of your quarters, you come back to the dish empty and a simple note with "thank you" scrawled out on it

Xiao is in the room, carefully guarding the door

This exchange, though small, becomes a staple ritual each week until he finally accepts your invitation to sit with you for a meal

You've known Xiao now for a little under a year when you are assigned another guard along side him

Within the country, tensions have grown and to dissuade any possible dangers, the decision has been made for you

At first, Xiao isn't too keen on the idea

Apparently, this particular man has a tarnished reputation, someone who should have fled to prevent his damnation, but instead...

You are met with a soft-spoken and gently smiling Kazuha

"Have you been well, my Lord?"

Every evening, Kazuha joins you on your walk in the gardens, a hand settled over the hilt of his sword and mien serene. When you settle down on a bench, you pat the space beside you. He inclines his head and sits beside you.

Xiao is always close by, though favoring to stay behind so that he might survey the surrounding areas

It goes unsaid that he wishes to join you so close

And on a warm summer evening, he does

He finds that he enjoys the poetry (if not sometimes left half-finished) that Kazuha comes up with and amusement at his ability to create music with a stray leaf found

Your silent companion also discovers that you've taken quite the liking to him

A few different feelings swirl in his chest, but he keeps them within

A guard should not be feeling this way towards his charge

But your gentle touch and unyielding sweetness...

Meanwhile, Kazuha feels the same, it showing in the way that his touch lingers on your shoulder when he has to guide you past a crowd or the way that his expression immediately softens when you walk in the room

He's more honest with his feelings, though doesn't act on them

Kazuha shifts on his side, red eyes peering at Xiao beside him. You're within the room they're standing guard for which allows for a brief opportunity for conversation.

"They're lovely, are they not?" He muses, careful to watch the other's reactions.

Needless to say, you feel the same way too

Falling so, so slowly, so sweetly for Xiao and being swept up in Kazuha's warm smile and flowery words

In the silence of your room, you splash some water on your face, squeezing your eyes shut

Surely...you cant?

But you're unable to place these overwhelming feelings for your two gentle guards aside

One day, when in the gardens, you stop. This takes both of them by surprise, making them question if something is wrong

When you worry at your lip, they fall silent

You're in love with them

From here, things get complicated, as you're swept up in your duties, but they stick by your side and stay ever loyal

The fact that you're in love with them both doesn't leave their minds

Neither really knew how to continue--if they should continue. But the reciprocation was painfully clear.

Between them, as well.

With the uncertain feelings that Xiao feels towards Kazuha, he can't help but wonder...perhaps? Perhaps there was something there as well? But past Kazuha's tender smile, quips, and musings, he couldn't tell.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Hi, can i request for Jaehyun’s smut? Jaehyun as yn’s bodyguard who happened already have girlfriend.

Pairing: bodyguard!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: a bit of angst, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: infidelity, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this is the second bodyguard request i got, and i was considering connecting it to the first one but finally decided not to. anyways, hope you like it anon!

He was forbidden, and maybe that’s why you wanted him so badly. Forbidden, not only because he worked for your family, but also because he was taken.

But it didn’t make you want him less, in fact, it made you want him more. Not to mention that he was gorgeous, with looks that were known to stop women in their tracks, whispers amongst the household staff that you were already screwing him, so who were you to deny the truth to their rumors?

He was oh so respectable though, never an errant hand, not a hair out of place or a tie askew. He was all manners and formalities and ‘Miss this’ and ‘Miss that’, no deviation from the professionalism that your father had hired him for.

He didn’t even entertain calls or texts from his girlfriend during work hours, but you knew he’d get them, seeing his watch flash or hearing his phone buzz. His strict and steely demeanor was perfect for his job as a bodyguard, but you were dying to know what lay under that facade.

One night you decided to find out, calling him to say you were going out. He met you in the garage, ready to drive you as was customary. He stood by the car, hands clasped in front of him, looking as handsome as ever in his black suit. His hair was pushed back, just the way you liked it, with only a few strands falling onto his forehead.

“Jaehyun,” you nodded to him, getting into the back seat. He nodded back to you before he got into the driver’s side and pulled out of the garage.

You instructed him to drive, giving him directions here and there, until you reached your destination; an outlook outside the city, popular amongst anyone looking for an illicit tryst.

Jaehyun parked the car and waited for further instruction, not bothering to turn to you or ask. You leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Please join me in the back seat.”

He didn’t flinch or question your instruction, just joined you as instructed, sliding into the seat with you and closing the door behind him. You studied his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the smooth lines of his milky skin. He didn’t meet your gaze yet, his face just turning to you when you heard his phone buzz. As usual, he didn’t pay any attention to it.

“Your girlfriend?” you asked, and he just nodded.

“Does she know you’re with me?” you asked, your tone matter-of-fact, and he nodded again.

Deciding to test the waters, you reached out and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t recoil, didn’t really react, and this emboldened you. “Does she know… what we’re doing?”

He paused, and for the first time you saw a crack in the façade. He was almost hesitant to speak, but when he finally did, it was just to say a simple ��no’.

“Would you tell her,” you continued, your hand moving up his thigh, “if we did anything we shouldn’t?”

“Like what, Miss L/N?” he asked. His voice was steady, but you could see a glint of something in his eye.

“Like, maybe if I went further than here,” you’d stopped your hand, so close to the bulge that was forming in his pants.

“I don’t need to disclose anything I do at work,” he responded, voice still steady, but a smirk was forming on his lips. You moved your hand then, cupping his impressive bulge, and the façade all but fell away. His eyes grew dark, and before you knew what was happening he had you on your back, pinning you to the seat with the weight of his body. All breath left you when he started to attack your throat, licking and sucking on your skin.

“Is this what you wanted, Miss L/N?” his breath was hot against your neck, your hand still cupping his bulge so you squeezed. He hissed, his hands getting even rougher on you.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you moaned, loving the way he was manhandling you, “but please call me Y/N.”

“Yes, miss Y/N,” he responded smoothly, hands roaming over your curves.

“No, just Y/N…” you were trying to correct him, trying to make everything more intimate than it was, not wanting him to think it was part of his duty to fuck you, but his touch was rendering you mindless, pleasure taking over all the rational parts of your brain.

“Y/N,” he finally murmured, your name so beautiful on his tongue that it made your heart stutter. He kissed down your chest, the low neckline of your shirt allowing him ample access to your cleavage, his hands going under the hem to relieve you of your bra. Once your breasts were bared to him he attacked the nipples hungrily, sucking each one into his mouth and releasing them with a popping sound, the feeling making you gasp out loud.

“Do you want more?” he asked, when you were panting, your hair mussed and makeup smudged, looking fucked out already and all he did was kiss you and suck on your nipples.

“Mm,” you nodded, biting your lip as he started to remove your pants and underwear. He put an arm under each knee and yanked you towards him, leaning down to eat you out.

Your back arched off the seat, hands clawing at the leather as he licked voraciously, the sounds he was making loud and obscene in the confines of the backseat. You were a whimpering, whining, moaning mess, his tongue pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. He seemed to have infinite stamina, still going until you had to weakly push at his head when you’d had too much. Somewhere in the back of your head you were extremely jealous of his girlfriend, who could enjoy this whenever she wanted, and not secretly, in the backseat of a car at some shady lookout point.

“I don’t have a condom, miss- Y/N,” he said in his usual level tone. You knew this should have stopped you, but you wanted him too badly.

“I trust you,” you shrugged, “I’m clean, and I’ve had an IUD for years.”

He paused for only a second, most likely going through the same thought process you had gone through, and also coming to the same conclusion. You reached over and undid his pants for him, pulling the waistband of his boxers down and freeing his cock. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of it, a beautiful cock for a beautiful man.

“Come here and fuck me, Jaehyun,” you commanded, and he nodded, a dark look in his eyes as he leaned over you

“Can I kiss you, miss Y/N?” he asked, but his face was so close to yours he might as well have been. You just answered by capturing his bottom lip lightly with your teeth, then sucking on it, making him groan into your mouth and slide into you at the same time.

You’d often wondered what he would feel like inside you, when you would masturbate in the shower you would think of his cock and how it must feel, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He was rock hard, and he filled you so full you thought you would burst, but that wasn’t all. You already knew his stamina was off the charts, but it was the way he would snap his hips, or angle your hips a certain way so he could hit you exactly where he wanted, exactly in that spot that made you scream his name.

“You like it?” he groaned as he pounded into you, “you like my cock?”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you moaned, barely able to speak with the way his thrusts took your breath away. He brought your knees up to your chest and pounded even harder, the car filled with the sounds of your moans as you reached your high, your legs shaking and pussy clenching. Jaehyun went even harder after you came, chasing his own high, the sexiest grunts emanating from his throat as he railed you.

“Can I come inside you?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against your chest.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you almost screamed, feeling another orgasm hit you. He came then, his hands squeezing your ass to bring you even closer to him, to get even deeper inside you, spilling his cum until you were full with it, until it was leaking down your thighs and onto the leather seats.

You breathed heavily against each other for a while, until he finally pulled himself off of you. A part of you hated it, a part of you wanted him to hold you a while longer, a part of you wanted him to spend the night, to wake up in his arms. A part of you just wanted him. You stared out the window at the stars, feeling jealous of his girlfriend again, as he dressed quietly. When he was done he stayed where he was, presumably waiting for your next command.

“Thank you, Jaehyun,” you said coldly, trying to mask the emotion in your voice. “We can go now.”

He hesitated, and for a moment the professional demeanor wavered. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You looked at him, at the soft look in his eyes, and you wanted so much for him just to take you in his arms again. But his phone buzzed at that moment, and you knew exactly who it was.

“Take the call, Jaehyun,” you said quietly, “I’m okay.”

---

Thanks for 1.4k :)

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 2 // the home away from home

leon regenerated before you, and he started looking for you in the tree line. eventually catching sight of you, the two of you made eye contact, but you didn't come to the campsite. instead, you ran off in another direction, and leon had to follow you into the fog.

genre: angst, attempted fluff

tags: leon tries to help you, touch starved reader, cuddling, nightmares, jill may be ooc- idk how to write her in this situation tbh 😭

warnings: nightmares, ptsd themes, mentions of bullying, violence and death

---

leon peeked into the small shack you inhabited in the woods. you had decorated it how you like and was quite cozy. you seemed busy, digging through your belongings that you kept in a chest. gently, the blonde knocks on your doorframe and you jump with a gasp, spinning around to see your fellow survivor. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." leon smiles sheepishly. "did anyone see you?!" you ask desperately, worry filling your eyes. "no, they were busy at the campsite." the cop furrows his brows, shuffling from foot to foot. "can i come in?" leon asks, keeping his voice soft. "i guess.." you mumble, remembering how desperate he was to help you. "nice place." his comment makes you a little flustered, and you look away bashfully. "thanks." you reply, sitting back down and continuing to sort supplies into med-kits and toolboxes.

leon sits behind you and crosses his legs, watching you carefully, something that made you grow nervous. "you have so much stuff." the blonde chuckles, hoping to ease your anxiety. "yeah... i used to hoard stuff for the other survivors before everything went bad." you shrug, "i see. perhaps we could help each other then." leon smiles, grabbing one of your med-kits to help. you let out a soft oh, glancing at the blonde on your right to carefully watch him. "hm?" he looks back at you and you fluster more, looking away. leon laughs a little, continuing to organise the kit how you were doing it. "you don't have to be so shy. i don't understand what's going on here yet, but i can keep you safe." leon says softly, glancing over at you again as he zips up the med kit. your lack of response makes the man nervous, and he gently rests his hand on your arm, hating how you flinch.

"i'll keep you safe, no matter what happens here. i'll help you and anyone else if they need it." leon's smile stumps you and you feel like crying. "you shouldn't even be here... if they find us then god knows what they'll do.." you whisper, putting your supplies away. "if who finds you?" leon asks, rubbing your arm softly. "them! all of them... anyone out there." you shudder, pulling your arm away as you move away slightly. "hey.. no one will hurt you, okay? i'll keep you safe. it's my duty, you have my word." he smiles sadly, pulling you against his chest to hug you. your breath catches in your throat, and you tense up. "it's okay. i'm gonna keep you safe." leon assures you, coddling your much smaller, malnourished form against his chest. you whimper softly, tears welling up in your eyes as you try to wiggle away from his burning touch. "it's okay.." leon soothes you, his fingers wiping away any tears.

eventually, you relax, clinging to his police vest with a few soft sobs. "is it really this bad?" leon whispers, his heart hurting for you. "yes..!" you cry, letting him hold you tightly. "hey, i have an idea." leon admits, and you hum softly, wet face staring up at him. "i can be your bodyguard so to speak, and my friend jill can keep you safe if i'm ever away." he smiles, seemingly happy with his suggestion. "i don't want anyone else getting hurt though.." letting out a small breath, you let his calloused, warm hand rest on your cheek, wiping away any tears. "we'll keep you safe and we have professional training in self defence. you shouldn't worry your pretty head." leon smiles at you, and you can't help but circle your arms around his waist to hold him closer. "thank you..." you whisper over and over again, a mantra that makes leon feel saddened for you.

"get some rest, you look like you need it." leon hushes your grateful rambling, and you fall silent as you huddle impossibly closer yet your eyes glance up at him for confirmation. "go on, i'll be here when you wake up. i'll keep you safe." the blonde assures you, and moves with you so he could bundle you up in your actually comfy cot. when the cop goes to sit down somewhere else, you sit up suddenly and catch his wrist. "don't go..." you beg, trying to pull him back to you. "please... please don't go..!" leon acts quickly as your breathing picks up. "okay, okay. i'll sit with you instead of on the floor." the officer smiles, heading back towards your bed.

when leon sits down, you can't help but try to press yourself under his arm so he would cuddle you. laughing at your attempt to slip under his arm like a needy kitten, leon wraps his arm around you securely. "you don't need my permission for this, y'know?" leon smiles, finding cute how you warmed up to his affection, however he couldn't help but also worry at your naivety to any positive touches. the officer felt like he had to protect you from any harms way, that he should hide you from the horrors of this world. but alas, all of it was out of his control and that was infuriating. "get some sleep." you hear leon whisper as he pulls your half asleep form up onto his lap and cuddles you against his chest. only humming in response, you eventually drift off and leon lets out a small sigh. "i'll keep you safe. i have to... it's my job!" leon speaks, despite knowing you can't technically hear him. "i have to make sure nothing happens to you whether it kills me or not. you're too precious." the blonde continues to monologue, before his own tiredness from a days worth of trials starts to get to him and he drifts off as well.

leon's brows furrow at the small noises that wake him up. he raises his head, neck aching from slouching over in and resting his head on you subconsciously. "y/n..?" he mumbles, becoming more awake when he realises your discomfort. you shuffle in his lap, distressed noises still falling from your lips. "hey, hey hey! it's okay, it's alright." leon shakes your shoulder softly, trying to be gentle with you. "y/n!" he calls a bit louder, finally jerking you awake with a startled inhale. you yelp and fall away from him, scrambling back with a wild look in your upset eyes. "don't hurt me! please don't hurt me!" you beg, keeping your hazy, tear-filled, sleepy eyes locked onto the figure in front of you. "hey, it's just me! it's leon, remember?" leon responds with a soft voice, slowly approaching you as if you were a wild animal. "leon..?" you whimper, blinking a few times and realising that it was in fact the blonde who looked deathly worried.

the man stretches out his arms for you, and you quickly rush for his comfort. you almost knock the poor cop over as you wrap your arms around his torso tightly. "it's okay, i've got you." leon lets out a small breath, rubbing your back as you cry against his uniform. "make it go away..! just make it all stop!" you cry loudly, hands gripping the back of the bullet proof vest leon adorned. "you're safe with me, i promise." leon offers instead, and you continue to shake with each desperate sob. "you poor thing... i'm not going to let anything get you anymore." leon sounds more sure of himself as you slowly calm in his warm embrace.

"please don't leave me alone." you whimper, feeling tired from crying. "i'm not going anywhere, okay? i'll stay with you for as long as i can." the blonde smiled, his fingers coming up to gently brush over your damp cheek. "i'm making it my duty to protect you whilst we try to figure a way out, okay? i'll keep you safe." you let out a sigh at his words. "thank you..." you whisper and the blonde laughs. "you shouldn't be thanking me." leon smiles, raising your head by your chin with his forefinger and thumb so he could look at you properly. you can't help but glance at his lips as he smiles at you, the air becoming more thick woth tension.

"there you are! jesus what the hell's happening in here?" a new, female voice that you didn't recognise chimed in, and the two of you jumped away from each other. "jill! thank god, are you alright?" leon smiles at the woman, and you follow him when he gets up to greet her. "i'm fine. who's this?" jill smiles at you softly. the aura around her was strong yet oddly comforting to you. "this is y/n. i'm going to be protecting them." leon declares to his friend. jill rolls her eyes. "he has quite the hero complex, doesn't he?" she jokes, whispering loudly as if leon couldn't hear her. you don't really respond, shuffling behind your new friend. "jill..." leon sighs, "don't worry, she's also here to help." you look at leon with uncertainty, and he smiles at you.

"sorry, didn't mean to be overbearing. i don't really know what else to do right now as it seems you're quite stressed. i'm jill valentine." the pretty woman extends her hand for you to shake, but you fully hide behind leon at her gesture. "be careful, they show signs of ptsd." leon scolds, and you feel a sense of comfort wash over your heavy mind. "oh! sorry... i'm still yet to find out what's going on here." jill laughs sheepishly, retracting her hand. "y/n, it's okay. jill's trustworthy." leon soothes you by taking his hand in yours, slowly coaxing you out to greet the woman.

"hello." jill smiles, now keeping her actions and tone soft to ensure she won't scare you. "hi..." you mumble, grabbing leon's wrist with your other hand for any sense of security. leon smiles, and looks back at jill. "jeez, they've really warmed up to you, huh?" jill jokes, and you're quick to jump to leon's defence. "he helps me!" you snap, but shrink back once you realise your outburst. leon rubs the back of your hand with his thumb comfortingly, and you relax slightly, but not fully. "it's alright. i didn't mean anything by it." jill raises her hands in faux surrender. "sorry..." leon says for you, as you seemed to have regressed to silence. "it's completely fine. nothing i haven't seen or dealt with before. i've got thick skin." jill smiles at you, and you feel your lungs deflate with relief that she isn't mad at you.

"come sit down, jill. we'll explain." leon gestures to the cot as you rest your head on his bicep. "sure." jill shrugs, following the two of you in, and settling down on the other end of the makeshift bed. when leon sits with his back against the wall, you curl up into his side, still uncertain of jill's company as the blonde speaks to her about what he's gathered so far.

[lonely-teddy-bear]

hi, can you do a harry as yn's bodyguard au (dunkirk harry era) where he's assigned to yn which takes away yn's freedom and yn hates him but he gets shot protecting yn one day and she kinda falls in love with him while he's unconscious

a/n: You didn't put what y/n is in order to get a body guard so daughter of the mafia leader it is :) so hope you enjoy!! took me like 3 nights since i had to study during the day so if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry.

*y/f/n = your friends name

word count: 3.32k

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

I had thought I didn't have any freedom before but now? I for sure didn't have any. I couldn't help but to send a glare towards the tall men that was in a black suit standing by my fathers desk.

"Y/n are you even listening to me?" I looked away from Mr.Styles and looked at my father. As much as I love him why did he have to be my father? Why couldn't I be a normal girl with a normal boring life?

"Sorry what were you saying?" He looked at me in annoyance.

"I said that Mr. Styles here is going to go everywhere you go even if it's in this house. He will sleep across the room from yours and he will only trust one of his men to stay outside your room door when he is sleeping. You must ask him permission to go anywhere outside this house and if you have a problem with his answer you can call me and ask me yourself. Understood?"

Geez he might as well tell me he is going to wash me in the shower and join me to every personal encounter. How will I even go out with other guys if I have this giant with me.

"Yes father, I understand." I so wanted to glare at my father but I knew better than to do that.

My father looked to my new body guard, "Now I trust you to put your life in danger for my daughter, if she gives you any problem you can punish her in any way you want just don't hurt her to the points she bleeds got it?" My eyes widened causing me to yell at my father which I have never done.

"What! He can punish me? You barely have ever laid a hand on me on my entire life and you're going to let this stranger to lay his filthy hands on me?" I angrily pointed at Mr. Styles who was now glaring at me.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me young lady. He will not hurt you physically and if he does then you call me. I trust him y/n and I know you don't but try to learn to trust him."

I let out a huge sigh and sat down on the chair because I just could stand this shit.

"Alright so I am going to be away for some time but Harry will be here for you in my behalf got it?" I rolled my eyes and looked at Harry who was no looking at me.

I got to admit, he was a good looking guy, tall, dark hair, green eyes, looked well build but I couldn't help but to hate him. I know it wasn't his fault but he was gonna be the reason I won't be having a life anymore.

***********

I didn't bother going out for the next two weeks, mostly because I was being petty. My father would call on the daily asking how I was and because I was mad at him too I would just give short answers. I later found out that Mr. Styles or Harry which he told me to call him by, didn't like it when I was being rude to my father.

I didn't talk to Harry for those two week unless it was for some help that I needed, he was tall which came in handy in this giant house that was all for myself.... and Harry.

The first time I heard his voice was when my father was calling me and I was still sleeping, it was ten in the morning and he was screaming at me to call my father. I didn't register his voice at first because I was pissed about him yelling at me so early in the morning and because he had barged in to my room without knocking. The moment it hit me that I had heard his voice I had stopped pouring myself fruit loops into a plate and turned to look at Harry which was watching me. I had quickly looked away because he scared me somehow.

Now today was Saturday and my one and only friend was texting me none stop about how we should go to a club. I was sitting out in the patio in a random beach chair we had when I looked towards Harry which was standing with his hands in his back looking around the yard.

"Hey." He turned to me in a snap. I signaled him to come closer towards me, forgetting that I was only in a bathing suit so I could tan.

"What," so much for being nice huh?

"Can I go to a club with a friend?" He stared at me for a minute, not looking away from my eyes. At least he was respectful.

"Who's this friend?" Something about him talking with an accent makes me forget who he was and sometime would cause me to blush. He somehow always sounded like a protective boyfriend who was jealous twenty-four/seven.

"Its my only friend that I have known since I was little. So can I or can I not go to a club with her?" I saw him take a deep breath and I swear I saw his eyes drift down to my body but looked at my eyes real quick.

"No," without letting me say a word he turned around and went back to where he was standing.

"What do you mean no?" I got up from the chair and made my way over to stand in front of him. I had to look up to him because he was taller than me, like way taller.

He looked down at me, a stern look on his face. "I mean no, clubs aren't safe." I let out a huff and lI couldn't help but to roll my eyes at him. Which was a mistake because the minute after I rolled my eyes I felt his hand on my neck making my hands to grab his hand in reflex.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me princess. You may do it to your father but you will not do it to me. You will not go to the club and thats final," he let go of my neck kind of ruff, causing me to stumble back. I stared at him in shock. I didn't know if to scream at him, call my father or feel turned on.

"I'm telling my father about this." He looked at me with a smirk and his eyebrows raised.

"Go ahead but if you do I won't take you to the club." I looked at him confused.

"But you said no," this man is so confusing.

"Yeah but if you behave then maybe I'll take you," he raised his brows in a quick motion and then looked down at his phone.

"I'd suggest you go get ready since we're going out soon." I didn't even bother arguing with him I just bolted into the house. I didn't bother looking back to see if he was following me because he was always following me.

*******

I was four shots in and I was ready to dance with y/f/n* but thanks to a giant man that wouldn't leave my side I couldn't.

"Come on Harry either you let me go dance or you join me!" I yelled over the music hoping he would hear me. He looked down at me and then around the club, I didn't know what he was looking for but he looked back at me and nodded. I couldn't help but to smile because at least I would be able to dance. Before heading to the floor I grabbed a shot from the table offering it to Harry first who shook his head letting down the offer.

"Right, work duty," I said, before shrugging and taking the shot.

I grabbed Harry's hand without looking at him and pulled him towards the dance floor. I pushed through everyone and stopped when I saw y/f/n dancing with some guy. I send her a smile and a thumbs up while she glanced at Harry and did the same gesture towards me.

I turned around to look at Harry and saw that he was looking around.

"Harry lighten up a bit. Let's just dance don't worry we'll be fine," he stared at me but not before glancing around again.

I started feeling the alcohol ruling my body causing me to start dancing to the loud music. I turned around dancing feeling the heat of the other people around me, I could feel the sweat already but then jumped when I felt hands on my hips. I turned slightly around to see it was Harry who was grabbing my hips, looking at me. I smiled at him and pushed myself back towards hip. I moved my hips, grinding on hip feeling his hands grab me tighter on the hips. He pulled me closer feeling him move my hips to the sound of the music. I felt him bury his face in my neck making me move my head to the side so I could look at him. He was looking at me with this spark in his eye. At this moment I didn't hate him anymore because I was looking at my bodyguard who didn't let me do anything. All the no's I had gotten from him but came to the club with me this one time.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the presence of his body behind me and kept dancing to the music. I could feel the sweat of both of us mix but I didn't care.

The high was suddenly lost. It happened all to quick. I was dancing with Harry behind me when he suddenly turned us around. A loud sound went off causing everyone to scream. I had closed my eyes, my hands going over to cover my ears in reflex. I fell to the floor with Harry behind me causing me to scream. I didn't know what was happening until I saw the other bodyguard Harry decided to bring along pulling me from under Harry. The bodyguard was screaming into his wrist looking around while he held me against him. I looked around in frantic and then at the floor to see Harry laying down. I screamed pulling away from the bodyguard that was holding me  and ran towards him. I got down to my knees so I could be on the floor with him. I touched his back but pulled back, screaming to the blood that was in my hands. I went to roll Harry over and heard him grunt.

He had his eyes closed when I first looked at his face. Sweat was around his hair line and I couldn't help but to ouch his hair away from his face. He was looking pale which meant he was loosing blood. I went over to press on his wound and looked back to the other bodyguard.

"Call an ambulance he's losing blood!"

*********

I had gotten an earful from my father over the phone. I probably went deaf from one ear because of him, not even the music from the club was that loud.

I had gotten the parents talk. "Why did you go out to a club!"

"Why weren't you more careful!"

"Couldn’t you have y/f/n over instead?"

I didn't have a response to the the others but I did to the last one.

"I mean I could have but where was the fun in that." He screamed my name so loud my phone fell to the floor. This man had a voice so loud I swear the whole hospital heard him over the phone.

"I'm sorry daddy, I should have listened to Harry. I'm sorry. I already feel bad enough that he got shot in the back because of me." Luckily my father knew about Harry saying no to me the first time so he wasn't mad at him but at me for pretty much forcing him to take me to the club.

"You should really listen next time. This is what happens when you don't listen y/n. You got Harry shot and I'm not blaming you but you can't just have a normal life. You are in grave danger half the time because of me." Well at least he's aware it's his fault I don't have a life.

I looked up to look at Harry, holding my phone on my ear. He looked better, unconscious but better. He had gone into surgery right away, losing a lot of blood but they were able to remove the bullet from his body and give him blood that they luckily had around and enough of.

"Dad it's okay. I know you did this for me, I just wanted one night out of the house and feel normal. Maybe I'll go on a trip next time," I just received a sigh from the other end.

"How am I going to get it through your head that this world isn't safe?" I chuckled in response because he always told me the same thing.

"I love you dad. I'll call you once Harry is awake okay?"

I hanged up on him after telling me how I'll have the other body guard that has been with me since the incident until Harry recovers and then bit me goodbye.

I couldn't help but to let out a sigh and look at Harry. I got up from the couch that was in the room and walked over to the side of his bed.

I couldn't help but to look at his facial features.

He didn't look scary, he looked like any normal guy, a good looking one that is. I wonder how he came to be a bodyguard to a mafia leader. I looked down at his arms seeing how he didn't have sleeved covering them but instead saw how he had tattoos.

I couldn't help to look over every tattoo he had in his arms. Did he have more over his body? I blushed at the thought of seeing the rest of him.

I looked back over to his face seeing how peaceful he looked. I felt a tear slide down my face. I felt so back that he got shot because of me.

I cried for the rest of the night. I don't remember when I fell asleep but I didn't wake up until the next day in the after noon. The sun was going down already and I couldn't help but notice how I had t showered nor changed.

I asked the other bodyguard if he could somehow get me new clothes and decided to shower in the bathroom that was connected to Harry's room. I don't think he would be using it anytime soon.

While I was showering I heard someone knock on the door and a nurse announced herself, letting me know she would put the extra clothes on the counter. After showering and changing into some sweatpants and a t-shirt I made sure to wash my teeth with the tooth brush that the nurse had brought along with other things I would need.

I was now sitting by Harry, looking at him. It might look creepy towards others but I couldn't help but to just look at him. He was gorgeous in a way that would make you think he was some type of angel.

I had spend since day one hating him for not letting me go anywhere but I should have at least tried to get on his good side.

I couldn't help but to blush at the memory of him grabbing me by the neck and calling me princess. The way he was looking at me made me feel some type of way and I knew I shouldn't be feeling this way towards him.

"Are you blushing?" I jumped at the voice of Harry. It was raspy, causing him to start coughing. I got up and got a cup of water and placed a straw in it to make it easier for him to drink.

Once I placed it in front of him he drank until he pushed it away from him. I placed the cup on the table that was next to him. I sat back down and looked at him who was staring at me.

"Why were you blushing? Was it because of me?" My eyes widened at his accusation.

"Why would I be blushing because of you?" He slightly shrugged.

"You were looking at me so it was the only explanation for your blushing. Unless..." He gave me this smirk. Was he being playful with me at this moment? Because I have never seen him smirk at me, let alone smile.

"Unless what?" I really hope he doesn't say something silly about me having a crush on him.

"You didn't catch feelings for me because I saved you. Right?" I furrowed my brows and looked at him as if he had hit his head. Maybe the shot gave him some type of trauma to the head, because he couldn't have hit his head since he fell on me.

"Um no, isn't that like Stockholm syndrome or something?" I scuffed. I looked away from Harry trying to hide the fact that I was blushing. Why did I have to blush all the time?

"Not technically because I didn't abduct you or abuse you. It would be more like the rescuer effect, but then again if you didn't like me why are you blushing again?" I looked back at him and gave him a glare. He was smirking at me because he knew, I know that he knows but I don't want him to know that I may have some type of feeling for him.

"Also your cries and screams really won't convince me that you don't have any feelings because you sounded like someone that would care for me," I wanted to slap that smirk from his face.

"What else would I do? You got shot because of me the least I could do was try to save you," I rolled my eyes at him and crossed my arms. He was better when he wouldn't talk at all.

He didn’t respond but just stared at me. I don’t know if it was me but i felt some tension in the room. I needed to get out of this room, like right now.

“I’m going to go get a nurse,” i mumbled and got up but Harry’s hand stopped me by my wrist. I turned around and looked at him with a questioning look. “Thank you for being here and don’t blame yourself. This is my job after all. To protect you.” I didn’t say anything but gave him a small smile. i could already feel the blush on my cheeks.

I pulled my hand away and made my way over to the door so I could find a nurse. “Y/n?”

I stopped right before I stepped out of the room and turned to look at Harry again.

“I to have a crush on you, so don’t be shy about it.” I didn’t think his words would make me feel this way but they did. I could feel the butterflies on my stomach and the heat on my cheeks. I quickly turned around leaving the room as fast as I could but couldn’t help but to smile when I heard Harry chuckle at my reaction.

I couldn’t help but to think how he too liked me. I probably wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t gotten shot because of me so i’m glad we went out to the club.

[laurelsofhighever]

Alistair x f!Cousland AU

SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE ROSE

--

Almost two years after civil war nearly tore Ferelden apart, Alistair has settled into his role as king despite the cost of the victory. Having come to Orlais to lead trade talks with Empress Celene and representatives from the Free Marches, he hopes to build a stronger future for his people. But grief and guilt still haunt him, the expectations placed on his shoulders cut deep, and to top it all off, there's a stranger in the Winter Palace with the power to shatter his world once again.

With a sigh, the King of Ferelden stared down at the mask in his hands, the red dye a match to the velvet of his cloak and the rich fabric in the rest of his clothes, the royal colours of the Theirin line, and the finely tooled likeness of a mabari snarling out of the leather in an elegant snub for the rules of the Game. A king’s mask ought to be made of gold, after all, as a way to reflect his station, but that scandal would be nothing to the one he planned to cause by not wearing it over his face. Already from below, strains of soft, unobtrusive music drifted above the murmur of voices gathered in the vaulted ballroom of Halamshiral’s Winter Palace, preluding the night’s extravagance. He couldn’t delay much longer in wading into that seething, perfumed mass, however much he wanted to.

Next to him, Fergus Cousland stood arrayed in similar finery. The golden Laurels embroidered into the deep blue velvet of his doublet marked his identity as the Teyrn of Highever, and the shadowed line between his dark brows revealed that his eagerness to attend the party just about matched that of Alistair himself. He caught the king looking, saw the fidget betrayed in his fingers, and drew in a weary breath.

“These talks might be just what it takes to secure lasting peace with Orlais,” he offered, an empty repetition of Alistair’s other advisors. “It’s more than Cailan ever hoped for.”

The king’s lip curled. “You and I both know that’s not the real reason I’m here. I could have left that stuff to Élodie.”

The Arlessa of South Reach had proven a capable ambassador in the time since the end of the civil war against Loghain, using her connections in the Orlesian court to divert the potential wave of old resentments that would have sought to take advantage of Ferelden’s instability as it recovered. It was thanks to her efforts that dignitaries from every Marcher port across the Waking Sea had gathered under the auspicious gaze of Empress Celene in the hopes of formalising a network of trade throughout southern Thedas, and no doubt she was already gliding through their ranks, smoothing the way for her liege lord to grace the crowd and start all the ladies fawning.

Too used to the hopes of noble daughters tilting for a throne, he doubted much of the flattery would be genuine. The only change to the usual pursuit was the fact that Celene now numbered among the hunting party, her desire to win him for herself and Orlais all but common knowledge. At their first meeting that afternoon she had been perfectly polite, but the weight of her gaze on the back of his head as he was shown out to his own apartments had sent a shiver like the lick of cold rain down his spine, and the thought of what she would do with any kind of sovereign power over Ferelden had thoroughly put him off his lunch. There had been a time when, in the entrance hall of Redcliffe Castle and with the warning of a witch ringing in his ears, he had told Rosslyn that the idea of being dangled like bait for political advantage disgusted him. And she had understood his distaste, had reached for his hand with softness in her eyes. He had kissed her hand that night, for the first time.

A sympathetic look from Fergus dragged him out of his contemplation, but thankfully he chose not to repeat the platitudes that had taken to following the king like footprints.

It’s been over a year, almost two, Teagan had scolded. We allowed you time to mourn but you must think of what is best for this country.

Only Fergus really understood. He was the only one in the same position, a lord with a domain left unsecured by the lack of an heir, with those roundabout all but scoffing at his lack of stomach to get one. Shared pain and politics had drawn them together after the army’s return from Ostagar, and now, aside from being a staunch ally in the Landsmeet, he was one of the few Alistair could class as a true friend.

“If I could spurn my duty in this, I would,” he said now.

“But you’re a Cousland.” Humour bled into Alistair’s voice, cold and tinged with grief. “I notice Karyna chose not to come.”

Fergus let his eyes fall closed. “She… ended things between us. She said she wanted to focus on her clinic, but I think part of it was wanting to get out of my shadow, and the expectations of…” a wave of his hand “all of this.”

“I’m sorry.”

He had once broached the subject of changing the law to allow mages to marry, but Fergus had refused, pointing out that what Ferelden needed after a year mired in civil war was stability, not an Exalted March called down because its new king wished to flout the Maker’s supposed Word. Too many would have accused him of playing favourites, too many more who would have raged against the idea of a mage being raised above them – even if Karyna Amell herself came from a line of Marcher nobles. She might be a talented healer dedicated to her people, kind, loyal, and level-headed, but none of that mattered to those who saw any unshackled mage as a prelude to the return of ancient Tevinter.

Fergus waved away his concern and set his own mask in place, pushed back from his forehead. “Let’s get this over with.”

When they appeared at the top of the stairs, the noise level in the whole room dimmed like a door closing on the roar of a great wind. All eyes turned to follow their progress into the melee as Guard-Commander Morrence, Alistair’s right-hand and bodyguard, peeled away from her post by the door and fell into line one pace behind her charge as a dour, watchful shadow. Curtseys and coquettish giggles fluttered up to them, but Alistair ignored them in favour of searching out the form of Élodie Bryland, smiling out from the crowd. Like the rest of the Fereldan entourage, she wore her mask as an accessory rather than a second face, the emerald green of South Reach’s colours rich against her blonde hair.

He felt like a ram walking into a den of blightwolves in broad daylight. Even after so long, so many days he could no longer count them from memory, a shard of his heart stirred in the tattered remains of his chest at the unbidden thought of Rosslyn’s disdain for his current company, the tight, tiny smirk she would have worn hidden at the corner of her mouth for only him to see. Her face was beginning to blur in his mind, but the reminder only ever added more layers to the pain. The pieces flaked away one after the other like rust on a forgotten monument – the sound of her laugh, her scent, the exact shade of her eyes – and every time he noticed another detail by its absence he found himself dragged back to the ruins of Ostagar, staring across the precipice into the void all over again.

Dwelling on his loss amidst the glamour of the Orlesian court would not be wise, however, so he shook himself into courtesy as he followed along after Élodie, smiled at every breezed introduction, and let himself slip into the easy gentility that had so far served him well as king. The meandering currents of conversation carried both him and Fergus at a steady pace to the other side of the vaulted entrance hall, where his left-hand waited for them.

“Ah, there’s my favouritest sneaky person in the world,” he called out when he got close enough for his voice to carry. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

Leliana’s red hair flashed like a beacon as she turned towards him. Unlike Ferelden’s ambassador, she carried her mask on a stick in her gloved hands, and she twirled it up to cover the purse of her smile as she answered. “Your Majesty – Your Lordship. This is a grand assembly tonight, no? Little compares to the full splendour of the Winter Palace.”

“At least not in the way of architecture,” he answered genially. To be polite, he let his gaze wander the rows of gilt pillars with their garlands of blush-roses, the delicate silk streamers hanging from the crystal chandelier. Even more than Élodie, who was Orlesian by birth, Leliana fit in with the glitter, the jewels and the compliments that cut sharper than daggers, and put together, the two of them made a formidable team.

Especially when they joined forces against him.

“Your Majesty, if you will permit me, may I present Lady Ellana Pontival, younger sister to Vicomte Tremane Pontival, and Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, seventy-eighth in line for the throne of Nevarra and the Right-Hand of the Most Holy Divine Beatrix.”

Turning his gaze to the two women, Alistair dipped his head in a customary greeting. If Leliana had set out to find the two most contrasted people in the room, then she had probably succeeded; where one lady seemed about to drown in her layers of ruffled lace and pastel silks, the other cut an austere, imposing figure in the formal uniform of a Seeker of Truth, and like the Fereldans, she went unmasked. The ever-watchful Eye of the Maker, cut through with the Sword of Mercy, peered out from a pin clasped to her shoulder, a sullen reminder that if things had been different, the King of Ferelden would have ended up a templar instead.

“With so many connections, you must be used to parties like this,” he tried. The Seeker held herself with the economy of a soldier at ease, but the pinpoint of her onyx gaze made him itch.

“Hardly,” she said, in low, rich tones. “I am here at the request of Most Holy, who appreciates the unprecedented nature of this gathering. I myself am used to less… lavish surroundings.”

“But how do you find it so far, Majesté?” interrupted Lady Ellana. “Do you find it pleasing?”

He decided not to remark on the breathy quality to her voice, nor the sidelong way she was looking at him, and shrugged. “That would depend on whether we’ll soon have any sign of those – what are they called – cannapays?”

Leliana chuckled. “I’m afraid Your Majesty’s appetite will have to be content for now.”

“I’ve never known a society where it was considered polite not to feed your guests.”

“If one is full of too much heavy food, one cannot properly enjoy the dancing,” Élodie chided, laying a hand on his arm and less amused than her counterpart at his deliberate butchery of her native language.

“Ah.” He suppressed a grimace. “Yes. That.”

The indomitable Lady Ellana pressed forward with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Are you presently engaged, Majesté? For the first dance, I mean.”

Mostly to avoid meeting Fergus’ eye, Alistair cast his gaze out over the crowd. “Oh I’m sure someone has spoken for me.”

“I myself love nothing so much as dancing – and the waltz especially.” An elegant hand rose to cover a laugh. “So charming, yet so daring, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll take your word for it, my lady,” he replied with a forced smile. “It’s not one of my preferred pastimes.” The last time he had danced, it had been his wedding day. If he had known –

Lady Ellana gasped. “How tragic! That truly is a shame.”

The Seeker’s mouth twitched.

“I understand your ascension to society was fairly recent, perhaps you only have yet to acquire a taste for it. Perhaps the right partner –”

“I think it’s more to do with other demands on my time,” he interrupted. “Like keeping my people safe and fed. Besides, I prefer being outside.”

An uncertain silence met his words, discomfort at the bite in his tone that couldn’t be answered without causing a minor diplomatic incident.

Leliana recovered first. “The night is young and His Majesty is fond of modesty. I’m sure he will have time and attention for all those who wish it once his duties to his host are fulfilled.”

“Has Her Radiance arrived yet?” Fergus asked.

With a smile, Leliana nodded and motioned for them to follow her towards the doors of the grand ballroom. Neither she nor Élodie dared break their façades to scold him for being so taciturn, so Alistair pretended not to notice their silent disapproval. The cloying mixture of perfumes and sweat wafting through the hall, the crowd of heat from so many bodies in a confined space, all of it pressed on his already sour mood, and if he had to be rude to get out of an awkward conversation, what did he care? Whispers followed with the eyes on him, words just loud enough to catch his ear before darting back into the throng like birds flitting through a summer hedgerow. The speculative edge to them made him clench his teeth. There were insinuations, appraisals and judgements, musings on his preference for comme les chiens before the words dissolved every time into peals of muffled laughter.

“It’s almost enough to make a man jealous,” Fergus huffed at his side. “They didn’t even look at me. Not one pitying glance.” Time had healed most of the injuries he had taken in the months as Howe’s prisoner during the war, but some of the damage had been too much and too long neglected for even magic to fix; his cane tapped along the polished floor with every other step.

“How about next time I hide behind you?” Alistair asked. “You can do all the talking and I’ll stand and look aloof and interesting.”

“You just want an excuse to – what is it?”

He sensed a change in pressure in the eyes on him, an intensity of regard that set itself apart from that of the fawning mass seeking his attention. After almost two years on the throne, the concept of assassinations wasn’t entirely foreign, but as he watched Morrence scan the room he saw no sudden rise in tension to say she had spotted any maniacs with giant weapons about to pounce. A shadow did perhaps flash on the edge of his vision, but as he turned it was lost among the sea of faces waiting for acquaintances, for their turn to be announced, or for their own glimpse at dog-lord royalty.

He put the feeling from his mind. Empress Celene, resplendent in the purple and gold of House Valmont, stood at the far end of the ballroom above the sunken dancefloor and watched the obeisance of the people being announced, in the same way a fisher might wait with their spear poised to strike at a promising target. Already, dozens of couples mingled beneath the bright beeswax candles staving off the autumn dark outside, their fans held up to conceal the judgements passed on every newcomer.

When Alistair’s own turn to pace the length of the gauntlet came after a few moments of waiting, she smiled behind her mask and floated down the steps to meet him on an equal level, which only meant he got to see the avaricious gleam in her eye up close as she held out her hand. As he bent his head over it, he wondered if the look was meant to be alluring, but her fingers were cool and fine-boned under his, lacking callouses from swordwork, and the only thought that ran through his mind was that even when warmed by the fire a stone remained a stone.

“Majesté,” she crooned in delicately accented Common. “Be welcome. This meeting has been long anticipated.”

He had practiced his response for an hour in the mirror. “Thank you, Radiance. It is my hope that this moment can be the first step towards a better accord between our two nations.”

“It is ours as well. Please, join us in the gallery.” She turned. “And when the dancing starts, might we suggest the company of one of our ladies-in-waiting? They are all very accomplished dancers.”

“Uh…” He risked tripping over the considerable hem of Celene’s gown to a glance upward, to where three women of equal height watched the two of them from behind identical golden masks set with amethysts.

“Is this surprise?” the empress asked him, and laughed. “How very forward to expect a more prestigious partner so early in the evening. It seems the manners of Ferelden and Orlais have yet to fully understand one another.”

“Isn’t that why we’re both here?” he replied. “Though I have to confess, my mind wandered from the thought of dancing.”

“Oh? And where did it wander to?”

He nodded to the three attendants waiting at the top of the stairs. “It must get awkward on name-days if you can’t tell them apart.”

For the next half an hour, guests continued to trickle in as the mixed company watched from above, the steady ream of announcements and introductions keeping the threat of dancing at bay, and each name was accompanied by a whispered summary of all the associated scandals recounted by the waiting-women at Alistair’s side. He found their sameness disconcerting, as if at any moment they might steal away his mask and then ask which of them was hiding it under their skirts like a bait-and-switch scam in the marketplace.

When the castellan finally folded away his list of names and bowed an exit, the closest of Celene’s women reached up with a smile as thick and false as her makeup. “There is still some time until the dancing begins, Majesté – would you like to take a turn through the rest of the rooms while we wait?”

“Why not?” He forced a smile of his own. “Where do you think we should start?”

“Perhaps the long hall?” She began to steer him away from the rest of the party. “There are so many people you should meet!”

Before he could be disappeared entirely, he cleared his throat and called over his shoulder to Élodie. “We’ve been offered a tour of this fabulous palace,” he explained. “I don’t think we should miss it.”

“I am at Your Majesty’s disposal,” the ambassador replied, and stepped up to his other side

The tour turned out to be less a way to introduce him to Orlais’ finest and more a way to show him off as an accessory. With both Morrence and Élodie as chaperones to shield him from the worst of their dainty manners, he managed to stumble through pleasantries and inane topics of conversation, and even gave his opinion on Grand Duke Gaspard’s mission to quell giants in the Deauvin Flats without tying his tongue in any knots. He told bad jokes and people tittered behind their hands. In one room he was drawn into speculation about the merits of breeding nugs.

And throughout it all, the weight of the same mysterious scrutiny from before itched across his shoulders, making his clothes too tight, too coarse against his skin. Somebody watched him, or else he was in the first stages of some illness. In a move disguised as a readjustment of the faded leather bracers at his wrists, he checked the pair of daggers hidden in his sleeves, and then eyed the extra sword buckled at Morrence’s waist. Being his bodyguard permitted her to carry weapons where he could not, but he rarely went unarmed himself and the idea of being completely defenceless struck him as foolish – and so, the compromise, with the strict understanding that Maric’s runed blade would stay sheathed except in direst need.

The feeling followed him back to the dancefloor as the castellan announced the first cotillion and a charming smile appeared before him, attached to a name and a title that he forgot instantly. When the first notes cascaded down from the court musicians he took his partner’s hand and fell into the steps to distract from his unease, the beats f the dance like the repetitions of a battle drill that kept him turning, and facing, and weaving through the room. And then the music ended. Someone thrust another woman into his path, and then another, until he was breathless and overheated from the exercise, and relieved that he had yet to trip over his own feet.

In a pause between the sets, he tried to catch Leliana’s eye in the gallery above to ask to be rescued before he could be forced towards a refreshments table. To his dismay, she was too intent on the crowd to notice, watching for advantage or threat so that he could make a show of festive enjoyment – no easy feat considering how the entire room was staring at him.

No, not the entire room.

There. The flash of shadow that had followed him all night resolved itself into a woman who turned her face away from him as soon as their gazes met. Pearls were pinned in her dark hair, and the silk of her gown flashed with the violet-green iridescence of starling feathers, dazzling enough that Alistair wondered how he had missed it before. She retreated up the stairs, trying all too hard to disappear into the crowd in a manner that deliberately kept him out of her line of sight.

“Majesté?”

His current partner had noticed his distraction. He smiled down at her, but like the needle of a compass his gaze swung back to the strange woman, whose exit had been waylaid by a man with a shock of thin, greying hair poking out from under his yellow chevalier’s feather. He bowed over the Starling’s hand, boorish and insipid, and through her reluctance she cast her gaze around the room as if seeking an excuse. Her eyes lit on Alistair again, before skittering away up to the ceiling when she caught him looking.

Gotcha.

“Will you excuse me, my lady?” he begged of the young woman on his arm. “I have to talk to my advisor. You there, Ser! I’m afraid this beauty has been bereft of a partner, if you’ll oblige me? Thank you.”

He forgot the girl as soon as he handed her off. The music started. Leliana, noticing his approach up the stairs, nodded and plucked a glass of Antivan white from the tray of a passing server, handing it to him with a subtle gesture that let him sidle close enough to not be overhead.

“Have you seen her?” he asked.

“The woman in the dark colours?” She tilted her head in amusement. “Of course. She has been watching you, and does not care for the crowd flowing around her. She knows how to walk through a room of nobles but subterfuge is not her strength. And yet… there is something familiar about her. It worries me.”

For a moment, they watched from their vantage point in the gallery. The Starling moved through the room with grace enough to catch the eye, but with too much economy to fit in with the flounces of the rest of the dancers, the poise of a warrior more than a courtier. Still, the patience with which she dealt with her partner had to be admired. Alistair winced every time the old boor overstepped the bounds of propriety to tread on her toes; part of him wanted to step in between them and pull her from the line, if only to save her feet from bruising, but the strange urge didn’t stop him noticing how she cast her gaze to every corner of her room to avoid the man in front of her – every corner, except the place where he himself was standing.

“Find out who she is,” he grunted to Leliana, and pushed away from the rail.

Momentarily freed of his obligations in the dancing, he wound his way through the press of nobles, exchanging pleasantries, until he spotted Fergus resting his legs in one of the gilt-backed chairs that had been set at the edges of the room and made for him, worried about the guarded expression on his friend’s face. The reason for the scowl became apparent when the couple standing between them turned and stopped Alistair dead in his tracks.

“Ah – Your Majesty, it is good to see you. You’re looking well.” Eamon, the former Arl of Redcliffe, straightened from his bow as if the man he was addressing hadn’t been instrumental in his exile from Ferelden over two years before. He wore a mask like an Orlesian, with only the grey trim of his beard visible beneath its swirling, enamelled lines. On his arm, the once-Arlessa Isolde wore one almost identical, save for the extra decoration of feathers around the rim.

“What are you doing here?” Alistair blurted.

“We are guests of Her Radiance, of course,” Eamon replied with a blink. “I can see time has not been generous in your perspective towards me, but I would not quarrel with you here and mar Ferelden’s standing.” He swallowed. “Though it is late to say it, please accept my condolences for your loss.”

“Condolences?” Anger coiled in Alistair’s gut, kept at bay only by the interested stares of the people around him. Eamon had done his best to make sure he and Rosslyn were separated – had nearly succeeded – and now he dared to offer remorse?

“How are you enjoying Orlais, Your Majesty?” Isolde asked before he could storm away and blow all their diplomatic efforts.

“The weather’s nice. Please excuse me.”

Below them, the dance finished. Leliana slipped into the dispersing crowd with the ease of a master and cut the Starling from the crowd like a shepherd singling out a ram. Fergus joined him as he leaned over the rail to watch their conversation, Eamon and Isolde already forgotten, and caught the direction of his gaze.

“Has someone caught your eye?” he asked.

“No.” Alistair waved a hand. “No, it’s not like that.”

The Starling was turned away from Leliana, shrinking back as if to avoid a blow, but his left-hand could not be outmatched so easily and peered closer nonetheless. And then she drew back. Her mask flicked up with a twitch of her wrist to fully cover her face, and the Starling reached out for her elbow in an urgent gesture that conveyed as much familiarity as alarm. They knew each other. The words that passed between them were too far away to hear. Leliana paused, then nodded, and together the two of them retreated from the bright lights of the dancefloor into the shadows at the furthest corner of the room.

Fergus noticed. “Well that was strange.”

“I don’t like it. Will you be alright here?”

“For now.” He shrugged. “Holding court in the corner holds much more appeal than sweating about with people I don’t care for. A younger version of me might have tried to forget myself in one of these pretty smiles, but now…” The liquid in his glass caught the light as he tilted it for inspection.

“It’s not so easy,” Alistair agreed.

He left his friend still contemplating his drink and rounded the gallery with Morrence in tow, not straight for Leliana but angling for Élodie, who had taken up entertaining the delegates from Ostwick and made a nice middle ground. He barely registered the answers he gave to their polite enquiries as he approached. The Starling had disappeared and Leliana was wending her way towards one of the quieter hallways, where there were balconies with doors that could be minded by one’s guards to glare at any passing eavesdroppers. She flashed him a brief glance and a nod.

He thought quickly, turning to his ambassador.

“My lady, you’re looking a little warm, and I’ve neglected you.” He shot her what he hopes was a winning smile. “I hope you’ll forgive me, you’ve worked so hard, after all. Why don’t we get you some fresh air?”  

Élodie frowned at him, but nodded. “Your Majesty is very kind. I am a little flustered, now that you mention it. If you will excuse me, sers.”

Threading her hand through his arm, he hustled her away with as much nonchalance as he could muster, while she, sensing his mood, kept quiet. They met Leliana a few moments later on a trellised balcony overlooking the gardens, or as much as could be seen of them beyond the torchlight.

“Well?” he asked, almost before the door closed behind him.

“Have you two been hatching plans?”

His left-hand let the mask fall from her face, though she kept it close, fidgeting with it. “The lady… presents no danger.”

“Lady?” repeated Élodie.

“There’s no need to look so hopeful.” Alistair rolled his shoulders. “We caught someone acting suspicious. Did you find anything out? You looked like you were surprised when you found out who she was.”

“I… knew her in another life.” Leliana hesitated. “She thanked the King of Ferelden for his regard, but said she would rather not become a spectacle.”

“A disagreement with family, perhaps,” Élodie supplied.

The corner of Leliana’s mouth lifted. “I did not ask.”

Without even waiting long enough for him to draw breath, she bowed and swept back into the hall. He caught sight of Morrence, watching her go with something very like suspicion written in her features, but the expression flickered back into a blank before he could be certain.

Behind him, Élodie cleared her throat.

“It is a shame this woman is not what you hoped,” she said. “I would see you happy.”

He snorted. “I didn’t hope anything – and I was happy.”

“You could be so again, if you allowed it. You cannot fight your duty forever.”

He bit back the retort squeezing past the sudden lump in his throat. Reminding her that her own husband had died in the siege at South Reach would be rather ungallant, especially considering the genial nature of the evening so far, and he had tried hard to curb the spiteful edge to his temper over the past two years. He wanted to be better. Rosslyn would have wanted him to be better.

As the thought spiralled and led his mind towards the dark precipice that would mean yet another sleepless night, the nature of the sound inside the ballroom changed. The music died away. The thump of the castellan’s staff reached his ears, followed a moment later by the announcement of Celene’s arcane advisor, the mysterious apostate who had managed to charm her way to the centre of the Orlesian court and who now, according to some, whispered spells in the empress’ ear.

“No doubt people will want us introduced,” he muttered.

Élodie nodded. “We should not keep Her Radiance waiting.”

Just inside the doors, however, he stopped. Even from across the room the Starling drew his gaze with the furtiveness of her movements, the deliberate indifference with which she moved against the flow of people, and his patience ebbed.

He touched Morrence’s elbow, leaning close. “Do you see her?”

“Aye. I want a chat with that one.”

“Get her out to the terrace garden and make sure she’s alone. Hopefully it’s cold enough outside that any interested bystanders will be discouraged.” He sighed. “I’ll get away as soon as I can.”

“I shouldn’t leave your side. The danger to you –”

“What if she’s a danger?” he pressed. “What if Leliana’s wrong? Something is going on here, and I won’t be kept beyond the chain – or don’t you think she was acting strangely before?”

At that, his right-hand let slip a curse. “I’d still be leaving you in a nest of snakes.”

“I’ll be alright.” The hilts of his concealed daggers sat snug against his wrists.

“Fine – but if you die, I get to kill you for it.”

Nobody commented on his lack of a bodyguard when he once more joined Celene and her waiting-women at the head of the room. Morrigan, her advisor, spoke Common like a Fereldan, but she had clearly spent enough time in Orlais to learn the dismissive nature of their manners. For a long moment, Alistair was distracted by a nagging familiarity he could not place, until the witch rose from her curtsey and turned a pair of piercing yellow eyes on him. The breath stopped in his lungs. His hands clenched into fists. Even the smirk was recognisable, catlike and secretive, and the instant it appeared he was shunted back to a campfire in a glade under a star-strewn sky, and mocking laughter in his ears.

“You’re Flemeth’s daughter,” he said.

The smile froze. “I did hear you encountered my mother – during the war, was it not? What did she tell you of me?”

“Only that you didn’t like living in the Korcari Wilds.”

“She resented my wanting to make something of myself outside of her influence.” She drew herself up for better display of her plum-red gown, the gold links around her throat. “And now here I am.”

“I can see the appeal,” he offered, to laughs from those gathered around them.

Celene clapped her hands. “Ah, this is delightful. You must have many things to talk about, given you share a homeland.” Her head dipped in what Alistair presumed was amusement. “Though we must ask that Your Majesty does not steal her away from us! No promises of Ferelden’s new leniency towards mages, if you please.”

He made sure to chuckle along, schooling himself not to look round to see whether Morrence had caught the Starling yet. All he could do was wait for a break in conversation and make excuses to be allowed away for some air.

When his chance finally came, a brief interlude during an influx of new people wanting introductions, he slipped through the crowd and met his right-hand at the door to the terrace. The fresh, cold scent of the night washed in, frost and damp earth, and beyond the lighted windows a dark figure stood at the balustrade that separated the garden from the sheer drop to the ground below.

“She’s waiting for you,” Morrence said.

“Any trouble?”

“Only until I threatened to draw attention to her,” came the reply. “And she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Good luck.”

He steadied himself with a breath as he stepped into the open air, a pause in which he studied the woman so invested in not being noticed. She faced away from him, hunched over as if still trying to make herself invisible, picked out by a rime of moonlight that glowed in her hair and reflected in the pearl beading on her skirts, rippled along the silk gloves that covered her arms to the elbow. Her head turned as he approached. Breath fogged silver in the night but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders and he felt it draw him along a knife’s edge as he realised too late how it might appear, a king ordering a woman to wait for him beyond earshot. A jab of self-disgust coiled in his stomach.

And yet, like Leliana said, there was something familiar about her.

He cleared his throat, set his hands behind his back. “You won’t come to any harm here, not from me.”

The Starling only flinched further away from him.

“Who are you?”

He waited, patient, until it became clear he wouldn’t simply give up and leave. The Starling’s fists bunched against the stone of the balustrade, and her shoulders heaved with a deep, almost panicky breath.

“Désolée, Majesté, le Marchandesse est –”

“In Orlesian, then,” he answered. “What’s your name?”

She paused. The line of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I’m afraid… the only name I can give you is Laurienne, Majesté. Laurienne de Savrenne.”

“Laurienne.” He risked a step closer, and she angled even further away from him, determined to hide her face even behind the mask. “You know, it’s strange – most people here tonight have been falling over themselves trying to catch my attention, but not you. You’ve tried very hard to remain unnoticed, not just by me, but by my guards and entourage as well. Why?”

“I might point out that of all those who wanted the king’s attention, I am the only one to have it bestowed.” She licked her lips. “Perhaps that was my plan.”

The sharp mockery ignited his temper. What was this but yet another sly courtier throwing jests at his expense? All night he had been nice, he had smiled, danced, dressed himself up in pretty words so the nobility would chase him for something he didn’t even want to give, and now he couldn’t even get one straight answer when he asked for it.

“A lot of people think I’m a fool,” he bit out. “It might come in handy sometimes but I assure you I’m smarter than I look, and I don’t appreciate being messed about, especially not after such a long day.”

“I’m…” Was that a fraction of a move towards him? Her head dipped towards her hands, and her eyes pressed shut. “I’m not here under my own power. In truth, Majesté, my debtor bid me come, but did not say you would be here as well.” A distinct note of bitterness entered her voice. “No doubt the thought of us meeting amused her.”

“Do you know me?” he asked.

She fell utterly still. “Do you know me?”

“Are you an assassin?”

“No.”

“But you are hiding something.”

At that, she scoffed, and again that frustrating tingle of familiarity, though it was gone too quickly for him to examine. “We are in Orlais, are we not? Everyone is hiding something. I am no different to any other noblewoman, we are all the same. Wouldn’t you agree?”

His heart stuttered. His mind conjured a sweep of raven hair, the scent of jasmine, warm lips soft against his. “There are exceptions.”

“Is it the exception you were trying to find tonight?” The Starling’s tone rang cold. “All evening you have danced with one after another and tossed them aside afterwards like a wine-taster who finishes his sip and spits the rest away. How delightful the passage of your days must be to never want for such company.”

“How dare you.” He stepped closer. “What do you know about what my days are like – or what it’s like being passed around by all those magpies in there who only care about the shiny crown I could get for them? It’s all, ‘remember it’s your duty, Alistair’ and ‘just pick one and get it over with’. If I could even have one night where I could complain about it, or – or say no – that would be something, but everyone seems to think I should be flattered by all those people pawing at me and never giving me a moment to myself!”

He paused for breath. The tirade had winded him, as much for the emotion it let loose as for the wild gestures flung out with the words. The Starling had remained still, taking the onslaught like a tree against a howling wind, though now only fatigue was left in him she shrank as if he’d struck her a physical blow.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, horrified. “I wasn’t angry at you, it’s just…” What words could he say? “I wouldn’t expect you to understand – but don’t worry. You can go. Do as you wish, my guard won’t detain you any further.”

Still she didn’t move. Cursing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed back the lump in his throat as he turned for the door. He needed sleep, he needed –

“I understand better than you would think.”

Her voice. Common, not Orlesian. The quiet servility deepened into a clarion note – it stirred his heart from its withered slumber, called it like a dog to heel. Her voice. With pulse thundering, with hope and disbelief and horror wadded into a tight ball in his throat, he looked back.

The Starling no longer shrank into herself but stood tall in defiance of the cold, her shoulders thrown back, chin lifted, in the attitude of a general. He drank in the arch of her throat, the pale skin that gleamed like marble under Satina’s light, the shine of raven-black hair gathered in an Orlesian knot at the back of her head, all details he had ignored before because it was impossible. When he didn’t move, her head tilted, and he recognised the sorrow in the gesture, the self-deprecation in the curve of her mouth.

“The man I love is at this ball tonight,” she told him. “He’s the centre of attention, but I’ve had to watch and do nothing while everyone covets what I cannot touch.”

Her voice.

“Why not?” His tongue fumbled the words through the fog in his brain, the steps he took back towards her shaky and numb, desperate, his chest constricted trying to hold his breath in case it broke the spell somehow cast around him. “Why hide?”

“I owe a debt. Until it’s paid, I can’t – my life is not my own and I have to pay it back. Besides,” she added, with a new wobble in her voice, “what would I say? He – everyone thinks I’m dead.”

They stood so close now he could have reached out to touch her hand, but he hesitated, worried that that, at last, would make her disappear and prove him mad. She was shaking; her fingers had raked lines in the frost on the stone as she clenched them into fists.

“But you’re not dead. You’re –”

Their breath mingled heavy under the moonlight as he leaned in, his hand braving night-chilled skin where her glove had fallen to her wrist, and finally she turned into him, drawn, like him, and while he closed his eyes seeking in vain for the familiar scent of jasmine and sweetgrass, the weight under his fingertips and the stulted breath that left her lips made her solid, and all that was left was to beg her to say something, to let him hear her voice again.

“I was afraid you’d forgotten me,” came the whisper, so full of doubt.

“Never –” He caught the side of her face, pressed a kiss to her temple though the rim of her mask cut into his lips. “Never.”

“I – I thought you’d hate me.”

The absurdity of it made him giggle even as he shook his head in denial. He stroked her hair. Kissed her again. And then, because it was too much to have such certainty without proof he pulled back, searching for the ribbons that secured her mask in place, her pulse flying under his fingers as he worked at the knots. When the mask finally came free, he pushed it up over her forehead – and found himself looking down into a pair of eyes that were the grey of cracked ice on a winter sea.

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2640

Part 15===Part 16===Part 17

The next handful of days became a blur of activity. Well, more so for the others than for me.

Hoseok and I had been ordered to strict bedrest, which only one of us actually took seriously. While I sat in bed most of the day, watching movies on my laptop or vegging out on as many snacks as I could convince Jeanette to bring me, Hoseok on the other hand snuck by Jimin as often as possible to help the boys with various projects around the house.

The only reason I even found out is because every few hours I’d hear Jimin fussing at him all the way up the stairs and back to the bodyguard’s bedroom.

I sat with Jeanette, Rose, and Jimin one afternoon, chatting away with them while Jimin checked my leg wound when Jungkook wandered into the bedroom, a stoic look on his face as he sat at his computer desk and turned to stare blankly at my injured leg.

“Something on your mind boss?” Jimin asked as he cinched the bandage tight and turned to begin putting his tools away in his bag.

“Mmm…” 

The noncommittal sound drew my attention and I frowned at him, worry creasing my forehead as I reached my hand over to the small throw pillow I’d been using to prop up my injured leg.

“Oi! Earth to Jeon!” I yelled, tossing the pillow overhand at him. He caught it midair, never breaking eye contact with my leg as he tossed it onto the floor beside him.

“We can’t let Eun Kwang get away with this…” He muttered, the stoic look dissolving into a frown when he finally met my eyes.

“We’ve talked about this Kookie. There’s no point to trying to retaliate. We have no idea where they’re holed up. Nor how many of them there are or what kind of fire power they’re packing.” I leaned forward, pulling my pajama pant leg down and leaning back into the headboard.

“If we had even a sliver of that information…”

“Jungkook please…” I whispered, eyes pleading with him to drop it.

He growled, shoving his way out of the chair and to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides he glared at me, though the moment didn’t last long as his gaze softened.

I shook my head, nodding to Jeanette and Rose. “We have far too much on the line to risk even one of us getting dropped because of some half thought out revenge scheme. Jungkook, going out there would be suicide.”

“You wouldn’t leave a girl widowed before you’ve even gotten a chance to marry her boss, would ya?” Jimin’s quiet words seemed to do the trick.

Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as if he’d had half a mind to argue with the words from the wise doctor. But after a moment of fish bowling he shut his mouth, shaking his head with a resigned sigh.

“No...you’re both right. It’s hot headed and foolishness that’d get me killed before I even made it halfway there.” He bowed his head for a moment, eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

“See, Tae said you were a smart man.” Rose grinned at him, standing from the bed and patting him on his arm. “Come on bud, let’s get some food in ya. I bet you haven’t eaten all day have ya?”

I snorted at the two, waving them off and thanking Jimin for his hard work. The room quickly cleared out, leaving just me and Jeanette to ruminate in our thoughts for a bit while I shifted around in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to mope in.

“Hey y/n?” Came the whispered voice of Jeanette, causing me to pause in my movements.

“What’s up?” A smile came to my lips as I watched the timid woman worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“Well umm… I was talking to Jin this morning while we worked on breakfast...about the pantry and stuff?”

I nodded as she paused, motioning for her to continue when she glanced over to me with a look of worry.

“Well, it’s just that… Yes, we have an amazing pantry. MRE’s keep for ages and so do canned goods. But like...wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh produce?” When I remained silent and smiling at her words her face lit up.

She began talking faster, turning in place to sit cross legged before me. She pulled the pillow I’d discarded earlier into her lap to protect the tiny protrusion of her belly as she spoke at length about her plans.

“Since there aren’t that many of us it wouldn’t have to be that big at first. And of course it would take a while for anything to grow. But just imagine, come fall we could have all kinds of amazing fresh veggies. Corn, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes. I could even manage cucumbers and watermelon if we could find things for the vines to climb.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine and running my thumbs reassuringly across the ridges of her knuckles as she spoke, watching the idea grow bigger and bigger within her. The passion in her voice alone had me picturing the enclosed area, teaming with life and greenery and her tiny plump form tending to the plants as she coo’d at them as if they were her own children.

As she began outlining plans for bird proof netting she paused though, mouth curved into a gentle O of surprise and if I didn’t know any better, fear as her head whipped to the door to stare at Yoongi who’d been watching us...well her, talk this whole time.

“Oh...Yoongi I…” She bowed her head, seeming to shrink in on herself as if seeing the man had taken the wind out of her sails.

“Go on…” He whispered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an encouraging smile.

“It’s just….Jin told me to ask Hoseok, who pointed me to Jungkook, who told me to ask you...and well.”

“Jeanette…” My smile only grew when her gaze finally mine. Hope began shining in her eyes and it seemed that the entirety of her frame lit up with our shared excitement.

“I love the idea. Honestly. We can get Namjoon to draw up your plans. He’s basically a genius so I’m sure he could engineer it to be the second safest place in Daegu. And since we’ve been having issues with Hoseok sitting still for long enough, he can be on duty for helping you till the soil or anything else that you might need.”

“I’ll be there to help as well…”

I glanced over to Yoongi and he grinned at the shocked look on my face.

“All of my end of things is done. You can’t exactly expect me to sit on my thumbs while cleaning my weapons all day now can you?”

Jeanette giggled at his words, gingerly lifting herself from the bed and smoothing out the black YG shirt that drowned her figure, another of Yoongi’s favorite shirts.

“Thank you y/n. Really I mean it. I was worried that I wasn’t able to contribute enough to everything that was going on and well...with this…”

“Hey now, we talked about this.” Yoongi walked over, wrapping her in a side hug and tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “You’re doing plenty enough. Between laundry and helping Jin cook all the meals?”

“Exactly.” I chimed in, shifting to my side a bit so I could send her a less pained smile. “Nobody in this house thinks you’re a burden in any way. And if they even think it I’ll tell Jungkook to beat them up on the spot.”

Yoongi snickered, sending me another grin. “He’d do it too, no questions asked. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Well, alright then. It’s settled.” He began steering her towards the door, shooting me one last grateful smile. “Let’s get those plans started on. Let the boss lady get herself some rest.

As my bedroom door shut behind them, I couldn’t help but to wonder when and how they’d gotten so close.

***

By dinner time I’d managed to convince Jimin to let me down to the basement. Everyone was off doing their own thing and frankly sitting alone to eat in the bedroom again had made me so nauseous just thinking about it that I’d almost opted to skip dinner all together. But he’d seen the desperate plea in my eyes and relented, barring that I allowed Jungkook to carry me down there.

I sat with Taehyung and Rose, munching away at my meal as I watched them giggle over stories they shared of when they’d first met.

“It was a coding nightmare. I’d only been working for the main office for two months when they put his case in my lap. Some young kid that’d managed to bully his way into the Seoul Police department’s criminal database and posted all of the corrupt politicians with arrest warrants and speeding ticket fees to every news site that he could get his grubby little hands on.” Rose cackled, throwing her head back as her entire body shook with the force of her laugh.

“Hey! That was some of my best work!” Taehyung pouted, tossing a wayward green bean in her direction and causing her to snort harder.

“Best work? You had everything so scrambled from that little backdoor snipe that it took their tech department 2 years to set everything straight.” She shook her head, popping the betrayed green bean in her mouth before tossing one of her own in his direction.

He caught it in his mouth easily, smirking all the while before continuing his rant. “It was the art job that did me in.”

“Art job?” I leaned forward, almost instantly regretting the movement when a rib shifted and sent a spike of pain shooting through my chest.

“Shit, you good?” Tae asked, looking as if he was half way to dropping everything to come to my rescue.

I waved him off, shoving a hand over the cursed injury and grinning despite the pain.

“I’m fine. Now come on, tell me about the art job!”

Rose snorted, placing her plate beside her and leaning back on her hands to give Tae a coy smile. “It was why I call him Art Nerd. He decided it would be a good idea to hack into the archives of one of the biggest art museums in the world.”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Tae tossed up his hands, all angst and agitation as he stood abruptly and began pacing the room. “Of all the places you would think that would be trustworthy about their pieces and whether they were authentic or not. The Louvre!!” He paused in his pacing, pointing angrily to his computer before spinning on his heels to scowl at me when I began snickering.

“Did you know…” He paused, stalking closer and bending forward to glare in my face, “that 87% of all the art in the Louvre is fake?”

I gasped, feigning shock at the revelation.

“That’s right! It’s a travesty! They spit on the names of the greatest artists to have ever walked the face of this planet!” He growled, turning from me to begin pacing again. “The nerve of those imbeciles. Displaying Van Gogh forgeries as if they were the real deal.”

“Needless to say when he tried to tell the world what he found out he got caught.” Rose shook her head, picking at the last of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

She glanced over at me, sly smile broadening into a full grin.

“Did you know he was wanted in 27 countries for that little debacle?”

“Tae!!!” I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at him in awe.

He shrugged, literally beaming at this point with pride though he tried to play it off as bashfulness.

Rose pointed behind me and I shifted around to stare.

“Wait…” My eyes widened with equal parts horror and pride as I whipped my head around to glare at Taehyung. “Tae...you didn’t!!”

This time he couldn’t disguise the pride. He bounded around the sofa, skidding to a stop before what I had previously thought was just a bunch of band posters. There, hanging on the wall was what Tae had told us long ago was a quilt that his grandmother had given him.

He’d sworn that he’d remove the hands of anyone who ever dared touch it. Hell he’d chased Jungkook halfway to downtown Daegu once for nudging it with his shoulder during one of the boy’s many playful basement wrestling matches. But as he slowly and reverently lifted the blanket I quickly realized the real reason why he treasured it so much. Right there on the wall, hanging between two trashy band posters was…

“Tae is that Starry Night?? Like… the actual real fucking deal Starry Night?????” I screeched.

“I couldn’t help it. When I found out they’d hung it between two forgeries I just knew I had to save it.” He lovingly traced his fingers above the protective glass, never actually touching it but making the motions nonetheless.

Rose muttered behind me, snickering into her hand as Tae dropped the quilt back into place and turned to frown at her.

“What was that Jangmi?” he growled, his already baritone voice dropping as he walked back to stand over her.

She squeaked, shrinking back as he crouched down and lifted her chin with a single finger so that she was forced to look him in the eyes.

“I said...I...hnnggg…” The brilliant blush rushing to her cheeks had me bursting with laughter, gripping my sides as I pressed myself into the sofa.

“Damn you two are adorable.” I wheezed, wiping at my tears as I watched the two hackers spring apart as if they’d forgotten I was there.

Tae gathered up our dishes, muttering to himself all the while as he disappeared upstairs. But not before I spotted his own crimson cheeked grin.

“Huh…” Rose muttered. I returned my attention to her, realizing quickly that she was now staring at the security feed pulled up on the tv before us.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyes darting over the various live images before settling on one that showed Jeanette and Seokjin talking in the area they’d decided would be the future garden.

“I thought I saw something.” Came Rose’s absent minded reply. She clicked on the video I’d been watching, bringing it up to fill the screen and squinting at a corner of the shed beside the unaware pair.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, straining to make anything out in the depths of the shadows.

“Maybe not… Tae’s better at security monitoring than I am… Let me just…”

She began typing rapidly, a series of commands appearing on screen before a top down view of the area appeared.

“Is that…”

“A live satellite view, yeah. I figured, I’ve got access to them, why not use them…” She clicked again, zooming in rapidly before suddenly screaming. “Oh shit! There’s chatterers outside the fucking gates!”

“The fuck did you just say!?”

We both screamed as Jungkook charged around the sofa, appearing as if from nowhere and grabbing Rose’s arm in a death grip.

“What do you mean there’s chatterers outside the gates?” Jungkook glared at Rose, the hardened criminal in him causing her to cower as far back as his grip would allow her.

“Kook…”

“I’m sorry okay! I was wondering what it was that I’d seen in the backyard, and when I switched to the satellite feed I saw them. It’s at least 30 of them. Jungkook, we’re surrounded!”

[soramel]

Chained to you (Part 3)

genre: angst, romance, unconventional relationship warning: eventual smut A/N: cross-posted from wattpad; updates are uploaded there first

1 2 3 4

Part 3 teaser:  Looking around, Taehyung was nowhere to be seen. Although this was just a casual dinner, he could at least have the courtesy to come with you in a family gathering.

Part 3  words: 3.9k

"I can't believe you ditched me for two weeks," Sunmi complained as she finished the coffee in her cup.

She went on a surprise visit in your office as you were preparing to get off your duty.

To distract her from her rampage, you told how your mom has been doing after the accident. Then you went on how your wedding with Taehyung will push through regardless. However, you didn't tell her the full story on how that one unfolded. It was a long story to tell and you don't have time for it.

You let out a tired sigh. "I'm caught up with a lot of stuff, Sunmi," you simply uttered.

She then replied, "A text won't hurt. But I get it, fine. You're always this cold anyway," she said as she rolled her eyes.

Glancing at your watch, it's already 7 pm. "Look, I have to visit my mom before going home," you told her, sending a signal that you really have now to go.

Your mother hasn't woken up yet but the doctor said that her reflexes are getting better. The other day, when her finger moved, relief washed through you. It's a little progress but it meant a lot. It gave you hope.

"And when are we going out again?" Sunmi asked, with a glint of hope in her eyes. You cleared your throat as you contemplated whether you should join her in one of her parties or not. The last time, she got you in deep trouble.

Sunmi wore her puppy eyes as she stalked towards you, "Please? I'm stressed because of my boss. I want to go out again with you!"

"Sunmi, I can't party all the time," you retorted.

"You speak as if you go to parties with me so often! It was just that night when I managed to get you that drunk," she complained. You laughed at her reasoning.

She then pouted, "You're a fun drunk... or I think you're really fun if you just let loose without alcohol."

"Being drunk is not fun. I'll think about it. If I'm free, I'll go with you," you resigned just to get her off your back.

You both headed out of your office then your bodyguard muttered something silently as he held his earpiece. Sunmi was taken aback by his presence.

"You have a bodyguard now?" she asked as you both headed towards the lift. You were used to having Saeho follow you around and learned to ignore him. Now that Sunmi pointed it out, you became conscious as you conversed with your friend.

Nodding back at her, you said, "For safety, according to Taehyung."

She chuckled back at that, "More like for him to keep track of you."

"I have to meet him someday, you know," she added, "If he looks as bad as you were saying, I could do something about it."

You bit your lip at her rambling.

She turned to you excitedly, "Oh, I have this model friend of mine, I can hook you up with him,"

"Sunmi..." you uttered, giving her a warning to shut up.

She raised her brow, "What? I can't let you get hooked by some rich SOB. I'll disown you."

"Or is he a DOM?" she asked boldly as she took your left hand near her face, observing the ring again.

Her question made you scrunch your forehead in confusion.

"Dom?" you asked.

She nodded back as she lets go of your hand, "Dom. Dirty old man."

The elevator doors opened at the lobby floor. You slowly walked out with her by your side and with your security behind you.

"A lot of them are driving in a fancy sports car. He exactly fits the description you gave me. Plus that kind of ring?" she took a deep breath and shivered.

At that, you purse your lips. You're sure the man behind you heard that, you just hope that this won't get to Taehyung's knowledge.

"I didn't tell you he's old. We're of the same age," you defended, trying to save yourself.

"Oh,"

"Are you coming with me? I can drop you off somewhere," you offered as you come out of the revolving door.

"Nah, I have my car down the street. I'll see you soon, okay?" she said, with threat in her eyes.

Just in time, a familiar black Benz rolled off in front of you.

Shortly after, Taehyung emerged from the driver's side. Surprise was evident in your eyes as you watched him walk his way towards you. He was casually dressed in a dark green sweater and brown trousers.

"Too bad, you're taken huh?" Sunmi whispered beside you. She was also ogling at him. For some reason, a blush crept up in your cheeks.

You were flustered as to how to handle the situation at hand, but firstly, you wonder what he's doing here.

"Let's go?" he casually asked as he stopped in front of you.

Sunmi is now watching you two with disbelief in her eyes. She looked at you then at Taehyung's hand which he nonchalantly reached out to yours, taking your hand in his. Sunmi noticed the rings you both were sporting.

You gulped as you watched her dumbfounded reaction.

"You liar," she muttered accusingly.

Taehyung turned his head to your friend, "Pardon?" he said, his voice sounded distant.

Before the situation gets out of hand, you decide to come clean. "Sunmi, this is Taehyung. Taehyung, she's my friend, Sunmi."

He looked like he didn't care, so you proceeded, "I have to go now, Sunmi."

She nodded back but it looked like she's out of it.

Taehyung then ushered you to the passenger side.

Once you were both inside the car, he shifted gear after glancing at the rearview mirror. You saw Saeho getting in your SUV as they pulled in a convoy.

#

"I'm meeting your father in the hospital," Taehyung simply told you while navigating through the bustling city.

"And I have to talk to you about the wedding,"

What? Is he backing out for real?

Your pride was crushed again at the thought of him abhorring being with you.

"My secretary booked a venue already. We can accommodate up to a hundred guests," you told him.

His forehead scrunched at the information, "Make it 300."

You were relieved at what he said but more so it made you scoff. You already think that a hundred was too much but given that you also have to invite some of your dad's colleagues, you and Jae settled on a hundred guests.

Also, you don't want a grand wedding that will be difficult to top off once you have your real one.

"300 is too much," you muttered, holding your tongue in your cheek.

"Aren't we having it in Waldorf? Your hotel? We can hold more guests if that's the case."

"Send me your list and I'll take a look at it," he added.

He made it clear that he's not into details. Why is he making a fuss about it now? But knowing the reason behind that was beyond you.

At the stoplight, he fumbled with the dashboard and browsed through his contacts. He stopped at one particular name and pressed call.

The person picked up after a few rings.

"Mr. Kim!" a voice of a man which sounded too girly for a baritone one was heard from the other line.

Taehyung smiled and greeted, "Charles, I have something for you."

"What is it? A yacht party? or do you want it on a ferry like the last one? I heard you're getting married!" the man named Charles rambled on the phone, his voice sounded more excited than before.

You watched Taehyung in disbelief.

"It might be too late to inform the guests about that. We're having it at Waldorf," he replied.

"Oh," Charles' voice sounded a bit disappointed, but he quickly recovered.

"In Incheon! That will be fine. What's your target date?"

"The soonest,"

Charles didn't even falter as he quickly asked, "Number of guests?"

"Three hundred?"

"A grand one! Make it a thousand!" your jaw dropped at where this conversation is going. You glared at Taehyung beside you who were having too much fun.

The traffic moved forward and you huffed in your seat.

"Make this event worthwhile for your portfolio. My wife is pretty chill with the details," you heard him say, his tone sounding mockful at the last sentence.

"Oh, thank you! Let me work my magic!"

"Alright, I'll give your number to her secretary. He's handling these kinds of things for her."

"Sure sure! Do that! Best wishes on your marriage!"

When the call ended, you threw him an irritated glance. "We already arranged things. Jae will be very disappointed," you glumly told him. He just threw your secretary's hardwork out of the window!

"I'm just making sure," he shrugged. There are times when Taehyung is bearable but this bossy and arrogant side of him ticks you off in all places.

"Then you should have volunteered earlier so I didn't have to go through all that fuss!"

"Your secretary is doing it all for you anyway and how sure are you that he can pull this thing off?"

"He's working with a wedding planner,"

"Charles is much more experienced. He hosts my mom's parties."

He then threw you a quick glance before letting out a chuckle. "You're so cute when you're mad," he uttered before biting his lower lip.

The remark only irritated you more. You badly want to strangle him using his seatbelt. If it were not for your dear life. It was a bad call. You cannot live with this man with this kind of attitude.

Taehyung rubbed you off the wrong way that night. You were pissed off that you ended up giving him a silent treatment. After arriving in your mom's suite, he and your dad went outside for a talk. For what is that all about, you didn't care.

"Mom..." you blurted out with longing in your voice. You blinked rapidly to stop your tears from falling. She looked frail lying on the hospital bed. Your mother was always radiant and looked best. Seeing her getting thinner as time goes by breaks your heart.

"Everything's fine. I'm handling things well with the board," you ran your hand on her head, gently giving her comforting pats. At least, the machines attached to her lessened.

"But you should wake up soon, okay?"

After some time, the two gentlemen walked back into the room. You stood up to face your father. He's been so busy that you barely had time to see each other despite him living in the same house.

"We can go home together if you'd like," you offered him.

He shook his head in response, "I still have a lot of paperwork to do."

This one made you frown, "Dad, please don't neglect your health," you told him, irritation laced in your voice. He might have been overwhelmed now that your mother is not there to help him. On your end, you're doing everything you can to keep your company afloat.

"We don't have enough time before the campaign starts. I'm making sure everything is well-prepared,"

You let out a sigh, "Alright. If I can do anything for you, let me know."

He let out a tired smile as he told you, "You're doing more than enough, Y/n."

Then your dad turned to Taehyung and said, "Drive her home, please. It will make me more at ease."

Taehyung nodded gently but you protested, "Dad, I have Saeho so you don't have to worry."

"It's fine. We'll get going now, sir," Taehyung retaliated, you sent him a glare but he just ignored it. Fine, he's the one getting tired anyway.

You then turned to your mother and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I love you, mom. I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered.

The whole car ride was silent. You chose to sleep on the way home instead of keeping him company. When the car turned into a halt, you woke up just in time to see that you'd arrived. The porch is dimly lit and the mansion looked sad.

Without a word, you simply unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed your bag, then climbed out of the car. Taehyung climbed out too as your door slam shut.

"Y/n," the stern in his voice made you look back at him. He quickly sauntered to your side.

With furrowed brows he asked, "What's wrong with you?"

You purse your lips as you answered, "Nothing."

He clicked his tongue before answering, "You're acting like a bitch."

Your mouth fell agape at his statement. It painted your face red and you're now fuming mad at him. You pushed his shoulder back harshly but he stood in place. "Asshole. Get lost," you told him, irritation filled your tone.

He quickly grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, sending you stumbling into his chest.

"I won't tolerate this kind of behavior so you tell me what's wrong," his words dripped off like acid, almost scaring you.

You gulped then averted your eyes from his piercing gaze.

He tilted his head to the side, chasing your eyes but you couldn't bear to look at him.

He threw your secretary's hardwork off the window. That means he also threw your work away. Every output that Jae and the wedding planner has, it went through your approval. You would extend outside working hours choosing the catering, flowers, theme colors. You're also about to meet your designer for your wedding gown. Almost everything is settled according to your taste and Jae helped out in filtering down the list you can choose from.

But you would burrow your own hole first before Taehyung would know that you became pretty much hands-on in this affair.

You're not supposed to care, but at the end of the day, it's still your wedding.

"Y/n," he called out for the second time, his voice much more irritated than before.

You let out a resigned sigh, "I'm just tired," you told him dismissively.

You pulled your hand back out of his grip but Taehyung won't let go.

"Tae," you whined.

Your eyes grew a fraction when his eyes darkened in response. You didn't mean to call him that. You wet your lips before uttering, "It's getting late, you should go ahead."

But he didn't understand what you said. His whole attention was focused on your inviting lips, he hated to admit it but he still thought of that night he had with you, under his sheets.

Taehyung held your chin in between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head up a bit. Before you could even react, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your eyes widened out of surprise, but you were still deep rooted to the ground.

He bit his lip as he watched for your reaction. "I'm sorry, I just missed you," he muttered. "Are we okay now?" he asked after. Taehyung then casually placed both his hands on your sides.

"I don't like that you're interfering with the preparations," you started,

"You should have taken the task before I handed it to Jae so he doesn't have to work extra for it."

Taehyung nodded in understanding.

"And he knows what I like, that's why I trusted him with that," you added.

Irritation flashed in his eyes but it was gone before you knew it. He let out a sigh, "Just have him work with Charles instead. Charles will make it better."

You purse your lips while contemplating on the compromise he offered.

"I don't want a grand wedding. Make sure he doesn't overstep, my preference will be followed according to what Jae picks. "

There was hesitance in his eyes before replying, "Your taste. Noted. But having it grand..."

"Taehyung," you called sternly. You cannot believe you're arguing with this kind of stuff with him. "Grand is not my taste," you retaliated.

He threw a smirk at your statement, "Coming from you, princess," he said looking at you from head to toe. He smiled at his own realization so he nodded, "Okay. I'll tell Charles about it."

You furrowed your brows at him, adjusting your gaze on his face as he seemed closer, "And don't call me princess. I hate it."

His smile grew which confused you. Is there something funny at what I said?

"I'm serious."

Taehyung nodded as he closed his eyes and let out a shuddered breath. You failed to notice that throughout the argument, he managed to pull you close to him. His hands were now encircling your waist.

Placing your hands on his chest, you took a step back, pushing him away.

"I'll go now," you finally said before turning your back on him and climbing up the porch.

#

After a shower, you dialed up Hoseok, your private investigator.

"Any leads?" you asked the man on the other side of the line. He made you use another phone just to make sure no one will rat you out when you're investigating everything on your own.

"The man knew the route he's taking. He managed to hide his face from the cctv cameras until he disappeared in the crowd in Myeongdong," he reported. It made you feel frustrated and cornered.

"So what now?"

"On the other hand, I found something interesting, Ms. Y/n."

"The cops are playing russian roulette with your father's potential opponents," he started.

Your brows furrowed at the stupidity of their action, "That will be a long list and how will they know?"

"I'm curious myself, here's more,"

"The Kims are doing things on their own. I just can't identify the path they're taking but from what I gathered they're looking at a different angle in this case. I have a hunch they're misleading the police with information while they figure things out."

That's impossible, you thought to yourself. With an inhale, you told Hoseok, "That's too far off, don't you think? They're the closest family friend we have, I doubt they'll do that."

"I'm not saying they're doing a bad thing, Ms. Y/n. It could be that or there's a beneficial reason for your end for them to mislead the police. I don't know if your dad knows about this. If he knows then your family is safe, if he doesn't..."

Then the worst thing happened. The situation piqued your curiosity, but you couldn't afford to talk to your father yet. There's a ceasefire, but you're not yet at ease to have a serious talk with him regarding the Kims.

"With that, I'm asking for your cooperation. You have to find it out yourself, Ms. Y/n. While I'll try to infiltrate the Kims to get my hands on this one. But that won't be easy,"

Hoseok's right. They own the most trusted security system company in Korea, how long will that take for Hoseok?

"I'm getting married soon, Hoseok, can you at least dig something out before that?"

The man laughed at the question. "I hate to admit this, but your marriage may help you infiltrate to get some info. You know how the Kims are," he replied, dropping the formalities.

You don't like the unspoken idea of Hoseok. Getting in too deep might-- you held on that thought and quickly erased it off your head. You'll just make sure everything falls into its rightful place.

#

The wedding was a grand affair. You hated it. You sent death glares to your secretary when you saw the filled banquet hall. The look in your eyes made Jae pull you aside and explain. According to him, this was the best he could do, he already made a lot of compromise with Charles. Your initially approved designs, everything, went through in exchange of making it a three-day event.

It kicked off with a laid-back welcome party on a Friday night.

"I thought it's just a family dinner," you muttered under your breath.

Jae pursed his lips. Suddenly nervous at the hysteric in your voice trying to lash out.

"Well, the country is a family to your father," he whispered in an attempt to reason his way out.

"You could have at least told me. You know I hate being surprised like this. I'm..." the sentence trailed off with a sigh from your mouth.

"I know, but I couldn't bother you with things like this. You were occupied enough with the board. Just pull yourself together for the night. Let tomorrow deal with itself,"

He's right. You thought to yourself. Looking around, Taehyung was nowhere to be seen. Although this was just a casual dinner, he could have the courtesy to at least make an effort to come with you in a family gathering.

You walked to your father with all of the composure you've gathered. Seeing him socialize nonchalantly with his colleagues, you tried gaining his attention by intently looking at him. You sent him a grim smile when he caught you walking up to their group.

"Y/n!"

A three-day wedding. Tonight is just a welcome party. Tomorrow will be the main event with all the ceremony and two receptions. Then a farewell brunch on the third to top off your misery.

"Dad," you greeted once reaching the group. As if on cue, you leaned towards him to kiss him on the cheek. Then turned to his colleagues afterwards for a curt bow.

The gentlemen said their congratulations followed by an inquiry where your fiance at. In which you smoothly replied, "He'd be here soon, I just went ahead to talk to my father. So, if you'll excuse us,"

The old man followed your steps after giving his colleagues a glance.

"What's the matter?" he asked once out of their earshot.

He didn't miss the hesitation that flashed in your eyes as you tried to come up with an excuse. You just used him to save yourself earlier. His lips pursed into a grim line.

Putting a hand on your arm, he told you, "Why don't you go up your room first and call him? His parents are somewhere in this crowd already. I was with them earlier."

You then nodded in resignation. Then silently waded your way out of the crowd, ignoring the casual glances being thrown at you.

Once out of the banquet hall, you took a right turn without much paying attention. To your surprise, you saw Taehyung talking to a woman. This made you step back and hide yourself against the wall, clutching your purse close to your chest.

Then a thought came to mind, why am I hiding?

"I'd call you. Don't show up like this," your fiance uttered in a low voice you've never heard before.

That's why. Because they looked like star-crossed lovers hiding from the villains. And you were one of them. In their story, you are. Even though it was just a blink, their closeness made you tread back.

The situation made you smirk.

The raging thoughts disabled you from hearing what his lover was saying but you caught on, "- are you kidding me?" the lady asked in a sarcastic voice.

"I have a lot of things on my plate right now, Lana. Please..."

Their exchange made you sick. It felt like you shouldn't be there right now, so you turned away.

But you didn't want to go back to the party. Heck, you don't even like the situation you're in right now.

With the fire exit to the opposite end of the hall, you harshly pushed on the door and went down the stairs. Until you found yourself in the basement parking.

[cruciology]

Another Drink

Requested by Anon: “can u pretty please write some rough smut with sandor? like you’ve always fancied him and flirted innocently but one night at a tavern he sees you with someone like bronn or tormund and gets all possessive?”

It was a busy night for you. You expected it had something to do with the upcoming battle that the knights had all been talking about. Stannis Baratheon’s army was nearing King’s Landing. War would be knocking on their doorstep. You tried not to think about it and instead accepted the silver that was slid over to you. 

While your father technically owned the tavern, he hardly moved from his own barstool where he drank himself stupid every night, so the worries of how to keep the tavern open fell to you. After the way you were being tipped tonight, though, you were sure you would be okay for a while. Despite the impending doom of battle, you were in good spirits. You had even taken a few drinks yourself, something you never normally allowed yourself while working. It was too difficult to keep hands off of you while sober. You often had to send the men next door to the brothel when they forgot themselves and tried to grab your ass as you walked passed. 

One man had gotten a little too rough, you had ended up with a bruise, but you imagine you would have gotten much worse if the King’s bodyguard hadn’t been there to throw the man nearly across the room. The Hound was a quiet man, usually just drinking alone at the end of the night when he was relieved of his duties. He had intimidated you the first few times he had come in. His reputation was well known. The Most Feared Man in King’s Landing. But after that night, you realized you didn’t have much to fear from him if you didn’t get on his bad side. 

Maybe it was because he was the only man who never tried to woo you and you liked a challenge or maybe it was that he was actually handsome under the burned flesh and scowl or maybe you liked that he had rescued you, but you had developed a bit of a crush on the Hound. If he had noticed your flirtatious smiles or not so subtle brushes on his back when you poured his drinks, he didn’t say anything. Even if he was oblivious, you weren’t one to give up easily. 

“Is it true what they’re saying?” You asked the Hound over the loud chatter of the tavern as you set his pint down in front of him. Even sitting down, he was nearly eye level with you. “That Stannis is coming for the shore?” 

“What care is it to you?” The Hound said, not even glancing at you.

“Won’t be good for business if all my patrons die,” You said. You wondered if he would take notice of you if you plopped yourself down in his lap. 

“Men drink, doesn’t matter what side they’re on,” The Hound said, finally glancing at you. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’ll make sure of that, won’t you?” You said with a coy smile. He looked back down at his pint and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was a hard man to break. You supposed that was why he had the reputation that he had. “Let me know when you need another.”

He lifted his pint in response as you walked back towards the kitchen. You refilled some glasses, turned down drunken proposals, and took tips from men too drunk to realize how much they had given you. 

“Well, hello,” You looked up from your coin counting to find blue eyes boring into you. You could feel them on you and had he not been a good looking man, you might have taken offense to how he seemed to be undressing you in his mind. 

“And to you,” You said with a slight smile. He didn’t appear to be as drunk as the men he was with.

“All the tavern girls in King’s Landing as pretty as you?” He asked, leaning on the bar between you. 

“Does this work on all the pretty tavern girls?” You asked. He was older but plenty handsome. If the Hound wasn’t going to pay you mind, you thought this one wouldn’t be too bad to warm your bed for the night. Hell, you could be dead in the morning if the King’s army didn’t hold the line against their enemies. You figured you could settle. You leaned forward as well, your hands on the bar. 

“Is it working now?” He said. “Because that’s what I’m more concerned about.” 

“Maybe so,” You shrugged. “Can I get you another…” 

“Bronn, Commander of the City Watch.” His chest puffed out, all important as he introduced himself. “And yes, you can.” 

“Oh, well don’t I feel safe now, Commander Bronn,” You said as you poured him more wine. 

“Be safer with the eunuch as Commander,” You looked up, noticing the Hound looming behind Bronn. You couldn’t read the expression on his scarred face as he set his empty pint on the bar in front of you. “Get me something stronger, girl.” 

“A please wouldn’t strike you dead, Clegane,” You said with an eye roll. Bronn looked annoyed at the interruption as well. You could always find him later. “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

“Shouldn’t you be keeping your boys on a closer leash?” You heard the Hound ask Bronn as you turned to go to the storeroom. You assumed he meant the men who were supposed to be preparing for battle but were instead drowning themselves in spirits and women. 

The storeroom was a bit cramped, with shelves overflowing with fancy wines and spirits that your father had probably forgotten were back there. You could worry about organizing the mess after the battle. For now, you focused on finding something that might suit the Hound. 

Suddenly, something blocked the light from the candles outside of the store room. “What is it you think you’re doing?” The Hound asked, his voice so low and deep it reverberated in your chest. 

“Getting your drink?” 

“You want that idiot to take you to bed?” He asked. You felt your cheeks turn a bit red as you clenched your fists, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t want to give him that. 

“What care is it to you?” You asked, repeating his words from earlier. “Is it a crime against the king for me to fuck who I want, Clegane?”

“If you’re just going to take any cock that shows interest-,” 

“Well, you aren’t showing any!” You said, finally turning to face him. He glared down at you, his mouth a hard line under his beard. 

“You want me to fall over you like all these fools?” He asked, stepping closer to you, forcing you to step back into the shelf, your back hitting it and causing a bottle to crash to the floor, filling the small room with the scent of sweet, fruity liquor. “Do I look like a fool to you, girl?” 

“Do you expect me to wait for you to do something then?” 

“I’ll fucking do something then,” His mouth was on yours, his grip hard on your hips as he kissed you roughly. He tasted like the dark ale he had been drinking. You tangled your fingers in his hair, standing on tiptoe to reach him better. He reached down, scooping you up to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Take this bloody thing off.” He tore at the tie at the top of your bodice. You undid it with an expert hand, tossing it somewhere in the small room. His mouth moved to your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth. He bit hard enough to leave his mark, but not hard enough to hurt. You arched yourself into his touch. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You prayed to which ever god was listening that you both would live past tonight, if only so you could fuck the Hound good and proper, in a bed where he could lay you down and take his time with you. For now, though, you just wanted to feel him inside of you. 

You moved your hips against his stomach where he held you, trying to generate any sort of friction to calm your ache. You could feel him chuckle against your chest. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Was that not the point?” You asked, exasperated. “Come on, then.” 

The Hound set you on your feet. For a moment, you thought he was going to leave you like that, but in an instant, he had you flipped around. You faced the shelf once again as he ripped your dress down, leaving you naked with your skirts pooled around your ankles. His knee pushed your thighs apart and he shoved you until you bent forward. 

He lowered himself to his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs tight enough to leave a bruise. You were sure you would find his marks on you for weeks. You nearly cried out when you felt his tongue on your wet slit. Your hands clasped onto the shelf in front of you. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” You heard him growl from behind you, feeling the rumble of his voice. 

“Keep going,” You begged. “Please.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to keep quiet as he licked at your pussy, the noises coming from low in his throat making it that much better. You felt your knees buckle but his grip on you kept you from falling as you felt your end come, a cry of his name coming from your lips as that tension in you broke. 

You had barely any time to think before you felt him shove his cock into you from behind, his hand over your mouth so no one could hear the near scream that came out of your mouth. He was so large, you felt as if he filled you as you had never been filled before. You weren’t surprised, you had figured such a big man had to be big everywhere, but a guess was much different than having him in you full hilt. 

“Do you like that?” He asked, his mouth against the shell of your ear. “Do you like taking my cock?” You nodded furiously, pushing your ass back against him. He held your hips still with his free hand. He moved his other hand away from your mouth, giving your ass a sharp smack and making you yelp. 

“Please, Sandor,” You pleaded, trying again to push back into him but he held firm. He liked hearing you beg for him. 

“Tell me what you want, girl.” 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

He pulled almost all the way out before giving one quick thrust, making you gasp and dig your nails into the shelf in front of you. You couldn’t help a whimper when he didn’t keep going. “You want me to fuck you? Not any of those drunk cunts out there?” 

“No, no one but you,” You promised. 

Finally, he let himself go, slamming into you and sending more bottles to the ground. You honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care as you felt him pound into you. His grunts mixed with your moans and the smell of alcohol. You could tell he wasn’t going to last long and you encouraged it, wanting nothing more than to feel his seed drip out of you. You wanted to feel every part of him. 

His hand slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit. “I want to hear you say my name again,” He said, pressing a kiss into the soft flesh of your neck. It was so gentle in contrast to how aggressive his thrusts were against you. “Fuck, come for me again.” 

“Sandor,” You cried out, your body shaking as you finished again. You felt his thrusts get more erratic, groans from low in his throat. He held one hand tight on your hip, the other held him up against the shelf as he finally released into you. 

His head fell against your shoulder as he hunched over you, looming over you. You reached your hand up, touching his now sweaty hair. He pressed a quick kiss onto your back as he pulled out of you. You felt oddly empty without him inside you, surrounding you. You both stood in silence as you redressed. You hoped that people would assume the wine stains at the bottom of your skirt were just spilled drinks. You still felt short of breath as he looked you over. 

“You gonna get me my drink or what, girl?” He asked. 

You laughed, reaching out to playfully hit him, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to his chest. Lifting you off your feet, he kissed you again. 

[enternalempires]

Downfall of a Liar

This is a Lukanette fic. Some fluff, some angst, a lot of salt and Luka being a King of Revenge. You all get to see the more conniving part of our snake boi. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same. Basically,  Lila Rossi has gone too far and Luka Couffaine is going to do something about it. He is, after all, a Couffaine… a little chaos never frightened him.

Marinette came to him on a Friday afternoon with sad eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her knees were bleeding and her wrists were bruised, hair messy and lip busted. Her dress was ruined with an ugly paint smear and her stockings underneath were ripped.

“I fell down the stairs,” She told him, looking away. “I didn’t mean to. I must’ve fallen into some paint.”

Luka didn’t believe this.

The wobble in her voice and the unsteady way she had stumbled right into his chest when she saw him was not the actions of a girl used to her own clumsy feet. Marinette was a strong girl and he knew how much of a burden was placed onto her shoulders. She did not crack easily and she did not do it over being a klutz or smudged paint. She did not cry over repairable things, over broken nails or washable clothes. She did not come to him looking upset and watery-eyed without feeling one step from breaking.

These were things he knew.

So, after calming her down and getting her to take a shower, offering her clean clothes and a warm bed, and letting the girl he fell in love with fall asleep on his chest to the sound of his heartbeat, he did some digging.

He went to his sister first and found out the real story.

Marinette was in the art workshop, Mrs. Bustier having set up a lesson in there during the last hour of the day, with the other members of the band as she helped Nathan and Marc on their story.

She was honestly just being nice— as Jules explained— then the bitch, his sister’s respective name for Lila, sauntered into the room and started to wail about how Mari was only helping the two co-creators because she wanted the credit for their work.

The girl he fell in love with defended herself, and her friends did the same but with most of the Akuma class— excluding the band members and Nathaniel— having fallen for her tails of woe and amazing, yet false, life experiences, they sided with the liar instead of Mari.

Then, throughout the rest of the class, the bitch found ways to terrorize Marinette (going as far and tripping her and cutting her dress with scissors, dropping her paint onto her, pushing her into things, or slamming different objects onto her wrists) and then blame her for getting in the way.

Juleka and Rose had helped Marinette calm down a little as the girl broke into tears as soon as they were away from the rest of the Akuma class but she just kept panicking— and ran away. They didn’t know where she ended up until he texted them and asked.

Then Luka asked for Alya Cesiare’s phone number and made an unsettling discovery.

Marinette and the blogger were no longer best friends.

And, horrifyingly, she had been accused of being a bully, a liar, and a manipulator. Lila painted his melody in the way that everyone should view her instead.

Finally he created a group chat with a few allies he could trust.

He contacted Adrien Agreste (because even if the boy had been painfully oblivious that Marinette had once been in love with him, he would do anything for his lady), Kagami Tsurigi and her girlfriend and spoiled brat, Chloe Bourgeois, the boyfriends Marc and Nate, and then the rest of his band.

He named it ‘The Marinette Protection Squad’ and, just like that, the war was on its way.

*-*-*

Lila Rossi was waiting in the back of the school by herself when Luka arrived. He found her hidden between one of the walls and a thick oak tree and he didn’t bother to hide himself as he crossed the grounds over to her.

She saw him, surprise lighting her features for a second before it shifted into a— what he would guess, if it wasn't on someone so repulsive— a seductive smile.

“Luka!” She squealed, sauntering up to him and stopping a few feet away. “How are you, sweetheart? It’s been forever since we saw each other, since your last year in Lycee, right?”

“I don’t care,” Luka took a step back, face emotionless as he looked down at her. His eyes gave away nothing as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ve made a lot of people angry, Lila.”

“A-Angry?” She stammered, feigning innocence by putting her hands over her heart with too wide of eyes to be real. “Why would they be angry with me?”

“Because you’re a liar and you hurt the people they care about— you hurt the person I care about.”

“Oh,” Lila straightened her back. “You must be talking about my bully.”

“Your bully?” Luka scoffed, less than amused. “Sure, I’ll play along for a minute. Who is your bully.”

“She’s... s-she is Marinette,” The liar sniffles. “And she says such horrible things about me and they’re not true! She pushes me and, and she rips up my homework and she insults me. Whatever you heard isn’t true, I swear!”

“Are you done?” He sighed out, shrugging his shoulders to make them relax more. “You’re a lying bitch, I get it. I’m not here to let you try to sink your claws under my skin, not that it would work, I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Lila asks, voice going a bit nastier than she probably intended.

What a two-faced bitch.

“That you should watch your back,” He says simply, turning slightly to walk back to his house. “You pushed a lot of people into your enemy list by threatening Marinette and now you’re about to face the consequences. It’s only fair to give you a head’s up.”

“Marinette,” she shrieks, “is nothing but a liar and a horrible person—”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no matter what anyone says, is the kindest person you will ever meet,” Luka snarled, whirling on the sausage-haired girl so fast that she stumbled back, unprepared. “And I’m hers. You hurt the wrong person, you egocentric bitch, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Lila gaped for a second before she forced an innocent look on her face, mouth opening to say something but the musician just continued, eyes hard and narrowed and angry, mouth drawn into a tight line.

He was a generally calm person, he could handle a lot before ever blowing a fuse. Because he was also a Couffaine at heart. He thrived in chaos where others wither and when it came to those he loved, nothing would stop him from protecting them.

Especially when the one he loved and had to defend was the girl he fell in love with.

“She is thoughtful and compassionate and selfless and astounding in how she will push herself to the knife’s edge just to make sure her loved ones are okay. She is a cinnamon roll but the fiercest ally you could ever have. There is no stopping her, there is no convincing her to step down when she’s standing up for something that’s right— when she’s standing up for someone, unless that someone is herself.”

He took a step closer and, well, that must’ve been pretty intimidating because she scrambled to take one back, causing a humorless chuckle to leave his lips.

He was his mother’s son but he had enough of his father in him to leave others terrified.

“And you want to convince me that just because you have the Akuma class, Mlle. Bustier, and M. Damocles so far up your ass that people will hate her? Really? Let me tell you something, sweetheart," He gave a cruel smirk, voice mocking as he repeated what she called him earlier. “This isn’t you and all your puppets against Marinette, it’s now you against the entire school. You might pretend to rule this place but she is the one who everyone looks up to and loves. She’s their sunshine child and leader and she has connections everywhere. She knows people that could make your life a living hell and it is her kindness alone that has spared you in the past. And you should have cut your losses when you had the chance because I, however, am not as kind. You declared war, Mlle. Rossi, do not be surprised when your downfall comes knocking on your door.”

With that and smirking at the ugly glare on her face, Luka saunters away, whistling a happy tune despite how tightly his fists are clenched inside his pockets.

It’s a week later when they make the first move.

Ivan and Rose, because despite her size she puts up one hell of a fight, are Marinette’s bodyguards during school. They prevent her from getting hurt while Mylene, Marc, and Nate make sure to record anything and everything Lila does that’s incriminating towards her reputation. 

Juleka is on sabotage duty during school to make sure any plans backfire onto the bitch while Adrien is the distraction. Both were excellent at their job. Almost scarily good.

Outside of school Kagami and Luka strategize and come up with plans to make sure anything Lila says can be used against her. They organize groups and make sure that Marinette and her family doesn’t get bothered by Lila or any of her followers.

One by one more people in the school help. Marinette’s friends from different classes going from the highest grade level to the first year students at Lycee all jump in when needed— when they overhear a lie and debunk it by pulling up proof or contacting the people involved directly (Marinette isn’t the only one with contacts).

One by one Lila is getting more isolated, one by one she’s losing her power.

And it’s so satisfying to see that Luka goes to sleep laughing.

It’s not even a full month before the Akuma class had fully left Lila’s side, the last to turn was Alya— the reporter so distraught over how she realized she had been treating her former best friend that she had a mental breakdown.

It was a month on the dot when Honeybee and Ryuko got video footage of Lila snatching one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies from the air with a wide grin and a “What can I do for you today, boss?” and it was a week later when her life got ruined.

(Marinette was so overjoyed that the constant terror— in her civilian— life was going away that she kissed Luka until their lungs ached and, just like that, Luka got revenge and a girlfriend in one sweep.

And that girlfriend was very, very grateful for it too. Most nights he went to bed with bruise-kissed lips and a beautiful girl in his arms. Marinette looked happier than she did in years and all the planning and frustration melted away when he saw her wake up with a smile.

He couldn’t protect her when she was fighting an Akuma but he’s proved more than enough times that he could protect her when she goes back to having two left feet.)

First she got expelled from her Lycee for false accusations, thief, bullying, and cheating. 

Then her lies— ever last one of them— were exposed and her mother was informed about what her daughter was up to and even waved her daughter’s diplomatic immunity— being absolutely disgusted with her daughter’s behavior— when the court cases of people suing her for fraudulence, harassment, threats, attempted murder, and acts of terroism.

Last, but not least, Lila was banned from Paris and all the cases stacked up against her were moved to a different court within France so they wouldn’t even have to see her again.

Though they did see her screaming and shrieking and snarling towards Luka as he joyfully waved at her when the bitch was getting dragged to the back of a cop car, “You! You did this! You made this all happen! I’m going to get you back for this, Couffaine, I swear I’m going to get you!”

She seemed absolutely insane, drool going down her chin from how hard she had been yelling, eyes frantic and face flushed and she jerked like a wild animal trying to get out of her cuffs and the officer’s hands that held her back from attacking the young musician.

He was a Couffaine and this chaos made him delighted to witness.

After all, it’s not everyday you get to see the downfall of the bitch who made the love of your life miserable.

Luka just laughed and sent her a cocky wave, “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Well… you can’t say she wasn’t warned.

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Secrets | Joshua

Joshua | Secrets

Words | 9,180

Notes | Bodyguard!Joshua, mentions of alcohol, mild cursing. Angst/Fluff; 

I’m back-ish with a very rough (I think) piece, mildly edited. I’m excited but nervous to be posting here again and I don’t know how often it will be that I will be posting but.... here’s this; my first svt piece in 8 months. This is a repost since... the tagging system on this site... yeah... 

The fake smiles and peach Bellinis, the overdone cologne and extravagant attire, the crystal chandeliers and table decorations all brought a sneer to your face when you assumed nobody was paying close enough attention. The solitude didn’t bother you so much, it was nice to not feel like you were being suffocated for at least ten minutes; ten minutes of breathing to yourself was all you ever asked for. Always being tugged this way and that for photo ops got exhausting. The photo ops weren’t even the most taxing part, it was the fake relationship you had to keep up with one of the most prominent up and coming jewelry designer’s son, who you had happily dated at one point.

Big chunky bracelets, rings that looked too heavy for fingers, necklaces layered to the hills, and earrings that may have ripped anyone’s earlobes open was the type of gaudy jewelry you always had to put on display with a disgusting fake smile while your now-ex-boyfriend dripped with confidence, somehow, that made your skin crawl. Being in his direct vicinity all the time to keep up the image of this perfect shining couple for the sake of jewelry promotions quite frankly made your stomach turn, but the perks may have made it worth it—occasionally.

Some of the more elegant jewelry picks, a lump sum of money, some days wiping that egotistical smirk off his face were a few things that made it all worthwhile since you were frequently the one being interviewed at events about the jewelry line while still not being the heir. That boiled his blood in a way that genuinely turned your lips up in an almost unnoticeable smile. The couth you had to sit there in front of him and take all the questions with such grace—you could feel the way his fingers dug into your hip when he sat with you a bit friendly, but it was all for show. The two of you were business partners now, and that’s really all it boiled down to.

But you’d had your run-in with his less than stellar attitudes, at galas and showcases when he lost his temper with you being a show-stealer, and often forcefully kept you around to keep the cameras on him. That’s when you found Joshua. You’d found him and his specific skillset in a newspaper ad—it was unlike you to read the newspaper but you perused the ad section for job listings, animal adoptions, and all kinds of other things when you came across his blurb:

Full or Part Time Bodyguard. Trained in hand to hand and weapons combat, CPR certified, available for any/all events. To Inquire, call Joshua Hong.

While you had entertained the idea of a bodyguard for a while, it never really became a necessity until the business partnership you had was getting a bit more aggressive. There was little you could do to complain, because leaving was always a viable option, albeit they begged you to stay for publicity purposes—they being the family after hearing of your falling out. But Joshua became a harsher reality as the partnership became most hostile.  

When you first saw Joshua at a consultation, he was the last type you’d ever suspect. You wouldn’t say he was far from intimidating looking, but he didn’t radiate a whole ass-kicking like you had expected. He was quieter with soft eyes but very professional. He spoke to you matter-of-factly, laying out all your options and drafting contract ideas in case you wanted to go through with hiring him. You figured it couldn’t hurt to have him around, particularly at events where anything could have gone unnoticed in such a large crowd, especially with the way you were treated.

Bringing Joshua to the table for a showcase rocked the boat a bit. It turned into an escalation by your ‘business partner’ about how it was unnecessary to have a bodyguard and that it would only bring suspicions about your relationship, to which you retaliated, “As if you harshly pulling me around isn’t enough.”  His parents could do little to object. You had Joshua there with you, or you were out of the deal, which would bring their publicity and the whole story of a budding couple getting into jewelry design together to a screeching halt and they would undoubtedly lose the following and media support they’d gained because of it.

Joshua became even less favorable by the end of the first confrontation between him and the egomaniac. He was demanding you around at a photo-op, even sternly in front of the photographers—most of which by now were suspicious of the condition of your relationship because really how dare he talk to you like that much less in public—and often grabbed you by the arm and placed you exactly where he wanted you when he wanted you to be there. It was in Joshua’s contract to tolerate minor things like that, but he ground his teeth at just the sight but kept his mouth shut for the duration of the shoot. But when it was finally time to go home, he sure gave a piece of his unsolicited mind.

“Next time, how about you try keeping your hands off,” Joshua commented a bit harshly in the direction of the man who quickly became an enemy.

“Joshua,” you pleaded with him as you were packing your things, but your ex had already turned face to chest Joshua up. He ignored you for a moment, knowing you weren’t in any danger because the only danger to you was currently right in his face.

“I’ll put her where I want, when I want,” was the confident reply.

“Actually, you won’t,” Joshua spat back, eye to eye with the slightly shorter male in front of him. “You will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mister Hong,” you almost barked, his full name flowing from your lips like a command to a soldier, which was in essence what he was. He choked off the growl in his throat as he turned face to return to you while you finished gathering your things, but not without giving the other man—who looked as if that was a battle he’d won instead of a battle he’d just been saved from—a glare that would make his mother pale. You picked up your bag after Joshua helped your jacket on and you left the building.

He did his best to bite his tongue in situations he knew he should just be quiet and wait for your cue or follow the contract to a T. The first gala was an absolute trip—there were hundreds of people, too many asking too many questions, flashing cameras in your face, people crowding left and right and that same smile on your face even he could tell was fake. But he played the part well—he donned a pressed black suit with a lovely fuchsia carnation pinned on his lapel. The only thing that made him out of place was the clear earpiece he had tapped to the microphone in the clip of your hair. If he was too far to see you, he could at least hear you if there was a problem.

It was obvious enough that it deterred people from asking him questions, or even talking to him really, but he wasn’t the only guard on duty so he spent most of his time playing wallflower, lined up with the others as they observed the gala. It was clear that it was strictly forbidden to interact with you under circumstances not outlined in the contract, by direct request of the family of honor. You figured it was fair, as the whole reason you were there was to portray an image and Joshua wasn’t part of it.

Most gala’s he spent gritting his teeth as he stood tall against the wall, watching the way your partner manhandled you just within the boundaries of the contract until it was finally over when he would follow you close out of the venue and take your hand to step you off the curb to let you fall into the passenger’s seat of his car brought around by valet just to get in and grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp and silently take you home, and be paid out on your doorstep—what soon became the routine.

But the routine changed when you grew a little fonder of Joshua when you lingered to leave when you were no longer in need of his services, when sometimes you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car to just sit and process, or to vent, or to just enjoy being in the company of another without the stress of a business agenda. When you finally talked freely about interests outside of this partnership you had with him.  When he walked you to your door and had a little more to say, irrelevant to being paid—things as simple as sleep well, or stay safe, or until next time, things other than thank you for your business. When it seemed as though he was growing fonder of you, too.

And then, the door once cracked opened a bit more when a late conversation turned into a disagreement turned into something else.

You knew he’d been disgruntled with the inability to do anything about the situation, with the way the boundaries were teased and tested and Joshua’s investment in you continued to grow beyond the confines of said contract. It brought on a lot of tension between the two of you, as if there hadn’t been tension on car rides home after parties or showcases or reveals or fundraisers—it didn’t really matter, he took you to and from almost every event.

He was quieter than usual, something you tried to ignore as you tended the bruise against your arm from where you’d been grabbed multiple times throughout the night, mostly minding your own business and exchanged your attention between that and the passing of the city outside the car window. The air conditioning was cool on your skin, soothing on your feet from being pressed in heels all night that you’d slightly kicked off in a bit of relief before he finally broke the silence.

“When are you going to let me give him what’s coming?” Joshua asked you, his tone a little urgent, and startled you a little bit in the deep leather bucket seat of his car. “It’s been five months and time and time again you let him tug you around like a rag-doll and only half the time can I see the discomfort on your face, but a hundred percent of the time I can hear it when you grunt or wince or yelp.”  

You sighed heavily—this wasn’t particularly a conversation you wanted to have.

“He’s within the contract,” you replied.

“Any malicious touch should be outside the contract,” he growled.

“Well then it’s a good thing you didn’t write it,” you replied as he pulled up to your place, shutting the car off after throwing it into park to walk you up to your door like he always did. You had a bottom floor apartment, which made slipping your heels back on and stepping out of the car less of a battle since you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs.  Even though he was a bit put off with you, he still rounded the car to gently take your hand to pull you up from the seat, double-checking to make sure you had everything, and walked you up to your door.

“I wish I had,” he finally replied as you turned the key in the handle to tumble the look to unlock your door. “I wish I had because he would have stopped testing the both of us months ago.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you replied, grabbing the envelope that sat on the table just inside your doorway which already had a predetermined amount enclosed with his name written in fine script across it the same way that it always did. “I hired you to do a specific job, you agreed to adhere to the contract; if you don’t like the contract, we can discontinue this partnership at any time,” you finished.

Part of you couldn’t decide if he hadn’t heard anything you said, or if he was just taking his time to reply, because his gaze was effectively all over your face, refusing to reach up for the envelope. You could see the look in his eyes that generally meant he was thinking, but what came next you almost couldn’t prepare for.

Both his warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up towards his just enough for him to gracefully take your lips with his. Your back softly hit the frame of your door as his envelope crumpled in your hand, and you found yourself instinctively leaning up into his mouth while your free hand momentarily cupped the back of his neck before you came to and nudged him away.

“Joshua…” you muttered a tad breathlessly, breaking the kiss. There were a million things that should have been going through your mind at that point, starting with how unprofessional all of this was, continuing with the image you had to maintain and how this whole thing would interfere with that, and finishing with grappling with your feelings that were turning your stomach over like a fish on deck.

One of his hands had slipped away from your face to hold you steady, warm and wide on your hip, but the other continued to tenderly stroke against your cheek while you looked at each other. His envelope was still clutched in your hand against his side, your other hand sliding away from the back of his neck and down his lapel—you could push him away, you should push him away. You wanted to tell him how many problems this would cause, how complicated this just made everything, but somehow all you could think about was the glitter in his eyes, the mint tones of his breath, and the taste of his pomegranate chapstick.

He must have known it wasn’t a good move because he collected the envelope from your hand without much more delay for thought—your door was already open so he didn’t have to wait any longer as he bid you goodnight, reminded you to sleep well, and turned to be on his way. You found his name stuck in the back of your throat, dying to come out, but also dying to stay in. The implications of the situation swirled in your head, and you gave a rickety exhale before finding your feet enough to retreat through your door.

Business continued as usual, Joshua attended with you as usual, but the only difference was that you were getting progressively more infuriated with the way you were being treated as another month passed. The jig had to have been up, the publicity you were gaining from keeping up the relationship lie had to have faded by now, but the numbers didn’t lie.  Joshua was still at your side, in the background, observing, wherever he needed to be to ensure his job was done correctly.  

You had taken a nasty fall on one of the sets of a photo-op because of an impatient and tugging hand of the typical problem male. Joshua lurched from against the wall as you cursed, the floor hard against your knees, and you stayed on the ground for a moment while your nails clawed against the tile, pushing away the sting.  A sweet voice whispered your name, and you knew who it belonged to, along with the hand that was extended in front of you. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up enough to dust your hands against each other, and daintily place one in Joshua’s large and warm one. He slowly lifted you to your feet, wanting to check your knees which were hidden behind a floral maxi-dress.

“Pathetic, can’t even get up on your own,” your ex-boyfriend spat in your direction, and the sigh that left your lips could have been a call from hell itself.

Your gaze turned up slowly, away from the ground, and up to his face like the inferno was ready to take him through the earth’s crust.  There was a snarl turning at the corners of your nose, and it was clear as day you’d had it up to your eyeballs. Your hand gripped Joshua’s with all the strength you had, and he could only look at you, waiting for your cue, waiting for you to cut him loose before you brought your free hand up and clapped it against the side of the face of your unruly business partner. It was a sound that rang through the room, and by the sound of the cry that exited just a moment after, you caught him upwards on the jaw and probably snapped his teeth together.

He yelled profanities at you, but the exhaustion of his antics were clear in your eyes. Joshua snarled at him when he attempted to approach, but you almost begged for it.

“Do you want another?” you asked him, a tinge in your voice that startled even Joshua. The blood from your split knee was trickling down your leg at this point, you could feel it go, but your one hand clutched the hand it held unwaveringly.  

The way your voice softened when you turned your head to speak to Joshua was like night and day. “My knees are bleeding,” you informed him, feeling them quiver as you continued to stand, bruising imminent. He didn’t hesitate to place your hand against his shoulder to slide around his neck and lift your legs out from under you. Your wicked ex-boyfriend took a step, but Joshua was quick and turned to check.

“Try me,” he growled and waited for an advance that never came before he turned to take you out of the room. One of the photography hands followed the two of you out with a first aid kit but stood aside to let Joshua take care of you. You pulled the dress up past your knees—it was worse than you thought. He requested some water to begin to clean your leg before cleaning the split that was already black and purple and swollen to the hills.

“You must have gone down pretty hard,” he commented, gingerly tending to said wound, but diligently nonetheless to get it cleared away enough to assess. At that point, all you cared about was the bloodstain on the knee of your pretty white dress. The pain was ignorable, your ex was ignorable, Joshua was mostly ignorable, but the pain you felt in your pride from letting him treat you like that which manifested in the stain on your dress was not. You looked at the stain with such disdain as you held it in your hands.

“I’ll get you a new dress,” he muttered after noting the look on your face.

“That’s not the point!” you yelled back harshly. He looked at you calmly, knowing your outburst wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly and turned his gaze back down to bandage your knee, at least well enough to complete the shoot because he knew you weren’t going to leave without finishing it.

And so you did; the blood on your dress could be edited out, so that posed little concern. What did concern you, however, was the attitudes in the room and how they would shift. From then on, every move was checked with Joshua, both your eyes and your ex-boyfriend’s eyes meeting him if he ever even reached for you. Something in the way you’d whole-hand clapped him and the look on Joshua’s face after the fact—he had to have known at that point that he wasn’t ‘safe’ anymore. It was as if he could see that Joshua had been unclipped from the figurative leash.  

You finished the shoot with no further altercations but definitely needed help with some of the positions as your knee was unable to bend certain ways anymore, for the time being. When the shoot was finally over, you stayed on the set couch for a lingering moment as Joshua gathered your things and brought them over to you, but not without clipping shoulders with the trouble-maker himself.  

He had your duffel over his shoulder, creasing the jacket of his suit but refused to let you take it when he was able to get you on your feet again. You looked up at him with a scowl, almost as if to say that you could carry it yourself, but he gave you a skeptical look, not skeptical that you could carry it but that you were injured and he would just as well carry it for you.

You paid the photography crew your respects before beginning to hobble out of the set and eventually out of the building. Joshua offered you his arm as a crutch multiple times that you refused, stubbornly, until he’d finally had enough.

“Please take my arm, or I’ll carry you out of here,” he almost threatened as a gave a smile to the man at the security desk while you passed him, who gave you a curious look as you limped. You wanted to growl, but begrudgingly took his arm anyway; admittedly, it relieved some pain. He put your duffel in the back seat once finally arriving at the car and then opened the passenger’s door for you. Gingerly you lifted your damaged leg into the car first before all but falling in after it and let him close the door behind you.

As usual, he turned on the air conditioner a bit high—you needed to cool off after every interaction you had with your ex on any business excursion you needed to attend. You kept your rage entirely inside which boiled your blood and made your face hot and the cool air was quite helpful to bring it all back. Joshua delayed in starting the car for a moment as he looked over to you to make sure you were okay, but you ignored the pain in your knee and looked out the window, waiting for the car to start moving.  He sighed, noting the bloodstains on the knee of your dress before finally bringing the car to life to take you home.  It was already late into the afternoon, and he knew you’d want time to prepare dinner and shower and other things to relax for the evening, so he didn’t waste any more time.

He took you and your bag up to your front door the way he normally did, only this time with one of your hands wrapped around his arm to steady yourself as you hobbled slowly with your heels in your other hand before you were digging for your keys. Once your door opened, you threw your shoes in and took the duffel bag from him to toss that inside the doorway as well and reached for his envelope on the table, and turned back to him.

Joshua stood tall and respectfully the way he always did, alert with his shoulders square, hands clasps behind his back. Somehow his hair was always immaculate, his suit always pressed with zero hints of wrinkles, too professional; but his eyes looked at you softly, eyes you were looking into deeper and deeper every time you got the chance, eyes that captivated you like nothing else. You clutched the envelope in both your hands, a thought stirring in the back of your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joshua…” you started, trying to get the thought out as the envelope crumpled in your fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, only for you to remind him of your name even though you knew he hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t pay you for this…” you started, crumpling the envelope a little more as you looked down at it, “but I would, if you wanted; I just don’t have any near family and I don’t want to be alone after all that and—”

“I’ll stay, for a bit, if that’s what you need. I’m here to serve you,” he replied, the tenseness in his shoulders dropping a little bit as his hands came forward to cup over yours, stopping you from nervously crinkling his envelope, “And don’t worry about compensating me.”

You weren’t sure how to reply as he finessed the envelope from your hands, setting it back down on the table you always retrieved it from as he walked you slowly back through the doorway of your apartment and kicked his shoes by the door. “Do you mind if I take my coat off?” he asked you, and you were a bit taken aback by the question—he was always dressed professionally, and this was the first time he would be taking his jacket off in front of you. All you could do was nod as you peeled yours off, too, a sweet dark washed cropped jean jacket.  

At some point you remember getting him a glass of water, you remember excusing yourself to change so that you could spot treat your dress and assess the damage on your knee yourself as Joshua made himself at home on your couch. It was the first time Joshua would see you in more casual clothes instead of dolled up for some event, but it was fair because you were seeing him cut a little loose too.  You remember flipping on the TV to drown out the somewhat awkward silence that loomed between the two of you for a bit, before agreeing on what to order for food. It was still a bit early for dinner, so some mindless TV was in order for a little bit. A part of Joshua had expected something else; maybe some feelings dumping or something similar, but he didn’t mind the fact that you just wanted to relish his company.  

That didn’t stop him from consistently looking at you, consistently noting the way your eyes would get a bit glassy before being controlled—you refused to cry in front of him.  He wasn’t there to comfort you, that wasn’t his job, and you didn’t want to make it seem like it was.   But when you could feel him looking at the side of your face a little too hard, you turned to look at him with the intention of asking if he wanted to order food, but ended up getting trapped in his eyes again.  

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t seem surprised. His eyebrows rose for a split second, hardly even noticed as he looked back at you—your eyes were still a bit glassy from the forced back tears. He wouldn’t dare ask you to speak, much less speak about what was on your mind; he had unclear instructions of what he was there for, but it took everything in him to just sit there and say nothing, do nothing.  

He took a leap, and reached over to retrieve your hand closest to him, which happened to be your left hand, and cupped it in both of his.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through; I can’t even begin to imagine how hard and taxing it is, how unbreakable your resolve has been, how strong you have been, but I know that you are.  I know that you are gracious and kind and patient. I know that you are so much than I get to see, so much more than anything he’d ever deserve.”

It was meant to be comforting, to be encouraging, and it was. Somehow, your fingers threaded between his and squeezed, trying to stave the tears that he had inadvertently pushed up to your waterline, and to avoid having him see them fall, you finally turned your face away from his.

“I’m going to order dinner, what would you like?” you asked, voice cracking a little as you quickly stood from the couch to the dismay of your injured knee as your hand left his. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to dab under your eyes, trying to save the makeup you had left. Vaguely, you heard him say something about getting whatever—he would eat whatever you ordered for him—and pulled out the small book of menus from nearby places.

Joshua sat on the couch, the lack of your hand between his somehow more intense when he knew you needed some comfort as he listened to you flip through some pages and eventually dial a number to place an order. He didn’t expect you to return immediately, or even within a reasonable amount of time, which was good because you didn’t.  You continued to stand in the kitchen and grip the counter, pushing your tears back and back and back while trying not to agitate your leg too much; the burn was real from your rush to get up, so you stood on the leg that was still good and bent the other to give it a rest.

Eventually, he was going to have to check on you. He spent plenty of time glancing over to the kitchen to see if you were emerging yet, but it didn’t happen to be the case, so before too long he pushed himself up from the couch as he quietly cooed your name. You had just been rounding the corner out of the kitchen and he’d caught you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own feet and crash right into him. His anticipatory hands were able to catch you, for the most part, one able to catch your elbow while the other controlled your fall into his body. Your hands were a little more unceremonious, one furling in the fabric of his white dress shirt and the other grabbing onto his bicep while you crash-landed into his chest, staggering him a bit.

It was the first time you were really getting a lungful of his fragrance, swirling around you like phantom chains. The first time you were really feeling the solidity of his body and how protective it was capable of being. The first time you were really feeling the largeness of his hands as he steadied your balance by hulling you up against him to set you fully back on your own feet, the second time his wide palm was placed against your hip, which brought back many memories of the first time just outside your front door. He could have been able to hear the way you swallowed, looking right at his throat, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie and a finely pressed shirt collar.

And for a moment, you stood there with complete silence looming between the two of you while your hands found a more comfortable place to rest which happened to be right on the curve of his chest while the other continued to hold his bicep. It was always hard to see under his immaculate jackets, but now that it was just his dress shirt and an undershirt, you could see the way your hands curved against him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally spoke, throat shifting particularly with how low he was trying to keep his voice, his bicep flexing under your hand as his hands slid a little further around you.

“Thank you for catching me,” you replied, “so I didn’t have to fall in front of you, again.”

For some reason, that hit him painfully. He couldn’t decide if it was because he felt guilty for making you feel embarrassed about what had happened in front of him, or because he felt guilty for not being able to prevent it in the first place. Although it felt like a sting, he was fully aware that you were making no effort to move from his grasp which was still settled somewhat around your waist until you had decided it was long enough and shuffled out of his grasp.

Joshua never dared pry about what was on your mind, even as he continued to watch you push tears away. At one point, you did close the gap between the two of you on the couch and sat with him, hip to hip, at least until your food arrived. You ate quietly, really just relishing each other’s presence outside of business hours, and sometimes caught him looking at you a little too long which he would dismiss with a soft smile. But dinner was quick, and you were cleaning up almost as soon as you sat down, it felt. And the sooner you were done with dinner, you feared, the sooner he would leave and that just wasn’t a thought you were ready to deal with yet. You had been grappling with saying something, giving him anything about what was going on with you—he already had a pretty good idea and made that very apparent, but you got nervous and pulled away.

You cleaned up in the kitchen quickly and grabbed Joshua’s empty glass to refresh it after he insisted the water was perfectly fine, before joining him on the couch again. This time you’d switched over the TV to just play music which was also perfectly fine because it seemed to ease the tension that was bubbling between the two of you.

“You know, I know we’re not that close, and I know you hired me, but if there’s anything you want to say, or if there’s anything you want me to do—”

“Does that anything include hauling a body away?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood since it had been a little dark since you first invited him in. He seemed to find amusement in your joke because he chuckled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable with me, like you don’t have to tiptoe around me or like you can’t experience emotions in front of me—I couldn’t even detect a semblance of pain on your face earlier although I know it hurt,” he reminded you.

“I do feel comfortable with you,” you replied, driving the point home by subconsciously leaning over to cozy up to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you were already sitting hip to him. He seemed a bit shocked, jarring for only a moment before relaxing into the way you pressed against him. “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

“Ouch, so expendable,” he jested, resisting settling an arm around your shoulder. He knew from the last time that there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if you were crossing one right now. It was on you what to do, but he couldn’t just take a moment of physical contact as the go-ahead, especially as you pulled away.

“You’re off the clock; you don’t have to be so alert,” you finally added.

“It’s in my nature,” he replied quietly, his gaze casting from your lap and back up to your face. “I can’t help wanting to jump to your defense, even from the threat that’s in your head.”

“At least that tells me that you take your job very seriously,” you replied just as quietly, your voice fading off a bit at the end as his face neared yours a bit more.

“You asked me to come in because you didn’t want to be alone; I think that warrants attention,” he answered. He had a point, but somewhere in the feeling of his warm breath against your cheeks, that point was lost. You knew what was coming, but somehow didn’t have the mind to stop it, or the want to stop it from happening. Your fingers furled into the upholstery of your couch as he came into your space.

“Joshu—” you tried, but the tender way his lips touched against yours cut that off.  There was a familiar touch of his fingertips against the cut of your jaw while his mouth gently slanted against yours. The sigh that exhaled through his nose was exacerbated as one of your somewhat panicked hands took a grip of his tie and tugged, encouraging him to tilt your jaw to his will as he readjusted the kiss.

He broke the kiss for a moment to gauge you, a little too in the moment to remember the first time this happened and what a mistake it was; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the implications, he knew the conditions of your contract with the jewelry gig, he knew the media was keeping watch on your fake relationship, and he knew how much this was forbidden, but that only made him want it more. And you must have felt somewhat the same, because you leaned in to tease his bottom lip with your teeth, feeling the exhilaration of the fleeting freedom from that fake relationship against Joshua’s lips; the way the stress of all of that melted away at the taste of that familiar pomegranate chapstick.  His breath was warm against your mouth, anticipating your next move but you made it clear you were waiting for him as you hesitated while his lip slipped from the gentle grip of your teeth and, tentatively, he took your bottom lip to swipe his tongue against it to delve into another forbidden lip lock.

Breathless, you gave a deep exhale against his mouth as you’d finally come to your senses. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew the two of you were dancing around this chemistry because you knew it would have to be a secret. You’d had all the forethought in the world after the last time about any time you could catch him away from the crowd how badly you wanted to take the lapel of his coat in your hands and melt into him. The last thing you needed was for rumors to start going around about you and him, but in this very moment, as your lips trailed away from his to kiss against the line of his jaw, you seemed to care not. And you knew you would have continued to kiss down his neck the way you’d thought about more times than you’d like to admit out loud if you didn’t know better. But the way his breath hit the air and the way his head tilted back just a bit just begged for a little more.

“Joshua,” you whispered against the slender column of his neck, or what you could reach that wasn’t covered by his completely buttoned shirt as your lips slid up to his ear, “If you don’t knock it off, next time I might not stop.”

A shiver shot down his spine at just the implications of your words. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was complicated, but now he knew that you felt the same way he did, that you knew he just couldn’t help it. His breath hit the air in a huff, a semblance of a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but it faded just as quickly as his head came back down to meet gaze with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he replied, the glimmer in his eyes like the entire galaxy condensed. You agreed on the conditions of your current situation from a simple look, but you could also tell in each other’s eyes how much that didn’t matter. All that mattered was not getting caught. All that mattered was that it was a secret. Even still, something ate at you about the riskiness.  

You stood from the couch for the sole purpose of creating some distance before you completely lost your resolve, although it was still breaking the more you looked at his eyes, the features of his face, the curves and sharpness of his jaw, and his mouth which you were already so acquainted with.

It would be tough, but you knew already quitting Joshua would be harder already, so you both vowed to keep it as down low as possible, and that meant entirely in the ground in public of any kind.

That meant you attended galas and fundraisers with even more disinterest than you had before, and the tugging persisted but now you were being bombarded with questions about your fake relationship—you did your best to remain quiet and let the star of the show answer. You continued to work on designing pieces in the comfort of your apartment and develop them into fine pieces of jewelry and you were still raking in design rights left and right from a company you wanted to break from entirely. It was slowly becoming apparent that no matter what happened between you and Joshua, that company would owe you royalties for your designs, and undoubtedly would ask you to continue designing since you were the top contributor much to your partner’s dismay.

To do your best to avoid suspicion, Joshua often stayed behind at times he would have typically accompanied you. He spent more time playing wallflower than he was used to, especially as you were being bombarded left and right by people who wanted nothing more than your attention than to pick your brain about your designs, but despite the new dynamic of his investment, he was still your bodyguard.   And the more he got invested, the more he hated seeing you put in that fake smile in the arms of a man he already detested; but he vowed to keep his word, and keep his word he did.

Some galas, you just couldn’t take it. Joshua always had a watchful eye on you when you were seated even while Mr. Self-Important was wandering about and entertaining guests, trying to butter them up for a sale or investment of some kind. Occasionally, you’d meet eyes with him before finding your way to your feet and began to weave through the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for him to follow you, as it was agreed he would be keeping eyes on you at all costs.  You made your way through many hot bodies crammed in a too-small room as he tried to keep track of your head bobbing through the crowd before making it into a back room. Still, he followed the sound of your heels against the ornate tile. He followed you quite some time before leading him onto the balcony of a backroom you doubted anyone would be finding even if they were adventuring on their own.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking off like that?” he asked you a little roughly, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your mind to just get up and storm off as if that wouldn’t gather some attention.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you replied desperately, looking back at him as you exhaled sharply. The look in your eyes was enough, an inextinguishable fire burned in your very soul. He almost melted under that gaze, daring to shuffle towards you. You let the fresh air wash against the skin exposed by your evening gown—it was refreshing, to say the least; but the way Joshua was looking back at you made it hard to distinguish the cool air from the fire in your veins.

You begged to step passed him and return to the gala—being out here with him alone spelled bad news for the secrecy of your intermingling lives because you could tell the more that you looked at him, the more you couldn’t stop the way your gaze flittered down to his lips for only a moment before trying to recompose yourself.  But you went to step anyway, not quick enough for his wide hands which strongly took your hips and backed you up against the railing of the balcony.

“Is that why you lead me out here? You had to have known I would follow you,” he asked, a ghost of a whisper in the slight breeze as he leaned down to capture your gaze again, bringing your eyes up to his and you could feel your breath caught in your throat, hands anticipatorily on his forearms through his suit coat.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him this couldn’t happen—not here, not now. The way he continued to step closer to you made the lump bigger and bigger, making it even more difficult to get words out before he was leaned in too close, and only then were you able to squeak anything out.

“It’s dangerous,” you muttered against his mouth, the familiar taste of his pomegranate chapstick and the plush warmth of his lips against yours broke any semblance of control and your hands ruffled through the hair on the back of his head.  It was feverish at first, as if you’d been deprived of him for so long before the actuality of his lips against yours, of his hands on your body tugging you into him finally set in and you calmed down; as did your hands which combed his hair back into place before sitting daintily across his broad shoulders until he broke the kiss off, hypocritically trying to remind you that you were still in public but it didn’t stop the way he placed gentle kisses against your forehead as you leaned into him.

His scent, which you had grown so accustomed to, seemed to be amplified in the quiet wind as you took a deep breath through your nose while his forehead found yours—your eyes remained closed, and it was the most serene moment you’d experienced at a gala to that day. Everything felt at ease, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

But in the following days, a different kind of panic was settling into you when your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep with the front page of a magazine with a photo of you and Joshua out on that balcony that night.  He was red in the face, demanding an explanation from you about how you could be so careless, essentially informing you that he had already had ideas about you and Joshua but trusted that you wouldn’t blow the work you had going.  The thought of being caught had crossed your mind on so many occasions, but late-night talks after late-night talk when he stayed over to calm your nerves, to rub your shoulders and shower you with kisses, you concluded—what were they going to do? What did you care about that fake relationship? What did you care about the publicity of a company you had no investment in other than design rights? Regardless of popularity, you would continue to get royalties from every sale of your designs.  

“This is simply absurd; this is the last thing I had anticipated waking up to. This ruins so many things, in fact, it ruins everything! All the publicity we had going for this startup, you so selfishly ruined!” he screamed at you while you stood in the doorway of your apartment. For a moment, you didn’t care. He had screamed at you many times in the past, so you looked at him unfazed.

“I’m sorry, I’m the selfish one? I’m the one who demanded we keep up a fake relationship for a publicity stunt to… what… keep the jewelry line directly in the media at all times? I’m the selfish one?”

“You have gotten every last bit out of my family and this business and then you go and blow it, getting caught like a fool!”

Your knuckles were turning white with the way you were gripping them under your crossed arms as you looked at him. Your blood was boiling.

“I worked my ass off to provide your family with very successful designs for their line! Remind me again who’s the selfish one!” you spat back in his face, the burn on your tongue feeling like actual flames with how irate you were at this point. “And remind me, what have you done, at all? Have you made any contributions to this business other than providing the media a pretty face to look at?”

He pushed his hand against the door of your apartment and stepped towards you, enough for you to take a few steps back and unfold your arms in the case you had to defend yourself. And you would have, but the rumble behind you that was deep enough, menacing enough to open a rift in the earth’s crust came from behind you.

“Get out,” Joshua threatened, having been standing just behind the door to listen to the exchange. He wanted you to give you your space to deal with it on your own—you deserved to deal with it on your own; it was your position, your designs, your royalties, your contributions to defend. He was there, however, to defend your being.

“You! You are at least half the—”

“Get out!” Joshua repeated, taking a step forward before ripping the magazine from shaking fingers. “I don’t think I have to tell you again. Your little charade is done, and the only one who will suffer is you and you alone. Now get out, or I’ll escort you out.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this—”

“I don’t think that’s the route you want to go,” you interjected. “I own those designs; I am owed royalties on every sale of those designs; whether you like it or not, I have a legal cut of this company which is not contingent on how successful our media façade is. So, if I’ll be hearing from your lawyer about Joshua who has a legal and contracted right to remove you from my property, then you’ll be hearing from mine, who will bury you.”  

There was a shakiness in your voice, indistinguishable between anger and nerves, as Joshua escorted him out of your home and slammed the door behind him.  You stood just beyond the entryway, safe distance within your house to avoid any conflict, but your shoulders heaved.  You could hear the heavy deadbolt flip, locking the door tight before Joshua turned around to face you. He gave you some space for just a moment, but he wasn’t too keen on leaving you standing there looking like the very life had been sucked from your bones for too long.

“It’s over,” he cooed to you, “you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Your gaze crossed the flooring to his feet and ran up his legs, up his body to his face. His mouth housed a tender smile, eyes soft as he looked over you, and somewhere deep in there he could see the relief, the surfacing of tension to let it all go, and for a fleeting moment, you granted him a soft smile as well before he wistfully crossed the floor to take you against his chest.

“I’m proud of the way you stood your ground. You’ll never have to stand it alone again.”

It seemed like a slightly inclined battle for the first month or so. You did hear from his lawyer, and he heard from yours, and it was a winning battle in court to discuss your role within the business. You came to an agreement to keep a position, much to the dismay of your now ex-business partner, and continue working on designs with minimal pressure, and that, the final marker of the decisions, was the nail in the coffin for all the tension to finally free from your body.  You stood in a mostly empty courtroom in a fine skirt-suit as you awaited the verdict—you were too relieved to cry, but Joshua’s hand squeezing yours almost elicited those tears.

It wasn’t long before you moved in together to settle down.

You spent long nights sometimes in the studio working on big sketchbooks loosely doodling designs across the entire page. A lone lamp that illuminated a desk behind your easel was hardly enough to sustain healthy eyesight, but it never seemed to stop you especially when you were struggling to push sleep away from those eyes.  Often, Joshua slipped out of bed to come find you, well into some hours after he’d retired for the night just to sneak into the studio behind you.

He watched the way your hand effortlessly moved across the page, flicking lines down on the paper to craft those rough sketches he knew would eventually turn into fine pieces of jewelry. You had a knack for it, serious vision for jewelry only the elite could afford.

“It’s not light enough in here for your eyes,” he whispered to you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders and upper arms before he’d dig his thumbs in.

“You tell me that every time,” you reminded him quietly, eyes closing to relish the way he pushed some knots away from your shoulders.  

His chuckle was smooth in your ears, dripping down your spine like refined syrup before he pulled up a stool behind you and nestle his arms around your waist, leaving you free enough to continue to work on some sketches, but not without some attempts at wooing you to leave them.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered just behind your ear, only to place a couple of kisses against your neck and nuzzle against your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” you replied, only to feel his arms tighten around you.

“I fell for that too many times; I’m not so naïve anymore,” he reminded you. “They’ll be here for you another day.”

“And so will you,” you answered.

“Ouch, so expendable,” he teased, knowing that you were teasing, too.

“Joshua,” you whined as he kissed down your neck and across your shoulder, only lightly clothed by a loose-fitting tee that was slouching off to the side anyway. But he wouldn’t stop. Especially not as he got up to flick the lamp off, the only light remaining for vision was the hallway light outside the door, which was enough for him to scoop you from your stool to bring both your legs up around his waist and your arms to dangle over his shoulders. He could feel the sleepiness in your body, but your stubbornness persisted as you protested some more. He carried you from the small studio room and down the hallway to flick the light off with his elbow before he was gently laying you in the cool sheets of the bed you shared with him, sealing off any further words with a couple of sweet kisses against your unsuspecting lips.

Despite all your hawing a few moments prior, the soothing sheets underneath you coupled with the warm body that was settling in next to you settled you quite a bit when he turned you into him and you settled into his shoulder, the same way you did every night.

[orangerosebush]

Sturm und Drang

In hindsight, Butler should have realized it would only be so long before his charge grew bored with life within the manor. Artemis Fowl I had made sure the Fowl estate was well stocked with the finest things their fortune could afford: the kitchen had aromatic spices from every inch of the globe; the library was practically bursting with esoteric texts; the walls were adorned with beautiful tapestries and paintings. Artemis Fowl I had beaten the world down so that it fit within the stone walls of Fowl manor, and in theory, his wife and son had to want for nothing. When Angeline had been younger, Butler remembered her leaving on weekend trips to visit her family or friends, but after her son was born, it seemed like she was content to retreat into the beautiful dollhouse her husband had fashioned around her. Perhaps the reality of who her husband was and where she lived had finally sunk in, Butler mused, carrying the tea tray. At least inside she didn’t have to think about the sectarian violence broiling in Northern Ireland, or the heating-up Cold War, or the vile things her adoring husband had done to pay for their life in the manor.

Butler poked his head into the Fowl study, rapping a hand against the door frame. At the desk inside, Artemis Fowl II was curled up in his father’s ornamented leather armchair, nose buried in a book. The boy’s ears perked up at the sound, but he didn’t look up from his reading.

“You weren’t at lunch,” Butler remarked, stepping inside.

“I apologize,” Artemis said, his young voice cold and clipped in a way Butler had never stopped thinking of as strange. “I was busy.”

You’re seven years old, Butler thought, setting the tray down on the mahogany desk. Busy?

“Your mother missed you,” he said instead, and Artemis lowered his book, eyes almost guilty.

“I promise that I will be at dinner.”

“You should eat,” Butler ordered, pushing the tea and toast closer to the boy. Artemis hesitated for a moment, but he finally obliged, taking a small bite out of the portion of the toast with the least amount of jam on it. Artemis chewed thoughtfully, setting the food back down on the plate and pointedly nudging it away. Butler pressed his lips into a thin line. Thank Christ that at least Juliet wasn’t a picky eater.

“May I ask you a question, Butler?”

“Always, Artemis.”

“Where does Father go when he leaves on business?” Artemis inquired, and Butler sighed. He moved the tray on the table, making room for him to rest his weight against the desk.

“He’s on a business trip, Artemis. He’s told you this.”

“Where does he go, though? He won’t tell me what his ‘business’ is.”

Butler shrugged. “Your father told me the same thing.”

Artemis looked at him shrewdly. “I don’t think I believe that, Butler.”

“That’s too bad,” Butler admitted. “Because that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

“You work for me, though,” Artemis argued, brow furrowed. “If you do know more, then you must tell me.”

Frowning, Butler leaned back. “I protect you. I work for your father.”

Sensing that he’d offended, Artemis tried to backpedal. “I… no one will tell me, Butler. Why? I simply want to know more about my father.”

His bodyguard considered Artemis' plea.

“I’m sorry if I seemed dismissive,” Artemis wheedled, prodding further. “I’m… I’m just curious.”

Despite being fully aware Artemis’ apology was motivated more so by ulterior motives than it was by genuine compunctions, Butler softened.

“I know you must miss him,” he relented.

Artemis perked up, sensing he’d succeed in wearing down Butler’s earlier decision.

Butler ignored the voice of Madam Ko in the back of his mind. He wondered if he could absolve himself for a brief moment of weakness surrounding his bodyguard principles.

Artemis was just a boy, Butler thought. And a smart one at that. He doubted that there was a child on earth that could be satisfied with simply artifacts from the outside world.

Reaching to ruffle his charge’s hair, Butler almost smiled at the way Artemis scrunched up his face.

“Why must you and Mother persist in doing that?” Artemis complained.

“Just another grown-up thing, I guess,” Butler ventured, humming good-naturedly when Artemis scoffed.

“What are you reading?” Butler asked after a moment, changing the subject. Artemis glanced back at his book, debating his next course of action. Finally, his excitement surrounding the book he’d been reading won out over his desire to continue pushing Butler regarding his father.

Artemis spun the novel around, allowing Butler to examine it properly. “It’s a collection of short stories by Kenzaburō Ōe. Right now I am on ‘Lavish Are the Dead’.”

Butler nodded, picking up the work and mentally filing the name away. He was nearly positive Artemis fell very short of the intended age demographic.

“What’s it about?”

Artemis’ eyes lit up. “The subject material varies, but the tone is similar between the stories. Ōe’s style is very derivative of French existentialists. I like him more than Sartre and Camus, however.”

“Camus wrote ‘The Stranger’, right?” Butler surmised, looking at Artemis for confirmation. “Read that book during university. I’ve never forgotten the way the author described the old man’s sickly dog. Poor animal,” Butler reproved, tsking.

Artemis nodded. “Yes, that was Camus. ‘Lavish Are the Dead’ is similarly macabre in the service of its philosophy.”

Butler thumbed to the first page of the short story to which Artemis referred. He narrowed his eyes, reading silently. Artemis continued on, unconscious of Butler’s increasingly deepening frown as the man scanned through gruesome paragraph after paragraph.

“I suppose it can be read in many ways. One view would be that it’s a meditation on the forgetting of the Pacific War, despite the violence’s profound impact on the cultural psyche. However, it could also be read as the submerged presence of the Korean War in Japanese society, memory, and culture. I’d argue both critiques come mainly from the perspective of the intellectual establishment, be it that it is both Ōe and the protagonist studied French literature at the University of Tokyo.”

“Artemis,” Butler said slowly, resisting the urge to rub his temples or to throw the offending text from the room. “This is about dead bodies being kept in the medical faculty of a university.”

His charge tilted his head, blinking owlishly. “On a literal, textual sense, I suppose so, yes.”

Butler made a face, putting the book down. “It’s not appropriate for you. It’s… too much. You’re too young to be reading something like this.”

“I asked Father. He’s the one who brought it back from Tokyo,” Artemis offered lightly.

Butler floundered, unsure.

To push the matter, Butler would have to either insinuate the Fowl patriarch was so absentminded as to not curate the reading material of his son or he would have to insinuate that the man had made an incorrect call in judgment. Either would be a challenge to Artemis Sr.’s authority. Either would be making a statement on which of the two had more of a say over Artemis’ behavior. An absentee father or a paid caretaker — Artemis was beginning to test the waters of which of the two men had more of a claim to be the male figure to whom he deferred, Butler realized.

Artemis watched Butler, waiting for a response.

“I see,” Butler noted, being careful to keep his tone even. Artemis’ eyes widened, a motion that would have been nearly imperceptible had Butler not been searching for a reaction on the boy’s face.

The surprise vanished from Artemis quickly, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

Rising, Butler pushed the book back towards Artemis. “Yes. If he approved the book, then I am fine with it.”

“You have no further opinion on the matter?” Artemis pressed.

Butler shrugged. “I’m just your bodyguard. Is my private attitude towards the matter necessary?”

A completely bullshit statement.

Butler knew that.

Artemis knew that.

Hell, it was likely even Artemis Sr. knew that.

Butler blamed Artemis Sr., just a bit. Usually, the Fowls and Butlers were closer in age. As eerily as the young Fowl might present himself, it was hard to not feel parental twinges towards the boy when Butler’s primary duties as a bodyguard were mundane things — things like keeping Artemis from skinning his knees around the house or preparing meals for him and Juliet. The Major and Artemis Sr. were unambiguously boss and bodyguard, but Butler, who had to force himself to not subconsciously categorize both Artemis and Juliet as his kids, and Artemis, who knew his father as a visitor to the house instead of a permanent fixture? Their dynamic was undoubtedly more fraught, unspeakably more complicated to unpack.

But Butler couldn’t bring himself to give words to his failure. To do so would make it irreversible. It’d be the final nail in the coffin he’d fashioned for himself.

So he pushed the tea tray closer to Artemis, quietly getting up to leave.

Disappointed, Artemis moved to pick his book back up, returning to his previous activity.

Pausing in the doorway, Butler turned, faltering.

Artemis didn’t lower the book, but his eyes tracked Butler’s every movement like a hawk. “Yes?”

“Artemis,” Butler began, hand curling around the doorframe with uncharacteristic timidity. “Your father said he’d be home tonight. You can ask him about his trip at dinner.”

“...Will you be joining us?”

“No.”

“I see,” Artemis commented neutrally, fixing Butler with a pointed stare.

Ignoring the way his feelings stung, Butler let his hand fall from the door, turning away.

“Make sure that you eat your lunch, Artemis,” Butler said at last, weary.

“Mhm.”

Both the toast and the tea remained untouched.

[meigh-day]

Obligation (Tendou x Reader)

I seriously didn’t think I would be back writing a brand new story already (I can feel the looks of betrayal from the 6 other fics I was writing previously.). It’s been like a day since I finished Breathing Lilies, but here I am with a great need to get this story out of my brain. So please enjoy yet another Tendou centric fic. 

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Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Mentions of Guns/Knives and Violence

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.8k

Next

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"Is this really necessary?" You mumble out in irritation.

"Watch your tone." Kimura warned, emphasized by the look he directed at you. He’d been taking care of you since you were twelve, playing both guardian and bodyguard when the need arose. Your parents had been special to the family and when they had both been taken out during a job, you were left to Kimura to look after. Over the years, you had tried to weasel your way into some kind of work within the family, anything would have done. You'd have been happy even just guarding a door but that meant you'd need a gun and Kimura had made it clear you weren't permitted to even hold a gun, let alone learn to use one. You'd even tried to get in on the boring office work but for whatever reason any and all attempts were thwarted and thus you were left to your own devices within the confines of the house.

With a sigh you force yourself to sit upright in the chair. You had been slouching like a moody teenager and he deserved more respect than that.

"I apologize, Sensei. Please continue."

The older man let out a sigh before continuing. It's not like he was a big fan of this idea either but they needed to ensure the relationship with the Shiratorizawa group remained intact and this seemed to be the preferred method the rest of the family had agreed upon.

"It's going to take place in about a month but they want you to go stay with them before-hand so you can get to know him and get familiar with how they do things."

You chew thoughtfully at the inside of your lip as you ponder this new development. It wasn't uncommon to arrange a marriage between families to secure a new alliance or to further strengthen an old one. Now, it was your turn. For years you had complained about not being able to do something for the family that had continued to take care of you in the absence of your parents but, now that your time had come, you couldn't help but feel a little hesitant. Marrying someone you had never met wasn't your idea of romance but that didn't matter. You nod a little bit as you steel yourself, mentally preparing as you come to terms with the decision that had been made on your behalf.

"Do, do you know who it is?" Kimura nods at your question, crossing his arms as he takes a few paces across the room.

"Tendou Satori." That name, it sounded so familiar but you couldn't quite seem to bring up his image in your mind.

"You actually met him once a few years ago."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. He helped tie-up some loose ends in connection to the gang who..." He faltered for a moment, even though it had been so many years, he could still see the sadness in your eyes over the loss of your parents. It had taken several years to track down and wipe out every single rat that had had a hand in your parent's death. The family had lost a number of valuable people that day, and they made sure everyone involved paid for it dearly. You glanced up and over at him, already knowing the words before he said it, and with that brought a vision of crimson hair.

"Oh." You nodded and your sensei understood you knew the person he was referencing.

"I'm sorry. I know he's not the nicest looking person. Red hair and eyes like a demon and a personality to match."

To that you said nothing. That was not the person you remembered. In your memories you saw a smile with kind eyes to match and the loveliest red hair. Honestly, even after all these years, he was still the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Tendou had only stayed at this house for a short time but each day the two of you managed to find one another. Maybe you unconscientiously sought him out, maybe he did the same, or maybe it was just fate or a coincidence. Talking with him had been a treat and you sorely missed him when he'd finally had to return home.

"When am I expected?"

"Tomorrow."

With a nod, you offer the older man a bow before leaving. He watched you leave and let out a little sigh before retrieving his phone.

"It's me. Yea. She's gone to pack. Hm? No she understands." He listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, pacing across the room to stare out the window. You had taken this so casually that it made him a little nervous. Not that you were the type to argue but he was so sure as soon as he’d told you who it was you were being forced to marry you would at least try talk to him into getting you out of it. Instead, you were on your way to your room to pack. He was less that excited to know you were going to be married to the monster of the Shiratorizawa group. Tendou was good at what he did, it was absurd how good he was actually. Kimura had seen the aftermath of the red-head's work and it had left even a veteran like him feeling uneasy. Now he had to send you off into that creatures clutches tomorrow and there was a good chance he might never see your precious face again. There was nothing to be done for it though, in the end you had a purpose to fulfill and he would make sure you got there. After that it was up to you to decide how you would handle the rest.

.

..

...

..

.

Presently, you found yourself standing in a rather large vestibule, your luggage sitting off to the side. As your eyes roam the room, you find yourself nervously toying with the hem of your shirt. An assortment of emotions plagued you as you stood waiting. You were scared, you'd had zero interactions with the people in this house and had no idea what to expect. You felt sad, you'd had less than 24 hours to say goodbye to everyone who had been a part of your life until this point. However, mixed into the sadness and the fear of the unknown, was excitement. You were genuinely looking forward to seeing Tendou once again. There was sure to be a bit of awkwardness, you were, for lack of a better term, being forced to marry each other. You wondered if he would even remember you. It had been a few years since then and it was such a short time, you couldn't imagine you had made any kind of real impression on him.

That's where you were wrong. Satori, like you, didn't remember your name right away but when reminded of that job a few years ago, your pretty face came rushing back to him. That had been the happiest series of weeks he could recall in a long time. Everyday the two of you would inevitable run into each other and spend the following minutes..sometimes hours...chatting and joking. The sound of your laugh had become his favorite song for those few weeks and he'd have given anything to hear it once more. So, when the time came for him to leave, his only qualm was that he'd had to leave you behind. At first when he'd been told they were marrying him off to a perfect stranger, he'd been ready to spill blood. His tune changed completely when they'd told him it was you. He was so thoroughly happy, for a little while anyway. Sure you hadn't know each other for long but at least you had met and every memory of you was bliss. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world but he could only imagine how you were feeling right now. The prospect of being forced to marry him, it must have been so terrifying.

Tendou was all to familiar with what people said about him, he'd used those rumors to his advantage. They helped him built up a fairly fearsome persona, though it wasn't all bullshit. He really, truly, was a terrifying being to behold when it came to completing his work. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, dripping with someone else's blood. But that wasn't all there was to him, he was still just a person, just a human being. He loved to laugh and share jokes, though they went fairly unappreciated around here. He happily devoured Shonen Jump each week, the shelves in his room practically sagged with the weight of the collected issues. He was the demon, the monster, of the Shiratorizawa Group, but he was still just a human and part of him desperately wanted to feel something akin to love. Even so, he knew there was no way someone as wonderful as you, someone so charming, so beautiful inside and out, could really truly fall for a beast like him. He knew you would do your duty and you would do it well but that's all it was, a duty, a job, a burden.

So with a sigh, he made his way through the house to collect you. He wore black from top to bottom, the only pop of color on his entire person was his dazzling red hair. You had to grit your teeth to refrain from gasping when he entered the room. He cut an impressive figure, leaning casually against the door frame, his calculating red eyes on you. You remembered he was handsome, but had he always been THAT good looking. It wasn't fair. Suddenly you felt very plain and underdressed in comparison to him. The knee-length jacket he wore on top of his outfit fluttered behind him as he crossed the threshold into the vestibule.

"It's been awhile, Y/N." He offered up a grin as he drew closer to you. Had you always been this pretty? The expression on his face did little to betray the thoughts racing around his mind as he took in your appearance. His memory of you couldn't compare to the vision before him now. You were looking up at him with wide eyes but he couldn't tell if it was in fear or awe. Though, assuming it was the former he let the grin on his lips fade until his mouth was pressed into a line.

"It's nice to see you again, Tendou." You smiled up at him, truly happy to see him again and feeling somehow lucky. Honestly, arranged marriages often ended up in extremely unfortunate pairings. Somehow you had hit the jackpot.

He hummed in response, the negative thoughts prickling in his mind wouldn't allow him a moment to just consider perhaps you meant it. Instead he noted how well you were already performing under this obligation. He hefted your two suitcases up and started back towards the door he came in.

"Wait! Let me help you with those." He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. It's the least I can do as your future husband."

[sahbibabe]

Darkstar

Darkstar

Rufus Shinra/Fem! Reader

In which you get stuck with watching Darkstar, Rufus's loyal hound, after Reno decides he would rather do something more interesting with his time.

Needless to say, you catch Rufus's regard, but in the most miniscule of ways.

Darkstar absolutely adored you and it was all Reno's fault. In hindsight, you should have known that the Turk would have saddled you with the giant purple hound the moment Rufus had been forced to part with the canine to make a show to the public.

'Take care of the hound,' he had said. 'It'll be fine,' he said. 'Boss won't even know you had him,' he added as he had walked out the door.

'Fine', your ass.

It had been three hours since then and the damnable redhead was supposed to have picked him up nearly an hour ago. Not that Darkstar was complaining, oh no, the odd feline and canine mix was lying complacently at your feet underneath your desk, his head in your lap, taking in the offered scritches with relish. Even when you had shifted from the boring gray couch to your desk, he had followed, butting your hand to force you to pet him.

If you hadn't had your itinerary cleared by Rufus himself after being notified that the public speech would last well into the night, you would find Reno and kick his ass then push him down the highest staircase in the building. You had fantasized about it for at least thirty minutes, Darkstar slobbering all over your fingers when you paused in your scratching, but you quickly snapped out of it when you heard the tell tale whir of helicopter blades on the roof.

"Well, Darkstar," you hummed, scooting your chair back and allowing the large dog to clamber out from under your desk,"looks like your charge is back."

He huffed out a breath through his nose and took the edge of your skirt between his teeth, dragging you outside of your office and up the staircase to the landing pad where Tseng stood patiently, holding the President's itinerary for the week. The male look extremely surprised to see you being pulled along by the hound, unusual for him, and the surprise faded to faint amusement as you skidded to a halt beside him. Darkstar waited patiently at your side, releasing your skirt in favor of nudging your fingers to pet him.

"I see Reno decided to leave Darkstar with you against President Rufus's orders."

"Yes, well, there was nothing I could do." You fixed your skirt and sighed at the holes poking through from sharp teeth. "He disappeared the moment he got the words out. I will say, however, that Darkstar makes far better company in an otherwise empty floor."

Tseng nodded in understanding. "I expected nothing less of him. [Name], is it?"

"Yes. [Name] [Surname]. I'm one of President Rufus's lower secretaries." You cleared your throat politely as Darkstar wove between your legs, nearly throwing you off kilter, and sat down, letting out an odd rumbling purr that was neither cat nor dog. "Please, Darkstar, don't…"

The hound was as stubborn as its owner and nearly as clever. It opened one eye to look at you then nudged your hand obstinately, turning to fix Tseng a stare that dared him to stop him. The man simply raised an eyebrow and looked forward towards the helicopter where several guards stood, escorting President Rufus Shinra himself out of the cab.

Every time you saw the president, which was maybe once or twice a week, he never ceased to impress you. He was prettier in person than he was on television, but it was his personality that you really wanted to take a crack at. There was no way that the man didn't have demons; he had to have plenty to be the heir of Shinra, after all. That cool and aptly worn arrogance had to break sometime and you wanted to be there when it happened.

But for now, you were more worried about your cushy secretary job and the dog between your legs that could get you fired, or worse, gotten rid of. Darkstar was keeping an eye on Rufus as he approached, dutifully going about his duties, but remained underneath you and Tseng's amused regard.

"He seems to like you." Tseng turned forward. "Mister President."

"Tseng." Rufus's eyes, steely blue and glowing, were critical as he assessed his bodyguard eagerly butting his ears between your hands. Then, he took his time moving from the dog to you, taking in the holes in your skirt, the standard issue blouse you wore, and then your face. "And who are you?"

"This is [Name] [Surname], one of your lower secretaries, sir. Reno apparently showed up and left Darkstar with her." Tseng sent you a sideways glance. "As to be expected."

"I see." And that seemed to be it; Rufus and his unnerving gaze turned from you in dismissal to his bodyguard. "Darkstar, come."

The hound rumbled in displeasure but rose to its feet to follow its owner. He gave your fingers a final nudge before loping after Rufus, falling in line with the man's footsteps until they disappeared behind a corner.

As you gave an apology to Tseng and made your way back to your office, keen on changing into a new skirt and hightailing it home, you had a little inkling that this wouldn't be the last time you would be seeing Rufus Shinra because of Darkstar.

Far from it.

[justboredtingz]

Yes, Your Highness || Kenma x reader 🔞

I’ve had this on my mind for awhile now and I decided I might as well write it so here’s an AU where reader is a female knight in charge of taking care of Kenma. In this story, the reader is bigger than kenma in my head so idk lol 

It was almost sunset by the time you finished your chores around Prince Kenma’s quarters. He sat idly on his bed, waiting for you to finish so you could bathe and prepare him for sleep. The king had only the best knights of the kingdom protect his son. Originally, If you weren’t out on a quest per the king’s commands, you would be standing guard outside the Prince’s quarters during the night. You were even the one to escort him whenever he had business outside of the castle. You’ve had quite a few conversations with the prince, usually during times when he wasn’t able to sleep during the night. However, the Queen realized Kenma had taken a liking to you and ordered you to become somewhat like his personal servant and bodyguard. “He’s never interacted with someone so much before! It might be because you’re both the same age, but I trust you to make sure he is cared for at all times!” Of course, you had no problem with it. He wasn’t a difficult person to be around, especially since he never gave you trouble. In the end, you ended up having to stay in the room right next door to his for safe keeping. Whenever he needed you, you were always there, even when it was just for some company. 

It’s been half a year since this sudden change to your daily routine and you found yourself falling for the cat-like prince. I mean who wouldn’t? All of the princesses from other kingdoms have their eyes set only on him. He’s literally the perfect prince. It doesn’t help it that you spend almost every second with him. You get to see him at his best and his worst and you love it all. Honestly, if you had to, you don’t think you could go a day without seeing your precious prince. 

“I’m almost done folding your clothes, your highness, afterwards I’ll run your bath and make sure to put extra bubbles in it! I apologize for making you wait so long..” you gave him a soft smile. He only nodded at you before looking down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes patiently. it’s a cute habit of his that he does way too often. 

After folding what seemed like every piece of clothing Kenma owned and starting the prince’s bath, you looked over to see him sleeping soundly, a subtle snore escaping his lips. You found yourself walking over to his bed, sitting on the edge as softly as possible trying not to wake him. Kenma had always slept so peacefully when you were around. Although he never verbally said it, it was obvious from his actions that he put his full trust in you and was comfortable enough to be so vulnerable around you. 

You studied the soft features of his face. Long lashes, plump lips that were just the right size, the silky hair that graced his forehead. He was truly a beautiful prince. 

Shaking his body ever-so gently, you spoke in a hushed tone,” Your highness, it’s time for your bath. I would have liked to let you sleep but the Queen would never forgive me if I allowed you to in such attire.” 

Kenma’s eyes fluttered open, exposing his honey, almost golden irises. He sat up enough to let you begin undressing him from his day clothes, before slipping him in your arms to carry him to the bathtub. You remember the first time you had to bathe him, getting over the embarrassment of having to wash a person the same age as you, You were absolutely SHOOK at how smooth and purely untainted his skin was. This is when the first sinful thoughts came into play. Just think of all of the marks I could leave on his body, he wouldn’t be so pure anymore~

The first few minutes of you scrubbing his body were spent in silence. Kenma was never one to talk much, even when it came to you. You sat in a stool behind the tub, lathering shampoo into his hair and making sure to massage his scalp. For some reason, the tension in the air felt different than usual. It felt almost intimate. 

Suddenly, Kenma leaned his head back enough to where you could look into his eyes. You had stopped what you were doing, a confused expression on your face.

“What’s the matter, your Highness?” You removed some of the soapy hair that was stuck on his cheek. He didn’t reply, giving you time to become hypnotized by his piercing gaze.

Ba-dump

 It took everything in you not to kiss the boy. not to make him completely yours. He didn’t have to say anything to make your heart beat out of your chest. His eyes did all of the work. Your thoughts went back to everything you could do to him. As a knight, You’ve had plenty experience, with both women and men, and you were set on showing Kenma all of your skills one day. He’d be in for a wild ride. 

“join me.”

A moment had passed before it finally clicked in your head and you almost fell out of your stool, “ HUH??!?!”

Seems like that day came earlier than expected.

His straight-faced expression never changed, but his voice was low and it took him a second to repeat himself, ”I want you to join me.”

You couldn’t help the smirk appearing on your lips, “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate, your highness?”

He didn’t respond, only pouting with a shrug of his shoulders before averting his gaze. You didn’t like that. That’s not the expression that you want on his face.

“make room..” Although the tub was a nice size, you were somewhat bigger than kenma, that being in height and in muscle. You began taking off the layers of clothing you had on. You never wore your armor doing chores around the Prince’s room, only a simple gown that was easy to move around in. Never breaking eye contact with the prince, you stripped from your clothes. He watched you intently , his straight face never faltering. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking and It filled you with so much anticipation, your body seemed to shiver. 

As you stepped into the tub, Kenma scooted up some to let you position yourself behind him, one leg on either side of his body, you tried to keep some distance so your chest wouldn’t be directly on his back. 

Self-control was getting harder and harder to hold on to, not with the way he watched you from the corner of his eye. The air became so thick with many different emotions that it could have been sliced with a knife. You could just picture it, having him under you, whining to touch him more, to please let him cum. The thought sent a tingling feeling from your toes straight to your finger tips. Maybe it’s the heat of the tub, or just because you haven’t been pleased in awhile, but you needed him.

You began washing his hair once again to get your mind off of the sinful thoughts overwhelming it. It wasn’t helping that Kenma was letting out such satisfying noises from your ministrations. 

“Does that feel good, your highness?”  Smiling down at him, he leaned back against your chest, squishing your breast against his back to look up at you. His eyes were low and somewhat darker than usual, probably from the heat. He didn’t speak, only replied with a nod and a content sigh. 

You let your hands travel farther down his body, swiping the sponge across his chest. Although you were focused on cleaning him, Kenma never looked away from your face. He was only centimeters away from yours, your breath fanning over his lips. Swiping a little bit too harshly over his nipple, Kenma held in a groan, his eyes becoming even darker. 

Your smile slowly changed into something more sinister,” What was that, puddin’? Did you like that?” repeating that same motion, you stroked the sponge across his nipples once again, getting a more intense reaction from the prince. 

Kenma dropped his head down, this time fully letting out a moan. damn, what a sight. A pretty prince damn near crumbling in your hands, and you haven’t even done anything yet. 

You brought one hand to his cheek, pulling his face back to yours while the other ghosted over his lower abdomen. He focused on your eyes before lowering to look at your lips. ah fuck it.

Your mouth was moving before your brain could even think, “ Do you want me to touch you, puddin’?” You let your lips barely graze over his, trying to see if he would move away or not. When he only licked his lips, part of his tongue touching your bottom one, you continued,” Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Kenma letting out choked “yes” was all you needed to wrap your arms around his body, grasping his already erect cock while the other held him around his torso. He reached one of his hands up to bury it in your hair, forcing you into a heated make-out session. 

Your thumb skinned over the tip of his cock, causing a gasp to fall from the prince’s lips and his head to be thrown back. He’s never been touched like this before, and it was showing. You took this chance to attack his neck, leaving little red marks here and there. As much as you wanted to make marks that would last, you knew someone would see them and find out about your little fun time, and you’d rather be able to stick around with the prince a while longer. While one hand continued to tease his pretty cock, the other found its way into kenma’s hair, pulling it back to give you better access to his throat. there you peppered and licked hot kisses from his chin to his jaw line, then straight to his ear lobe.

 “You could have told me sooner that this is what you wanted. You know my duty is to serve you, your Highness.” The hand teasing his cock went and groped his balls, massaging them in a way that turned kenma dizzy. He ended up pushing closer to your body, the feeling of your pert nipples scraping across his back sending tingles down your spine.

“(y/n)...please.” He had his eyes closed shut while his mouth was drooped open in pure bliss. You felt him grind into your hand, trying to force more friction. 

“Hm? What was that puddin? I don’t know what you want unless you tell me?” you teased.

“I-”

“No puddin, look me in the eyes and tell me what I can do to serve you.” When he opened his eyes, you gave him a sweet smile. His features were painted with rose, eyes clouded with nothing but pure lust. Even like this, his beauty never faded. 

“ Make me cum, (y/n).. ” He breathed out.

“yes, your highness.” With a satisfied hum, you brought yourself to your knees, getting kenma to sit on the edge of the tub with his back against the cold tile. 

“I want to hear you, okay?” You placed yourself between the prince’s knees, taking his pretty pink cock in one hand, giving it one good pump before letting your tongue explore the tip. A lewd moan fell from his lips while hands weakly gripped your wrist. 

You stared up into intense gold as your tongue traced all around his tip and along his slit. Other than the soap, you tasted the slight saltiness of precum along his tip.  

“Fuck, yes.” Kenma moaned in a raggedy tone. His cocked twitched in your hand as if he was already about to reach his release.

“potty mouth are we? I haven’t even started and you’re already about to cum? Puddin’, you wanted me this much?” Finally, You dragged you tongue along the underside of his entire length, before taking him into your mouth. Starting off by slowly bobbing your head, Your tongue never stopped swiping along his tip, making sure to give it extra attention. 

Kenma couldn’t stop the moans from falling out, turning you on so much you couldn’t help but use your free hand to try to relieve some of the pressure in your core.

“You taste so fucking good, puddin~”  you praised, speeding up your bobbing. The tip of his cock only reached the back of your throat, but thick enough to make you drool. Your fingers never stopped working your clit, occasionally dipping down to feel at your entrance. 

“(y/n), fuck, please, yes, i’m so-” His voice was so strained as he jutted his hips into you, which encouraged you to take him in deeper, so deep your nose was able to touch his pelvis. Your eyes watered but if felt as if this is what you were meant to be; you were meant to please Kenma in any and every way. 

His cock throbbed in your throat and kenma’s pace became sloppy. His back arched off of the wall, head thrown back in a whiny mess. You felt yourself come undone in the bath water, a moan rumbling in your throat, vibrations going straight to his cock.

With one last harsh suck, you milked him of his release, salty white cum shooting into your mouth, covering your wet muscle. He looked back down at you and you showed him your cum-covered tongue, which caused his face to turn into a darker shade of red. such a pure boy~

An idea came to mind.

“Wanna taste?” you brought him back down into an open-mouthed kiss, dominating his lips and drawing moans from deep within him. The semen dripping down from both of your chins fell back into the tub, neither of your caring. Kenma broke away from the kiss, trying to get a breath of air. He looked sinful. His own cum dripped for the corners of his mouth,eyes blown out with lust, seeming lost from his recent orgasm. The soapy hair of his head stuck to his cheeks, lips puffed out from the abuse. Just pure sin. This image will be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“You did so well, your highness~” You wanted to do so much more to him, you were no where near done yet, but a man’s voice from outside of the bathroom brought you back to your senses.

“Prince Kenma? I know it’s quite late but a princess from 3 kingdom’s away has came to see you. She’ll be staying the night for a couple of days. The queen asked me to come retrieve you.” You noticed the voice to be Kuroo’s, your fellow knight and partner. 

Kenma looked into your eyes in a plea to continue, but duty came first. In the end he was going to have to marry a princess, not you, no matter how much head you’d give him. 

“I was just getting him ready for bed, Kuroo. If you would give us a moment so I can dress him appropriately.” You sighed. 

Leaving one last kiss on his lips, you retrieved a few buckets of water to rinse both you and the prince off before getting dressed.

~~~~~

In your full set of armor, you escorted Kenma to main dining room area, where you saw a beautiful lady, although looking much older than the prince, dressed in a fluffy, silk dress sitting next to the spot Kenma usually seats himself. She was chatting with Kuroo, obviously flirting. Glancing down at Kenma, he did not look happy. 

You bent down to whisper near his ear, “Is there something the matter, your highness? Are you not pleased with the princess?”

He looked at you through his peripheral vision with a pout and spoke in the same tone as you,” It’s not that.. I-.. Can we finish where we left off?..”

You couldn’t help the smirk gracing your lips. Blowing softly on the prince’s ear, you laughed through your nose, “Of course, your highness~”

Aw hell idk. I might make this a 2-3 part series? if people like this enough. oof