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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months ago

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CAT-EYES

PAIRING: Runaway Groom!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Thief!Reader

SYNOPSIS: What begins as a normal day of stalking the back road for wealthy carriages, turns into a walking nightmare spanning three days. Who is this finely-dressed man stumbling about your woods?

WORDCOUNT: 13.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, injury, light gore, pining, intense banter, sarcasm, insults, kind of enemies-to-lovers but eh, angst, protective!John, light hurt/comfort, bittersweet?, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You were sitting in the branches again.

Lightly swinging your legs from over the sides, the rough bark at your spine shifted as you let out a tiny sigh into the chilled air. In your ears, you’re hearing the bugs fly past, and the large hart about fifteen feet away pushing through the undergrowth—built body just barely there as the puff of his hot breath wafts upwards.

Twirling the arrow between your fingers, your bow sitting carefully in your lap, you close your eyes and listen.

The years had come and gone and yet you remained here in this small corner of nowhere—resting in this old gnarled oak tree with its branches and leaves giving protection from the elements when nothing else would. Sure, you had a small home to call your own in these very woods, but your windows didn’t give a view of the back road to the East. Barely anyone took it now, and you think you’re partially to blame for it, but, well, perhaps those pesky nobles shouldn’t have been too prone to flashing their coin.

So it was their fault, and on your failing honor, the money always went to a good cause anyway. Who wouldn’t want a poor woman to eat?

But, no. There are rules that every thief follows, no matter how unsavory. You never killed anyone; you never harmed them, either. Just the money—a brandished dagger or an arrow to the side of a carriage wouldn’t hurt anything besides pride, and many of those you stole from had enough to last them multiple lifetimes.

“Greedy fellows,” you sigh under your breath before you stretch like a cat, arching your spine and spreading your arms high above your head. The few rays of sun you get through the leaves dance across your face, but still, the thick layer of cold air is present all around.

Shuffling a bit in your shoulder-wrapping, you yawn and fall back once more—licking your lips and thinking of warm stew and fresh bread from the inn down in the town. Shivering, your fingers move to play with your bow, tapping along the bend of wood as the trees are brushed by a soft breeze. The hart below huffs louder still—hooves crushing across the fallen twigs, and you think it’s a bit strange the thing is still here despite your scent clearly in the air, but your eyes are more focused on the road than an animal.

Until it speaks.

“Hells fuckin’ bells, this damn get-up is going to be the death of me,” the words are barked out quickly—laced with heated anger as a branch is slapped by heavy hands.

Startling, your head snaps below you rapidly; heart jerking inside of your chest so suddenly that you nearly send yourself off the side of your perch. Scrambling for your bow to make sure it doesn’t clatter to the dirt of the Earth, you force down a loud gasp at what you see.

“Bastard things,” meets your ears as you stare open-eyed at a bulky man as he stumbles out into the small clearing below your tree, looking behind him as he pants. Your jaw goes slack at the extravagant apparel clothing this sudden stranger—a red, black, and blue tartan thrown over his shoulder, pinned with the silver image of a great boar head, and the kilt has more than one bramble stuck into it as it swishes with his turn.

He has a sporran as well, made of dark furs with three tassels hanging, the metal also silver, as your experienced eyes can tell as they narrow in confusion.

“What in the hell…” You breathe quietly, leaning just a bit more over the edge of your branch slowly.

There were black belts and buckles, rich shoes of leather, and your gaze slowly drags to the hanging body of a sword strapped to his waist, swinging as the man rests his feet and looks down at himself with a deep annoyance. There wasn’t an inch of him not coated in dirt, mud, or sweat—all that deer-ish panting and huffing escaping his mouth in condensed clouds.

“Fuckin’,” he stops himself from continuing the curse, holding up his hands as he glares down at his form. “Jesus, this’ll never come out at this rate.”

This comment made your lips twitch, eyebrow-raising as your sharp vision filtered from one detail to the next—learning the brown shade of his cut hair and the strange way it’s kept long down the center, and short along the sides. He had a strong build to him, and the boar broach, while it may be something to distinguish a family line as he seemed wealthy, perfectly reflected the individual.

He was a being of muscle and stubborn willpower. All tusk and bristled fur.

Your eyes linger a bit longer on the silver of that broach—the thing that glints in the light alluringly. You hum under your breath, tilting your head softly. Yet, your impression was made, and your wits are about you as sharply as they always had been.

This was a formal outfit, for a formal occasion. So, why was this important man trampling through the woods where you were set to ambush the next unassuming noble on the road? Why was he looking over his shoulder so tense-like? Your curiosity had piqued the second you’d figured out the rabid crunching from the bushes wasn’t a deer but instead, a wealthy-looking man who wasn’t, you admitted, too hard on the eyes.

Blinking, you smile, fingers twitching over your bow as the stranger brushes his vest rapidly, growling down at the large mud stains.

“Lost, then?” Your voice makes him startle, skull whipping forward to the tree trunk until you whistle and lean forward; moving your bow to push away the cover of leaves. “Up here, now,” blue eyes immediately lock with yours and you hum, chuckling, at the moment of shock that shines through. “Poor bastard, look at you and all that mud. You’ve been through hell, mate, eh? By the state of you, I’d say you fought a bear and found yourself at the end of an unfortunate outcome.”

Your words are smooth—nearly sly just as they always are. There’s intent leaking out of every one of them until all that remains is a layered purpose, like that of a butcher peeling away flesh from a hide. You have to process that skin: lay it to a rack to let it dry before it can be stretched to the desired firmness, and, finally, softened.

You took as much pleasure in the mental hunt as you did the payoff. Where there’s money to be earned, there’s also knowledge—you were a thief of all.

The man watches you with wide eyes, those blues glinting as they blink, glancing around rapidly to check for any others like you that may be hiding. He steps back, a hand brushing his sword, and you think to yourself slowly, he’s smart.

You breathe down chilled air. Before he responds he checks to make sure it’s not an ambush—the man understands he’s out of his element here. He’s on edge.

The both of you stare at one another, before your face shifts, brow-raising up on your forehead.

“What, did I startle you?” Legs looping to hang off the same side, your body feels lighter than a feather as you send yourself over the edge, knees taking the brunt of the force as your head catches up to your stomach—grunting as you hold your bow heavily in one hand. The jostle moves the limbs of your arrows, kept in a quiver at the small of your back.

Standing fully, you huff and set an easy smile to your lips, all teeth.

“My apologies, Lord.” Your free hand finds your heart, and you bend your spine forward. “I couldn’t help but see you down here below my tree.”

“Best to stay where you are,” the stranger grunts, only giving you enough of a glance to deem you unthreatening, apparently. Your form straightened. He watches you warily on the next go-around, attention always drifting to every snap of a twig off into the trees or the breeze shifting the leaves. “No need to apologize,” is the hurried reply, caught on a rough accent and a hissed gravel huff. “I’ll be on my way once I get my bearings. I don’t have time for conversation—and you should find your way home before long.” Eyes dart. “It isn’t good to be out today...or tonight, I’d say.”

If possible, your intrigue gains strength like a saint in Heaven.

The man’s square face raves in a clench of his jaw, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Are you sure you’re not lost, Lord?” You continue, undeterred, and shift your bow to sling it over your shoulder. “I live in these woods, I’d have no trouble directing you to the road. It isn’t far.”

“It’s John,” he grunts, glancing over, out of sorts. He was tired—his limbs were shaking with exertion even if he didn’t realize it yet. You think that perhaps if he were more focused, he’d ask why a woman had just landed in front of him from the branch of an Oak; dressed in trousers and a tunic, with just a woolen wrap to keep out the chill. Dirt over her face and a cunning edge to her words. Or, maybe he did know, you wondered, and simply didn’t care at the moment.

“Just call me Johnny. And,” he shakes his head firmly. “No. Go home to your husband, Bonnie, this doesn’t involve you.” He blinks, staring with a line across his forehead, stubble pulling along his cheeks. “I know this place—there’s a road just to the…” he turns his head to the direction of your trail, blinking at the coverage of thick foliage. “Fuck,” the dark-haired stranger growls, blues sparking up in a feral display of desperate weight.

You can only see the winding bends if you have a vantage point—that was why you chose your tree in the first place. Your smile grows.

“It’s that way, Lord,” you breathe, pointing in the opposite direction of the road, back to the small path of brambles and bushes that leads closer to your home instead. “We pass my property on the way, I can offer you some drink for your troubles.” A chuckle wafts the air. “You look like you need it.”

There’s a large moment of hesitation, in which you begin to wonder if this prize might be too big to catch, but, then, as there’s a flash of something over John’s face, he grits his teeth and sighs.

“Aye, fine,” he nods, looking to the side as he lowers his tense shoulders and clears his throat. You’re offered a sincere expression that borders on strained guilt. “Thank you, Dearie. I…” John pauses, frowning. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much when I burst through the trees like that—I’m in a bit of a rush if you can’t tell. I need to make for the shore.”

“My,” you huff, shifting your body and motioning him to follow—he does, setting his feet carefully ahead of him with experienced movements; keeping a respectable distance away. Johnny wasn’t new to the woods, then. He knew where to place his feet, at the very least. “The shore? That sounds exciting.” You conclude, hiding your creased brows as you stare forward. “Making for the South? I’ve heard handfuls are leaving for the weather.”

Looking over your shoulder, you make sure he keeps on your trail as you push through the bushes. “More agreeable, they say. Less rain.”

John chuckles, though he’s still visibly aware of everything around him. He spares you a look, a small smirk taking over his slightly chapped lips. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I just might.”

You’re surprised by the genuine laugh that fights in the back of your throat. Humming under your breath, you shrug it off as simply as a dog does a fly. It was painfully obvious neither of you trusted the other.

John’s eyes were stuck on the back of your head, and yours were eager to slide back to his form on the off-chance you had to use the dagger strapped to the meat of your thigh, carefully hidden under your trousers and accessible via a cut in your pocket. He was all muscle, and already you know that any attack coming to you would be unwise to try and retaliate—slash and retreat was a much better escape plan.

You could outrun him.

“So,” your words bleed curiosity, eyes imploring as you glance over your shoulder. “Why are you out in the woods, Johnny? In such a nice outfit as well. Is there something going on around here?”

The dark-haired man tilts his head your way, sighing long. “A wedding, actually. Horrible thing, if I have to comment on it.”

Your lips twitch.

“Oh, aye. I’d heard about it in town not two days ago—something about a marriage of advantage? Who was the unlucky pair, then?”

John clenched his jaw, hand coming up to push at the smear of dried blood on his cheek, which you’d just noticed wasn’t dirt and instead the result of a branch slap. Pale cheeks were wind-bitten. Lungs heavy. You narrow your gaze before stopping the surge of questions in your mouth.

“Some poor bastard, that’s who,” he responds slowly, mostly under his breath, before blinking. “How much further is the road, Dearie? No offense,” he grunts, staring seriously at you “but I'd rather not be here for much longer.”

The boar broach winks at you.

“Not far,” you smile coyly. “Forgive me, Lord John—”

“Just Johnny—”

“—But I do hope you’re not a fugitive.”

Blue eyes widen, sure feet faltering.

“.... Negative, Bonnie, no, I’m not running from the law. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me,” he breathes, and not once does he look away from you. You have to commend the man, he seemed an honest fellow, and those, you knew, were very rare indeed in your time. “I just need to get out of these woods. You’ll never hear from me again after I’m gone.” He takes a breath, looking past you. “You have my word.”

“Is it worth believing?” You push, smirking. “There’s few dressed like you that I can say it is.”

John licks his lips as you both pass a fallen tree, standing more side by side than previously now that the density of bushes had dispersed. He huffs, sending you a side-eye before he seems to study your face, brows pulling jokingly.

“I don’t think my answer would make much of a difference, would it?”

You pause, enjoying this man’s company more by the second. “No, it wouldn’t.” The both of you stare, before you grin and pull your sharp gaze away, chuckling. “Follow me,” you motion a hand. “Before you fall into a mud pit and completely ruin what little is left of your outfit that’s sellable—” You fumble, faking a cough as you clear your throat and finish off with tension now in your spine, “Salvageable.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, Bonnie,” Johnny grumbles, either not noticing the mistake or simply not registering it. “I wouldn’t fuckin’ care if it got covered in horse shit.”

—

You open the door to your home, shifting out of your bow and setting it against the wall with your quiver following to rest beside it as two siblings should.

“You’re lucky,” you hum, “I just went to the well this morning—freshwater is in the basin, cups on the table.”

John’s eyes give a firm once-over, fingers fidgeting above his sword’s hilt. He nods once, moving into the doorway, and immediately goes to where you describe and grabs onto a carved cup, tilting it in his hands.

“Thank you,” he mutters sincerely, hand dipping into the collection of water. “Eh,” John puffs a laugh, “I’d imagine I would still be stumbling along if it wasn’t for you, little Lady. These woods are larger than I remember them.”

“You come from around here?” You ask, brushing down your wool wrapping as you pull at the burs in the fiber. “Don’t recall your face in the town, though I’m not there often.”

“Hm,” he takes down the water, and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as droplets slip from his lips to drop off his chin. Once he had drunk the entire cup, he removed it and wiped at his mouth with his forearm, blue eyes peeking above it. “I…wasn’t in town usually. Not really my place—the forests outside of my property took most of my attention.” He confesses, head tilting as the strange cut of his hair flops along with his skull. “Those, I could run blind.”

“I’m sure,” you puff a laugh.

While the air was somewhat calm, there was still an underlying hesitancy: Johnny didn’t know who you were, and you didn’t know what he was running from. Both were important questions that needed to be answered. Yet, John seemed the casual type.

“Doubt me?” His eyes narrow, a smile brewing.

“I never said that,” you walk past him, also grabbing a cup before dipping it into the basin. Your finger points. “But it would be interesting to test.”

“Unfortunately,” John breathes, setting down his cup, “I’m occupied at the moment.”

“A groom would be,” you tilt your head, casually sipping at your drink. “Your wife must be fucking fuming right now.”

The room flips on itself, and the man is instantly frozen.

Johnny stares, shocked, and you see his feet instinctually ready a stance to either blot to the door, or to take up his sword. His expression is layered with secrecy.

“...What was that?”

“I said your wife must be fucking fuming,” you say louder, slipping your hand into your pocket and shrugging to make it seem meaningless—your dagger’s hilt is smooth under your flesh. “Or did you not finish the ceremony? Betrothed, then, Johnny Boy?” Your eyes glint. “Hell, the event must have been absolutely laced with wealth. Did you have wine imported? New fabrics for your wedding clothes? I’d almost be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“That’s none of your business, Dearie,” he levels, glare heavy and firm while his face is stoic. You can clearly see his body wound up like a wild dog. “I think we’re done here.”

He backs up quickly, legs taking him to the exit until you’re suddenly right behind him, and the man feels the sharp press of a blade into the back of his spine.

Your lips are at his ear, and you chuckle. “Sorry, but we’re not done until anything valuable is in my hands and not on your body.”

“If you wanted me naked,” he growls, glaring from over his shoulder, as his form is rod-straight. “You could have just asked, Little Thief.”

“I’d call it heavy persuasion,” you chuff. “Sounds better, don’t you think.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Johnny barks, teeth gnashing. “Put the knife down before this gets ugly.”

“I’m not entirely sure I want to,” your answer meets the air. “There’s enough silver and fine fabric on you to feed me for an entire winter, even when the deer move to better grounds.”

John grits his molars, his neck bent as his fingers twitch at his sides, slipping along to his sword slowly.

“Money? That’s why you’ve got a bloody blade on me? Christ, my day just keeps getting better and better.” You glare, anger moving behind your eyes.

“Some people have to work for what they want, you—” Your hand is slapped to the side as John spins, and your dagger is sent along the floor in a loud clatter; a hand finding your upper arm as you gasp, and, suddenly, there’s the chilled edge of a blade at your throat.

Wide-eyed, you gape at John as the man smirks at you, yet his orbs are infected with annoyance.

“When you draw a knife on someone, you best know how to use it.” The edge is slightly pressed deeper and your body refuses to move. “You put it at the neck, Cat-Eyes.” John frowns, glaring. “Knew there was something about you—down to the bow and arrows.”

“What,” you growl out, a low embarrassment stemming in your gut as John’s puffs of breath move along your face. Your face burns, and your fingers jerk with anger. “A woman can’t have hobbies?”

“Not when I find ‘em up trees waiting to ambush any bastard that comes by wearing silver.”

“Mate,” you sneer, eyes glimmering. “At this point, you can keep your damn silver. It’s more of a reward to watch you stumble like a fool through the woods five feet from the road.” Johnny’s face tightens, yet there’s little time to fight like children anymore when the sound of breaking branches is echoing off the windows of the house.

Both of your necks whip to the door, yours a great deal more carefully as you’re slightly nicked by the sword's edge, but the drip of blood is voided. High voices carry over the air.

“Find him!”

“His tracks lead through here—get the hounds on it!”

“Here!”

Your brow raises, smirk getting larger as you chuckle under your breath. “Better get on your way quickly, then.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny snarls, all at once ripping his sword from your neck yet keeping his ruthless grip on your upper arm. He looks nervous now—his eyes jumping from one place to another, thinking. “Where’s the damn road, you minx.”

You shrug, eyes sharp. “What road, Lord?”

The strong man rages, eyes burning with a thousand suns as the sword is taken from your neck and re-sheathed in one motion—a second hand staples itself to your waist, gripping tightly. You blink, saliva swallowed down thickly at the dig of heavy fingers into flesh as your heart stutters.

“You’re going to tell me,” John levels, shifting the both of you back as the sounds of fast footsteps are echoed by the bay of dogs. “As much as I would enjoy being away from you in any capacity at all,” you smile humorously to him through his dead-tone monologue, “I need a guide out of these woods and across the land. If you won’t help willingly, I’ll just have to make do.”

You blink, confused.

“Make do?” Your body is taken up, and you shout as you’re ruthlessly flung over the man’s shoulder with a hiked toss.

Johnny’s smirk is lost to you, but his chuckle is not as he dashes to the door and slams it open, taking a quick left and looping the house—diving into the foliage as if a fish to water. “Unhand me, you brute!” You scream, clawing and hitting at the man’s back—kicking even, as your knee speedily finds his ribcage. “Ow!” John laughs, his grin highly amused as he turns back to look at you. The shouts from the trees get larger, but that doesn’t help you much as you’re both soon going deeper and deeper into the woods. “Jesus, you have a pair of legs, don’t you?”

“If I were marrying you,” you bark down at him, struggling with all of your might as your home disappears from view. “I’d be running instead of the other way around!”

“Well,” Johnny calls, his sword bouncing off of his hip. “It’s a good thing you’re not, then, isn’t it, you bonnie little thief? Your husband would be dead and all of his coin in your dirty pockets!”

“Stop calling me a thief!” You send a closed-fisted slap to the top of his head, and he grunts, balking to the side. “Learn how to handle a fucking lady!”

“Lady?” He breathes heavily, shoving into another bush as leaves get tangled in his hair—twigs stuck in yours as you scowl rabidly. “If you’re a lady, Bonnie, then I’ve got a beast waiting for me back at my ceremony.”

—

He stopped when the light of the sun was low, and your constant attack of his spine left an array of large, fist-shaped bruises on his skin.

“Easy,” John grunts, dropping you with a huff to a down-turned stump.

It isn’t long before you shoot back up, hands clawing for his throat. “Hells Bells!” The man ducks, boyish glint in his eyes as he darts to the side, stepping out of the way as you stumble on tingly legs.

“I’m going to skin you alive,” you yell. “Piece of utter dog shite!”

“Now that’s a bit strong,” John breathes, panting from his mad run for his single life. “Don’t you think?”

You take one step forward, and he takes two back—stuck in a game of cat and mouse. Your eyes are like tiny fires, illuminated with only anger and hatred.

“Give me one reason why I should even attempt to help you,” your screams rise above the trees, hands splayed as John puts his hands to his knees, taking down breaths as sweat dribbles down his neck into his vest. “You-you,” your tongue fumbles, “kidnapper!”

“Technically, it would be an abduction, Dearie.” You slap him across the face and see the man’s cheeks go red from the blow. Shoving your nose nearly right into his, you sneer.

“Correct me again, and it’ll be your balls I hit next.”

He swallows, blinking, before he smirks and pairs it with a chuckle as his eyes spark. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You growl as he holds up his hands, moving one to rub at the back of his neck and itch at the shaved portion of his scalp. That damned smirk—you despised it.

“Get me to the closest port,” John settles, getting to business as his expression mellows out. “And I’ll make it worth your while, I give you my word.”

“What?” You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation the longer the silence falls; realizing how serious the man is. “Oh God in Heaven, this has to be a joke.”

“Anything you ask for, you can have from me when this is over,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his mud-caked shoes. “I don’t need more than the fee to secure a spot on a good ship sailing away from here, and whatever is left I’ll give to you if you want it. You win in this situation, and I’m not trying to hide it from you.”

Your sharp eyes hone in, unwavering in its heat.

“Christ,” Johnny breathes, “I’d even give you my damn socks if that’s what it takes—I need to get out of here. Quickly.”

You stare, sneering. “Is your betrothed a damn witch or what?”

Blue eyes blink, and his words are firm as they meet air. “Are you taking up my offer or not, Cat-Eyes?”

“Of course, I’m taking the offer!” You bark ruthlessly, rolling your eyes as you kick at the dirt. Rocks and grass fly as darkness settles heavier. “I’m not a fool.”

“Well,” he sighs in relief, looking to the shadows along the ground. “I can’t say you’re that, either, but you are certainly something.”

You narrow your eyes at Johnny but don’t waste your time any longer as you turn and study what you can see.

You had grown up here—in this land. The woods knew you just as much as you knew them. Already you could pinpoint a general map of this section based on the large cracked boulder to your right, and the tiny cluster of trees across the way. You knew the way to town, and from there, the port.

“It’s a three-day walk,” you grumble, side-eyeing the man as he moves to lean against a trunk. He wouldn’t be moving through the night—you didn’t complain on that front either. “You grab at me like that again, and I’ll��”

“Let me guess,” Johnny raises a brow. “You’ll hit me in the balls.”

Your thin lips tell him all he needs to know.

Shuffling past him, you frown and pull your wrapping closer, shuffling your chin into it. No fires for warmth, you know—not with people on your trail.

“I want an explanation,” you turn and dig into him, walking closer as John looks to the side. “If I’m sticking my neck out, I want answers as well as coin.” Poking him in his chest, you force your neck to find his gaze. “Why are you running?”

Johnny sighs, licking his lips as he nods with a low, “Fine.”

You tilt your head, and John moves back to sit against the stump, moving out his hands in an honest display.

“I was told I needed to marry and produce heirs if my house was going to survive, aye?” He states, and you know the story well. “My parents are gone, and my sisters are all married, but my estate is barren of anyone besides myself and the staff. To keep the peace, I gave my word that I would join into a union to secure my assets for my bloodline.”

It was all so formal, the talk of a wife and children—you never understood it. Why couldn’t people simply marry who they love and leave it at that? All this bloodline and assets. Don’t they ever get sick of it?

“What’s your last name, then,” you ask. “McDuff? Mackenzie?”

“MacTavish,” John shakes his head, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his neck. Blue eyes stay with yours. “John MacTavish, I have lands to the North.”

Your brows tighten, arms going to cross themselves. “You’re running from your home because of a union you can freely exit?”

“It isn’t free,” he grumbles, shaking his head firmly and setting his jaw. “My father’s wishes for his children were written down and sealed. I was to marry a daughter of Arthur Campbell when I came of age.” John chuckles face going a bit pink. “As you can see, I’m a good few years past that.”

You tilt your head, and while Johnny was certainly passed the normal age of a male in his position to be wed, it struck you as odd as to why he didn’t want to be in the first place. In marriage during these times, a man has little to lose when joined. Almost nothing else changes for them except another title is added to their long line of others already living under him.

John continues, and you stay your snake-like tongue for now. “Wasn’t until I learned that by now, Mr. Campbell’s second born daughter, who was the only one near my age, had passed nearly an entire year ago—leaving only the oldest behind.”

“And?” You hum, intrigued to see where this goes. Johnny itches at his chin, scratching the stubble that lives there along with the dirt and grime. “What, I’d imagine the head of the Campbell family wanted to uphold the arrangement?”

“Aye, they did,” John grunts, nodding. “Fiona Campbell was the woman I was set to marry today.” He pauses, sighing heavily before looking to the side. Darkness had set, and there was little light by way to see the expression of guilt growing on his face. “I’m not lyin’ when I say I didn’t want to make such a mess of it, but there’s only so much a man can do when he learns his bride is not only twice his age,” John breathes, grunting, “but also just…” He stops himself, sighing.

You frown, gut swirling.

“She was blank, do you understand?” Johnny asks, motioning a hand in a display of unknowing explanation. “All she seemed to care about was children and wealth. A slate waiting to be filled with someone else’s thoughts and ideas. I didn’t want to be the one to fill it—I’ll not be some husband that runs a wife around like a dog. That isn’t right to me; it wasn’t how I was raised.”

Your mind twists on itself with an indefinable feeling—skin tight to your bones as if taken and tied by ropes. Your heart pumps blood a little harder, but just because this man seems less of a bastard doesn’t mean you like him. He’d dragged you into this hunting party of his grand problem, and the sooner you got your payment, the better and easier it would be to disappear.

“How noble,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Yet, your voice is hiding an under-the-breath shock. “So you bolted into the woods?”

Johnny rubs at his nose bridge, growling in annoyance. “Yes—it was the best cover I had. Been going through the trails since sunrise.” He slaps his hands to his knees and stands back up with a grunt and an ache in his thighs. His sarcastic voice peels the shadows. “Are we satisfied, now, Bonnie?”

“I won’t be until you’re out of my sight,” you level, moving forward. “So are you going to bed so I can drag you to the port or not?”

John’s body is heard shifting as you slip down the trunk of a tree, backside hitting grass as you settle in for a restless sleep—pulling your wrap tighter over your shoulders. Here you were: weaponless and in the company of a runaway groom still in all of his finery.

You wanted that damn boar broach.

“Sleep’ll be smart, we need to be up early,” John says seriously, his shoes shifting the leaves. Letting the chill seep in, you burrow into your fabrics and glare ahead. Johnny’s sly voice is so reminiscent of yours, that you have to wonder if the two of you were cut of the same cloth. “I won’t be opposed to a cuddle if you get chilly, Little Lady—”

“I should have stabbed you when I had the chance.”

Johnny’s low chuckles waft over the air, and then the silence settles fully.

Yet, you’re up far later than you anticipated…and you find this honest man’s confession to be bouncing inside of your skull like an enraged bird.

—

“Christ, did I do that?” A finger is pressed under your chin, tilting your head up as you strangle a gasp at the sudden motion.

Johnny looks at the tiny cut along your neck from the edge of his sword—the barely-there irritation of the skin that you’d been itching at as you walked forward through the trees.

He frowns, glancing into your eyes as your body stills at the feeling of warm flesh.

It was the first day of walking, and the silence between the two of you had stayed. Not only were you annoyed at the situation, but also John’s story—you’d been mulling it over since last night.

But below that anger, you might have even felt a little wrong.

“Who else?” You sigh sarcastically to the man, trying to hide the rising flood of heated shock. Thick digits drag along your esophagus slowly in study, and John’s face creases the longer he looks. He’s hunched near you, too—and you can smell the low scent of leather and earth.

Johnny pulls back with a huff and slips a hand into his sporran. Your eyes watch with blatant distrust until a relatively clean rag is taken out by a steady hand.

He motions with it. “Come ‘ere. Let me get the dirt out of it before it gets infected, eh?”

You sigh lowly but decide it’s a good idea at the very least before nodding—John’s fingers return as the light from above leaks through the branches. The morning was cold, but not unreasonable; the woods gave shelter from the otherwise abusive wind of the open country.

“Look at that,” you breathe, “The first nice thing you’ve done for me.”

“Ah,” John lightly glares. “Not quite right—I carried you away instead of making you run with me.”

Your eyes roll, and Johnny’s chuckle echoes off the surroundings.

“Such a gentleman,” you grumble, feeling the rag press into your throat and the soft scrape of it across your scratch.

“So,” the man hums, blue eyes stuck to your flesh as he takes care of it far more nicely than you’d imagined someone to be. “Seeing as I’ve shared my sob story, Cat-Eyes, I think I’d like to ask after yours.” His voice is full of amusement. “As we’ll be keeping one another company.”

“It’s less as in-depth than yours,” your fingers twitch as Johnny moves back after the cleaning is done—returning the rag to his sporran as he blinks.

“I don’t believe that,” he raises a brow, as you ignore the remembrance of his touch and continue, paving the trail as the dark-haired man follows a close distance behind. “Can’t say there’s many times I’ve seen an unwed woman wielding a bow and thieving someone out of their money. I’ve seen a lot of things, Bonnie,” he laughs, “but never that. Scared the hell out of me when you dropped down.”

“You can add me to the top of the list, I suppose,” you puff a teasing breath. After an expecting pause in the conversation, you grow bored of the nothingness.

“I’ve lived out here my entire life—I do what I have to. That’s all there is to it.”

John’s face gradually pulls into itself, only looking away from you to glance at the path to make sure he won’t fall.

“No family?”

“None,” you tilt your head, shimmying under a low branch and pushing leaves off your shoulders. They sway to the ground softly as you brush an arm over your forehead, sensing Johnny’s attention.

The man grunts. “M’sorry.”

Your feet stumble for a moment, pace faltering, until you cover it up easily. You turn to stare, narrowing your eyelids as open blues watch silently. John’s shoulder brushes yours.

“It’s life,” you blankly answer. “Least I wasn’t married off. Where you had to worry about a blank slate, I had to worry about becoming a broodmare for a man who most likely would never love me.”

Johnny licks his lips, eyes darting to the ground. “Can’t imagine you like that,” he mutters, but it isn’t some joke—he’s truthful.

“Perfect,” is what his ears twitch to. “Because I’d sooner act like you and bolt from my wedding as well.”

“Would that make me the thief in your story, then?” Johnny asks, chuffing as he smiles towards you, reaching a hand above him to push another branch out of the way—separating it from your form as you bend under. “I’m tellin’ you, I wouldn’t be very good at it. All that dropping down from trees would have my knees screamin’. Not that they don’t already.”

Your laugh pierces his chest, and the man sends a kind if not a bit startled, show of interest to you. It sounded like a bowstring slapping a wrist—harsh and telling all at once: something to be known and understood even if heard only once.

John blinks at you, and his heart patters along in his chest.

“I think it would be more fun to think about you with a dagger,” you narrow your gaze at him, smiling. “A small thing like that would disappear in your hands, Johnny Boy.”

“Disappear?” He tilts his head, raising his hands to hover in front of him. “Ah, they’re not that big, are they?”

You shift, and, nearly without thinking, you slip your hand to sit above his. Johnny makes a noise in the back of his throat, eyes going wide as you reference the size of his grip under yours, but allows you to regardless. A blue gaze slides to your face, openly imploring, before they dart back down to your shared hands as the roughness of his callouses scraped against your flesh.

“Care to compare?” You smirk, lifting a brow.

Johnny’s lips parted quickly, blinking a few times as he tried to find the words to accompany his running mind. He clears his throat, but the small sheen of red pigment on his cheeks is undeniable.

Laughing, you detach the connection and pull ahead, leaving the man behind as he stutters with a fast pulse.

“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” is what he decides minutes later, a large grin on his face—he was enjoying this, for whatever twisted and flawed reason, he was. John’s adrenaline was pumping, his heart was pounding, and his feet were passing over the earth, yet, even better, his brain was sparking at a mile a minute for the woman who walked only three feet ahead of him. He watches you take these trails like an expert, not having to look down at your feet as stone and wood are passed as if you were water above them, whispering and nearly silent.

“At least I’m not boring.” Your eyes meet him, and in them, they create some horribly beautiful amalgamation of twin flames—two sparking fires that feed from the same ember. “You would never catch me becoming a housewife, Johnny Boy.” Your gazes never break. “There are far too many things to steal in this country, and so very few men who can keep up.”

John’s chest moves in the beat of his pulse—his attention wholly transfixed upon the sight of this wild-born woman whom he’d only met yesterday. There were leaves in your wrap, and brown-black mud coated up to your ankles, even sweat sitting at your temple, yet you moved with grace befitting a Lady: never seeming to tire of jokes or firm surety. Yet…you weren’t cruel—you weren’t without purpose.

Any accomplished thief would have just stabbed him and taken what they needed in your house. You offered John water, however, you chose to give him a chance to comply. It was such a small thing in the grand scheme, but Johnny was always one to analyze how one feather on a bird can affect the flight pattern, so to speak. One action that speaks volumes.

You liked creating games, and, lucky for him, John loved to solve them.

And that glint in your sharp-slitted eyes was becoming more and more enjoyable every second, he found.

Pushing back the strands of his wayward hair, John keeps up with you for every step, not unfamiliar with how to traverse unsteady terrain. He wasn’t lying in what he told you—he had spent most of his life in the forest beside his home: hunting, fishing, riding. There wasn’t an activity he didn’t enjoy when he was outside, though his mother was always heavy on him about the mess he brought back.

Blue eyes drop back down to your dirt-laced pants, and the man can’t help but give his best, lip-pulling smile.

Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he would say that you were something that made so little, and at the same time so much, sense to him.

“Well, maybe they just aren’t accustomed to hiking, Little Cat-Eyed Thief.”

There was something special in the glances you two would throw one another.

—

Your hands dip into the clear water, fingers open to feel the current drag through them gently.

“If you want a sip,” you say, cupping the liquid and bringing it up to your lips, “it’s safe. This river flows down from the hills—not perfect, but there’s only a small chance it’ll make you sick.”

John comes up and hums as he sits down beside you, folding his legs under him and leaning forward to submerge his arms up to his elbows in water. He sighs, and you hear the river gurgling as the man begins to rub up his flesh, getting rid of all the grime.

“Good to know.” Blue eyes spare you a look as he continues. “What’s this one called?”

“Woodney river,” you answer. “Old Man Jack Woodney ran a water wheel on this river a long walk West. If this place had a name before that, it won’t tell.”

Johnny washes his face, scrubbing at his stubble as the scratch of it plays in the side of your ear. You watch along the opposite shore, eyes going from trees to birds—even to the shadows of fish that quickly swim past. Sighing, you have to admit the beauty of this adventure. There were few times you could say you’d gone this far into the woods with no wealth to trade in with the townspeople.

You side-eye John and study him just as heavily as you do a wild animal.

He wasn’t unattractive, you admitted. Strong—sturdy. Johnny was capable in a way that most Lords wouldn’t be, some, you guessed, would already be complaining about the uncomfortableness of their clothes or the flesh of their blistered feet. But John was bright-eyed; more than once you’d seen him actively watching the stretch of the trees for any sign of his pursuers. He never complained. Not once.

“You’re not as insufferable as I thought you’d be,” you say. Frowning, your hands push back into the water and cup some of the chilled liquid. You let it drip before you extend your hand to your neck and feel your eyes droop in relaxation.

Johnny laughs, staring at you for a minute as he slowly raises a brow. His face shows amusement.

“Am I supposed to be insulted or not?”

“I leave that for you to decide.”

John cracks his knuckles and shakes his head as he stands. “C’mon,” he drags, but the smile in his voice is clear. A hand is set in front of yours. “Sooner I get out the port, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”

Your face softens slightly.

“Am I ever going to get an apology for being tossed like a sack of potatoes?” Skin meets skin as you slip your hand into his, and the man pulls you to your feet as you smile. Calluses brush yours, and yet again, you find you enjoy this game—perhaps more than any other you’d played before.

And you don’t understand why.

Johnny’s fingers are firm over yours, curling as water drips to the ground below in reflective droplets, and you think back to the first time you’d met him—panting breath and rapid eyes. Your eyes glance to that boar broach, and find it attached to a man that is suddenly more of a mystery than a closed book.

“Easy,” John mutters, steadying you by your shoulders as you remember where you are. The dark-haired man squeezes your flesh and looks into you.

Blue eyes glint, and that smirk, you find, is always followed by a tiny tint of his head. “And what’s that look for, Cat-Eyes?”

“You called me strange.”

John’s brows furrow. “Aye. I did.” He looks you up and down slowly. “You are.”

You do the same to him, not wasting more than a moment. “And I find it funny that you haven’t said the same thing about yourself. You’re far more strange than I’ll ever be.”

“Guilty,” Johnny smiles, nodding slightly. His hands are still on you, and he doesn’t seem to even notice. “I don’t think a normal one would fuck off from his own wedding, would he?”

“Or kidnap a woman as a guide,” you state, pulling out of his warm hold even as your stomach flips as you brush past

“Again,” John’s hand motions through the air. “Abduct.”

“You’re just saying that because it sounds slightly better,” you grimace over your shoulder. “Like comparing a dog to a wolf.”

Johnny is hot on your heels, and when the river-eroded stepping stones to the other side of the water are the clear path to take, he’s already on the first and holding out his arm for you as a true gentleman would. You glance at him and hop to the first stone, liquid sloshing at your shoes.

Your smirk is stuck with his like two pieces of a quilt, and neither of you realizes it.

“You put a knife to my back first, Dearie.” John puffs and his face is right next to your ear as you both cross the stones—you lean into him and elbow his side before your arm slips into his. The man grunts, blinking as he chuckles above the slosh of water.

“So? Maybe I only point knives at the men I like.”

“Then I’d say you have every right to put one right at my throat.”

Feet move carefully over rocks and the spray of the water that coats them—a dance of wit in their own right. It was like animals circling one another, all sharp eyes and pulled lips trying to find weaknesses. Deadly flirting and addictive banter.

Where annoyance was such a common emotion, now there was a near expectation of jabs; of tantalizing quips for the glimpse of another's mind.

Neither of you could understand the other, which was exactly why you both reveled in the brush of warm flesh.

“Careful,” your feet meet the hard ground once more on the other side, and John only lets go when he knows that you don’t need him to steady you. “You’re engaged, Johnny Boy.”

Your tease slips in one ear and out the other, and the man watches you turn and begin walking again with sly eyes. John’s wide gaze stays stuck there for a moment—mouth eager to continue any conversation given. Watching you walk, his heart beats speedily.

“I think my, ah, reputation has all but ruined my chances on that front—”

There’s something unique about the sound of an arrow sinking into flesh that can’t really be forgotten. John had heard it many times—even been behind the bow that shot it; the slap of the string across his forearm, the set of his shoulder blades widening until the arrow disappeared.

But there’s something worse knowing that the sudden expulsion of air from lungs, in fact, belongs to you and not some wild animal.

You’re hit in a fraction of a second, down on the ground in less than that—your mind not even understanding above the immediate pressure and the slam of earth. You gasp loudly, and then the pain hits.

Hand snapping to your left bicep, your eyes slash down to stare as grass and mud fly into the air, rabid sounds escaping the back of your throat at the image that strikes you. An arrow was stuck deep into your skin—sticking out as blacked feathers flutter at the end of the shaft. The adrenaline hits rapidly, but the expression of horror still remains.

“Cat-Eyes!” Johnny yells, rushing forward, and unsheathing his sword, the sound of metal on metal harsh, but not as harsh as the sound of blood in the man’s ears.

You see the swelling of crimson, and, from under your fingers, the red of blood slips as your breathing gets hoarse. Biting into your lip, the quick sound of an under-the-breath groan of agony ripples.

But you’re not stupid.

Scrambling to your feet with the arrow still poking out of you, Johnny gets to you and pushes you behind him just as your shaking legs straighten—-your eyes slashing the woods in panic. Pain can wait.

The runaway groom spares you quick glances, pushing you further behind as his raging gaze darts this way and that. He yells into the trees, anger and order infecting his voice, “Show yourself!”

Just as suddenly, there’s a relieved call and a moving shadow. You clench your eyes tight and grit your teeth as a wave of pain rockets through you.

“Fuck,” you grind out, lost under the louder voice. Blood drips to the ground.

“My Lord!” Men burst through the leaves, bows, and swords aloft. “Quickly—to us!”

Johnny’s face is stiff; there isn’t an ounce of care, but the flash of recognition is swift, and in his chest, his heart, once beating so quickly, drops to his stomach.

Knights. His knights. Christ, the two of you hadn’t been fast enough.

“Stand down!” John spits, and cares little now for the thought of robbery or assault on his person—these men wouldn’t hurt him, but they were tasked to bring him back. “Fucking bawbags, the lot of you.”

His sword is sheathed by twitching fingers, and no sooner were those digits around you instead.

You pant hoarsely, face tight as your vibrating body tells you to run—eyes locked onto Johnny’s, the man in front of you ushers you over to the trunk of a tree hurriedly, uttering, “Just breathe now, Dearie—listen to me. It’s alright, aye?”

“What is this?” You raggedly push out, flinching as your spine meeting the bark jostles your arm painfully.

Your teeth grit, tears collecting in the corner of your vision.

“Knights,” John mutters as if his words are chased by wolves. “They’re after me—probably thought you were either holding me hostage or trying to lead me into an ambush.” The colorful fabric of his pinned tartan is dragged off from over his shoulder and shoved into your weeping flesh, and you lightly moan in agony, head falling back to the tree.

Tears slip from over your cheeks.

“Easy.” John’s concern is palpable. Worried eyes dart from your face to your wound. “Jesus,” he utters under his breath, anger flashing.

“Who is this?” One of the knights asks, taking a step forward as Johnny holds the fabric to your wound and speaks to you lowly, utterly ignoring the people behind him.

“I need to break the shaft off, okay?” Blue eyes try to keep even, and John’s other hand captures your cheek. He levels your face right in front of his, breathing lowly. The man clears his throat as your tight gaze flutters, tightening his grip. “Hey,” Johnny breathes. You grunt, voice a low grind.

“Just make it quick.”

John’s lips thin. “Yes, Ma’am.”

His large hand swiftly moves to the arrow, gripping around it just where flesh meets wood, you hiss loudly, spitting and raging as your vision partially blackens. Pain sparks up and down your spine, racing like a cat after a mouse.

“Lord,” one knight tries again, coming closer and reaching out for Johnny’s shoulder. “We need to get you back to Castle Campbell—we’ve been hoping to find you unharmed for your future wife’s comfort. Everyone is in a panic!”

“I’ll count down to three,” Johnny whispers to you, breathing heavily as he swallows and steady himself, hand lightly clammy. He wished he had his hunting gloves with him, but this was the best he could do. “Eh,” the man grunts, eyes steady, “You listening, Bonnie?”

“I don’t care what you count to,” you nearly bark, orbs flashing. “Just break the damn thing off—!”

The wood snaps with a defining splinter, and your scream afterward has the man having to hold you up with his arms around your waist, muttering into your ear with his lips against the shell.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” John hears the clatter of the shaft to the grass just as the knight’s hand is heavily placed on his shoulder. “Breathe. M’right ‘ere.”

You sag into Johnny taking in the scent of sweat, blood, and dirt—the musk that stays even as your ears start ringing and the voices start getting louder.

“Best get your hands off o’ me before I break ‘em, Mate” Johnny grunts from deep in his chest, shifting your body to the side and effectively ripping his flesh out of the knight’s hold.

All the others shift nervously—hands on their swords and looking back and forth between the strange scene.

Who were you? A mistress? A bandit luring their Lord away? Why was he with you out here; going in the opposite direction of where the ceremony was supposed to take place? They’d been given orders, and a knight is no good unless he can follow them.

John MacTavish was needed, and their duty was to see it through.

Johnny’s tartan had fallen to the ground behind the two of you, getting kicked by feet as they shuffle and as your blood slips off of your limp fingers. Mind failing, your pain-addled form shakes even as the knowledge of imminent danger is present.

You needed to figure out a way to get out of here.

Pushing your head up from Johnny’s shoulder, your eyes flutter but manage to analyze what little you can see clearly—adrenaline can take care of most of your agony, only leaving a dull ache as your heart continues to rage.

A group of four knights have their hands on their swords, and all of their eyes are on John.

Run, a deep part of you urges. Your legs are still good. Take off—none of them know the terrain like you do. You’ll be free.

You pant, your nostrils flaring with every breath as your sweat trickles off your jawline. Johnny’s grip on you tightens, head shifting back and forth, unknowing where to anchor itself, not understanding which is more important—your state, or your safety.

Free, free, free.

Your mind flashes to an empty house: silent woods. How you would go months without seeing another human face, but that was your own choice.

Wasn’t it?

Your eyes slip to Johnny.

“We’ve been tasked with bringing you back, My Lord,” the first knight says, looking heavily upon the runaway. “We have our orders. Please understand.”

“And I’m telling you your orders are utter shite,” John spits. “So back the fuck up and drag yourself out of this place. Now.” He glares, teeth snapping. “Those are my orders.”

Your arm is numb, and your chest expands as it sits on John’s own. And you think.

You knew you were a selfish person.

There was no debate about it—even when you’d stolen enough coin to feed you for weeks, there was still a part of you that longed for some chase; some challenge to your senses. You liked stealing. You liked the looks on people's faces when they realized they were being swindled for every valuable item they had in their possession. But there was something you liked even more than all of that—a challenge.

Johnny, to you, was that challenge. He was the largest challenge you’d ever faced. A Lord who was running from a bride, a man who held his beliefs higher than praise or standing…a blue-eyed stranger who matches your poking jabs word for word.

“Damn,” your growl, and John takes it as an exclamation of pain.

He grits his teeth and studies you, opening his mouth as his concern grows at the smell of blood.

“We need to tie it off,” he utters. “Bastards made me drop the tartan—I’m sorry, Dearie.”

Your lips are near his ear.

“When I say ‘go,’ run to the left.”

Johnny halts, attention snapping down. His fingers flinch around you, face open until the mask of sudden knowledge flies over it like a curtain. But it’s gone just as quickly—hidden by intelligent eyes that glint.

He doesn’t question you, and, in the crux of your shoulder, you get a near-infinitesimal nod from Johnny’s head.

The guards grow suspicious, all mulling closer by the second the longer you two remain so close—on opposite ends, you feel your heart mirroring John’s in a rapid and ravaging pulse: Thump-thump, thump-pump, thump-pump-thump.

Your attention is split three ways.

One: the rising numbness of your limbs and the heat of your brain. Two: the spread of Johnny’s panting breath across your sweat-slick skin and his hands tightening. Three: knights and the clatter of their armor. How they slide their hands across their weapons like intimate partners—the tension building in a hemp bowstring and the sound of arrows hitting off one another; one taken and played with between fingers so similarly to how you would act.

Your tear-stained eyes glare at the knight who’d shot you, your expression building into an act of hatred.

They take a step forward.

“Cat-Eyes—” Johnny begins to warn slowly.

“Go.” Your words are no shout. They don’t echo off the trees, which all hold their breeze in expectation, they don’t ring in ears except the ones of the man holding you. But they’re like the personification of a sword strike—like the release of an arrow and the impending thump of it hitting home.

The knights dash forward with calls for their Lord to stand down, but John’s already flinched away with a heavy grunt.

You do the same, your plan already formed—you would run the opposite way as Johnny, only slipping off when the cover of bushes had enshrouded the both of you to create two sets of tracks. With any luck, the guards would break off into two groups and pursue the both of you, and you could easily lose yours.

From there, circle back and find John: get your bearings before—

Arms never detach from your waist, and you’re once more tossed into a strong grip.

Eyes bugging, your focus breaks as gravity leaves and your head goes light. Johnny dashes away, and, just as the last time, you’re in his boar-like hold.

“You idiot!” You bark, the only difference to your predicament now is that you’re held in a bridal grip and not slung over his sweaty shoulder. There was only a small sliver of relief before the annoyance overtook you.

Johnny’s body crashes through the leaves, the shouts of the knights following as he gruffly raises his voice to the wind. The trees shake with amusement.

“Thinking you could hand over some directions, Dearie?!”

“Thinking you could put me down?!” You shout back, your arm sparking with pain as your opposite wraps the man’s neck firmly. “Damn.” Your lips twist in response. “My legs work just fine, you know—I wasn’t shot in the arse!”

“Acting like you were,” John grumbles, a branch slapping his cheek before you can. Despite it all, he chuckles wholeheartedly at his own joke.

An arrow whizzes through the air, and you yelp, ducking behind his body even more as your skull fits under his jaw. Your eyes snap to the visible terrain as Johnny’s legs push from one side to the other, running in a zig-zag pattern to avoid any more injuries.

“There,” your brows rise, fighting past the pain to find the familiar slash of a gnarled willow tree that whizzes by in brown and dark green.

Your head rises to see more of the woods, only to be pushed back down by an all-expansive hand as John utters a fast-breathed and firm, “Not the best idea.”

He shoves through brambles, and the sounds of rampaging knights are gaining. The second John sloshes through a low pool with a loud curse, you know instantly where you two are.

“Take a left near the overhang with vines coming down!”

“That one?”

“Yes!”

And so this game continued long after the knights had been lost to the woods, stumbling about without any sense of where they were, and the two of you came to a panting halt an hour later. Deep night was setting in on the second day, and, as your shaky feet hit the ground, John kept a heavy eye on you.

“Steady,” he mutters, sweat pouring off his face; saturating his clothes. He worriedly stares, looking you up and down.

Your vision swirls, the glade around you the exact place you both needed to be. There were hills here—surrounded by thick trenches carved by rivers long dried. The stars were out, and the moon was shining down; one thin trickle of a river was feet away, the sound of water on rocks addictive to your pounding ears.

All of it was null to the way your gut flipped at the humming agony of your arm.

Your hand snaps to the puncture and the flood of blood is enough to leave your fingers dripping with crimson glinting in moonlight.

There’s a heavy ripping sound, and then you find yourself sitting down in the grass as Johnny shoves the torn fabric of his suit into the small river. You hear the splashing as you glance down at your arm before rapidly looking away, biting at your lip as your spine hunches.

“Christ almighty,” you growl, glaring to the side as your fingers quiver. Tears well.

“The arrowhead is keeping pressure,” John hurries to speak, trying to distract you just as his own exhaustion is bare to see. The rung-out fabric is looped around your arm, tying off until you have to strangle down a scream at the tightness on your flesh. “We have to keep it there until there’s enough sterile material to fix it up.”

“Your knights are pieces of work,” you hiss, more from the wound than anything.

John gives a little look, blue eyes darting up until falling.

“Aye, they are.” His strong jaw clenches. “This shouldn’t have happened, Dearie.”

You stare as he finishes up, and you feel his fingertips slipping along your arm. Your eyelids droop, closing as your nostrils suck in shaky air. You take a moment to take in the silence that follows, John’s eyes not straying as your face is illuminated.

He watches the streaks of dirt along your skin, and, in a soft attempt to fix this, he stands and moves to the river once more—cleaning his hands. Johnny takes the rag out of his sporran and wets it, coming back to your body as the grass waves back and forth.

“Let me…” the man says slowly, and your eyes open back up as the chilled item is pushed to your cheek.

Wide orbs staring forward, you swallow as John concentrates on cleaning your skin carefully.

“Infection is my immediate concern,” the man says with a sigh, yet continues as your tongue stays tied; face growing more heated by the second. “But you mentioned it takes three days to the town, aye? That’s not unmanageable with two already under our feet.”

Blood, dirt, and sweat slip away with every drag of the fabric, and, stuck into his suit, that boar broach still sits—crooked now, but still there.

Your attention is momentarily taken by it, and your fingers twitch before you notice how very close John’s face is to yours.

The man focuses, relaying a plan as you’re stuck mute; your arm holding its own heartbeat as the grass shifts.

“I’ll use what I have to get you into a doctor. Make sure there’ll be no problems before I get going.” John blinks, tilting his head. “‘Course, that’ll decrease the amount you’ll get in turn.”

“Fortunately for you,” you breathe, voice strained, and blue eyes stick to yours. John pauses, brows slightly pulling up on his face. “I value my own life too much to complain about a man paying for my care.”

John’s rag stays where he placed it, right on the swell of your cheek as, this close to one another, you can see the scar on his chin—one that curves to the muscle and bone.

He was handsome, make no mistake about it. You knew it; you understood it. A lord with morals and the smarts to go along with the strength—now that was utterly unheard of. You liked that, truthfully. Someone who could think, and plan.

And, of course, follow directions.

“You’ll be fine,” John mutters, glancing to the side, yet his head doesn’t move back. He clears his throat with a sigh.

You roll your eyes, moving out and grabbing his hand with the rag. Johnny’s expression startles, arm tensing as you steal the dripping fabric from him. Water runs down your neck.

“I know I am.” You huff, smiling.

You push the rag onto his own face, and begin your cat-like approval of his character, washing away the grime just as he had your own. A blue gaze stays firmly on your flesh, the man’s shoulders loosening until he’s sitting just in front of you. Verident grass whispers in a language like a soft breeze, and you study Johnny’s skin until everything becomes a mosaic of scars and blemishes—stories woven into sinews holding as much history as the tines on an elk or the chipped tusks of a boar.

Two days and he’d become even more of a mystery than he had been before. Or maybe he always had been, and now your previous contentment had grown into an addictive curiosity.

He’d called you Cat-Eyes.

You couldn’t love a title more—not even if Lady were on the table.

“I settle my scores,” you grunt, tilting your head as you push back mud from his forehead, leaning in. “You wash my face, I wash yours.”

“Literally, then?” A sarcastic eyebrow makes you huff.

“Is that not what I’m doing, Johnny Boy?”

“Seems so, Cat-Eyes.”

Your matching glares hold no venom.

Smirking, you lean back after the last swipe at his forehead, pushing Johnny’s skull back as he chuckles, moon-lit visage something you would see scrawled on the parchment of an old story-teller's sketches. A man not made for this age.

Your face softens slowly, and it is a strange thing sitting atop the sharpness of your eyes.

John’s chuckles fade, and his breath catches in his throat.

“You’re an odd fellow, John MacTavish,” you say, here, with blood from an arrow wound drying to crack along your skin.

Your head tilts, eyes narrowing.

John’s lips slowly pull upwards, and the water on both of your faces drips to the listening earth. This place is alive with possibilities, and all of them stem from the growing draw of twisted human souls.

A just Lord and a cunning thief.

A sharp-eyed cat and a strong-bodied boar.

A future and a past—riddled with arrow marks; long sword slashes.

“Well…then I’m thinking we make quite the pair, Bonnie.”

—

The third day was spent on the latter half of the journey. Re-correcting the course and giving the best directions you could with the numb ache of your arm spreading up your shoulder.

But the town came easily as the midday sun rose to crest your heads.

“Want to lean on me?” Johnny asks, standing close by, but you’re already shaking your head.

“Feels better to keep myself focused,” you mutter, grimacing. You look at the entrance to the town, and as you both walk it, the stares are immediate—shocked residents looking at the haggard appearance of two individuals.

“Alright,” John sighs, side-eyeing you. “Just let me know if you’re goin’ to keel over, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” you tilt your head his way. Your lips smirk like a smug child. “You’ll catch me, won’t you?”

Johnny chuckles, shrugging his wide shoulders as his tattered finery is chock-full of brambles and leaves.

“Can’t say no to that.”

The Lord kept his promise—the doctor took the arrowhead, cleaned, cauterized the wound, and sutured you back up. For payment, as you lightly touch the bandaged section of your arm, you find your eyes freezing as a silver glinting reflects off the light through the window.

Johnny hands over his boar broach to the doctor.

Widely staring at the prize being pawned off for your health, your heart stutters in heavy greed.

No, you rapidly think. No, that was the one thing that I—

Your eyes inexplicably snap to Johnny.

The immediate thought is that he looks angry, but, the next and more accurate one, is that he looks sad.

John’s blues continue to follow the broach as it disappears into the doctor's pocket, and you see the weight fall back to his chest and arms—sitting heavy like a stone. The man’s feet shift along the ground for a moment, and he looks like he’s about to say something before he grits his teeth and shakes his head to himself. John grunts, fixing his nose.

You blink, and then your heart twists in on itself for no reason at all.

Or maybe there was a reason.

“C’mon, Cat-Eyes,” Johnny sighs heavily, tilting his head as his arms cross. “Time to see me off, then.”

He walks out the door, and your eyes follow like a loyal dog.

Standing there for a moment, your lips contort your face into a deep frown, sharp eyes gaining a sheen of light anxiety. Yet, there was no mistaking it—it had been said a million times—if there was one thing you could do, it was play a game.

Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

“Oh my,” you mutter, putting a hand to your head and stumbling.

The doctor starts forward quickly, grasping at your un-injured arm. “Careful now, Woman. Don’t rip my sutures.”

He tells you, getting you fully up as you chuckle, placing your hands above his thigh, fingers twitching on the fabric.

“Apologies, apologies,” you mutter, retracting your hand and cupping it against your abdomen with a meek smile. “Just a little lightheaded. Thank you, Doctor.”

“Best be off, now,” the man grumbles, and you’re out the door swiftly.

Your shoes meet the cobble as you shift your hands into your pockets, shifting your body to look along after the large form that leans against the home waiting for you.

“Ready?” Johnny asks, though his attention is firmly planted on the ground five feet away, lost in thought.

“Aye,” you sigh, nodding your head to the East. “Port’s that way—let’s get this nightmare over with.”

“Hm,” Johnny agrees, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Quite the adventure for a runaway.”

“You can’t have thought it would be easy?” Your brows furrow. “You’re heir to the MacTavish lands.”

“I never said I thought it would be easy,” John moves at your side, a great hulk of honesty. He hands over his attention at last as you fiddle with the smooth item in your pocket. He huffs. “Just that it was an…experience, to say the least. One I’m not sure I’d want to go through again.”

“You’ll miss me,” you say confidently, meeting eyes with a smirk and a cocky shift to your form despite the lessening pain.

Johnny watches. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “Aye. I will.” You pause, expression stilling. The man hums, and you swear there’s something special in the way you can describe his look as delicate.

“You were the one part that I don’t regret,” he says lastly to you as if the words aren’t spears laced with poison.

Your breath gets caught in a way it never has, and John seems not to notice as he pulls ahead, muttering about him seeing the docks. The smell of salt water slaps your nostrils.

The legs under you slow until they’re stopped, and you look after the man as he begins speaking to workers along the port, asking for a spot on the large ships that sit in the water, rocking with the winds.

Your eyes trail, seeing the way he talks with such confidence—openly offering physical labor as his payment for even the dark quarters with the other laborers.

After what seems like hours of watching, you see him shake another man’s hand, and, just like that, passage is earned. He jogs back over, smiling.

You open your mouth to say something, but find the words null and void. You don’t know what to express. For once in your life, everything seems to be moving horrifically fast.

“Well,” John’s expression slowly sombers. “I suppose this is it then. I said you could ask for anything, and, I suppose,” he shifts the sword on his belt off after a moment, looking down at it. He holds the item, testing its weight. “I suppose this is all I have left.” Blue eyes slowly meet yours. “If you’ll take it.”

Always a thief, never a saint.

“I suppose it’ll have to do, Johnny Boy,” you sigh, the pain in your heart outweighing the one on your arm. “Hand it over.”

The sword is transferred and slipped to your waist. Many a man on the docks gives you strange looks, and, you find you welcome it—none could compare to the admiration in Johnny’s.

You lick your lips.

“Do one thing for me, hm?”

“Anything,” John mutters, not blinking.

You move forward, and place a firm kiss to his lips.

The man freezes, fingers twitching at his sides, before he sags and bends into you—his great hand capturing your cheek until all that remains in the sear of his heat and the scent of the earth.

You softly pull away, though not far enough as to where you can’t feel his breath on yours. Gazing into his eyes, you smile the widest you can remember.

“Don’t go running away from another wedding anytime soon. I can only save so many Lords until my reputation gets slandered.”

“You’re ruthless,” John growls, smirking as his eyes glint, looking you up and down. “Little Thief.”

He leans in for another kiss, but your hands only shift above his sporran before you dart back, chuckling.

“Always,” your hands brush his sword on your hip as you walk backward, grinning behind the strange pressure in your heart. If someone asked, you wouldn’t even know how to describe it.

John takes a step after you, face open and raw—an emotion you feel like mirroring if not for your excellent control.

Not yet.

“I’ll take care of this,” you call, patting the weapon.

“Good,” Johnny calls, taking one more step forward before stopping himself. One of the shipmates calls from the dock, and his eyes snap there with a jaw tense. He looks back at you and blinks, brows pulling in. In the heat of the moment, he exclaimed, “I’ll be back for it one day, Cat-Eyes!”

“Lovely!” You yell, back turning. “I’ll be waiting for you then. I do hope you’ll be able to get through the woods, and, please, don’t keep a woman waiting! You’re much too handsome for any of that.”

And then you’re gone.

Johnny stares at where you were, his smile large and his face heated, and after a louder call from the dock, he’s forced to turn and jog to the ship, hurrying up the board until he can stand on the swaying deck with his two feet.

He looks around, chuckling to himself, and still, his eyes shift back to land without fail; hoping for a glimpse—a small shadow.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, the man reaches into his sporran for his rag, intent to clean and set it to dry when he’s able to get the chance to settle in. It’s one of the last items to his name no matter how pathetic.

Yet, his hands touch something far more precious.

Johnny’s body goes as straight as a tree when his fingers caress smooth metal, and, slowly, his grip pulls out the silver of his broach.

It glints in his palm as he sets it there, and his breath is stolen in one great bound of shock and confusion.

“What in the…” He already knows.

Johnny’s feet take him to the railing gently, and his body stands there—torn wedding clothes and all looking over a town that begins to move as the ship sets sail. He holds the broach carefully, not intending to let it go for an age. He just needs to lay low for a while. He needs time.

John smiles.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” he mutters to the moving homes, and he swears he sees the glint of a sword from between the buildings, and two sharp eyes digging into him.

You’re there, of course. Hidden as always.

You want your trees back, and you think that a day of sitting in your Oak is a good idea.

There’s dirt on your face again—your lips are chapped and your face is bitten by the wind; scars and blemishes that time won't heal but make all the more visible as the ages pass by on bird’s wings and cat purrs. Yet here is an action held immemorial.

A gift given freely by a thief is one to be treasured like pure gold, and the man on the ship knows that more intimately than any other as he clips the broach to himself with a hum.

You both watch the other from opposite, distant points until there’s no sun in the sky left to see with. Just a faint hope lights the way: the hope that your eyes will grace each other's visage, at the very least, just one more time in your life.

There was never a story so willing to be experienced than that of a runaway groom and his cat-eyed Thief.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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simonrileysfavteacup · 8 months ago

Text

Simon From The Wiggles

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word Count: 632

Warnings: dad!simon, mom!reader, simon's first born son being named tommy after his brother, fluff

Summary: Coming home after a mission to his favourite people in the world, Simon experiences one of the best moments of his life.

(this is the guy being spoken about)

Simon had been off on a mission for a month or so, practically crawling to get back to you and your son, Tommy. The little bugger had just surpassed 10 months and he had began babbling. He was the most adorable thing and you both loved him to death. He was the light in the dark for Simon, much like you were the sun to his rain.

When he finally did step back into your home, he immediately heard giggles coming from the living room. Tommy’s sweet little giggles. His babbling too, echoing throughout your house. He stripped off his gear, leaving everything by the door, including his mask. Simon stepped into the living room in just his compression shirt and tactical pants, smiling at the sight of you sitting on the ground, holding Tommy on your lap.

The little boy’s eyes light up at the sight of his father, kicking his legs to get to him. Poor guy still doesn’t understand how walking works. Simon smiles, bending down to take the boy into his arms, tossing him up into the air and catching him again like a ball, just how he likes.

You stand up, pressing a kiss to Simon’s cheek, smiling. “Hi honey, welcome home.”

He grins, “Hi lovie. You both have fun withou’ me?”

“Lots,” you nod at Tommy, nudging him with your nose. “Ain’t that right, bubba?”

The little boy giggles and fills the house with his little babbles. The sight makes Simon’s heart flutter.

“Why don’t you two sit down, huh? I’m gonna go get started on dinner,” you kiss Tommy’s temple and Simon’s cheek.

You head into the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Simon sits down with Tommy, placing the little boy on his lap as he turns the tv volume back up.

There’s these 3 guys, in different coloured shirts–blue, purple, and red–singing, with a girl in a yellow dress, bow in her hair. They look Simon’s age. He chuckles. Tommy’s face lights up, squealing.

“Mi-mom!” The boy babbles.

Simon blinks. He does a double take. “What you sayin’, bubby?”

The boy giggles, still staring at the screen. He claps his hands, “Mi-mon!”

It’s more audible this time too. But Simon still hears what he heard before.

“Lovie! He said i’! He said his firs’ word! My name! Lovie!” he shouts.

You poke your head back into the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah! Say it agai’, bubby! Come on!” Simon’s voice is filled with excitement.

“Mi-mon! Mi-mon! Mi-mon!” Tommy claps and giggles at the top of his lungs.

“Damn it, bubby. You ruined the surprise,” you shake your head.

Simon furrows his brows in confusion. Why aren’t you excited like he is? Your first child just said his first word!

“Whadya mean, lovie? ‘his is amazin’!” Simon tosses his baby boy into the air. “My name!”

“He wasn’t referring to you, Si,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. “One of his favourite characters in that show is called Simon…he said his name 2 days ago…I was going to surprise you.”

“What? What show?” Simon remains confused.

“Simon…from…the wiggles…”

“‘M sorry, lovie, what the fuck did you jus’ say?”

“The red guy on the tv, that’s him…”

“The old guy? Tommy loves ‘im?”

“Mhm.”

The little boy in question is kicking to get back to the tv.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know you were super excited and you should still be! His first word was Simon! We can tell people it was for you!”

“Lil bugger,” Simon nudges his son. “Say it again.”

The boy giggles, not yet understanding his father.

“Si, it’s a good thing, right?” you smile.

“‘Course, lovie, he’s gonna be talkin’ soon, and he’ll be able to say daddy,” Simon tickles the boy. “Ain’t that right, Mi-mon?”

Tommy’s eyes light up. “Mi-mon!”

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absolutebl · 27 days ago

Text

This Week in BL - Scandals, Face Offs & Disappointments, Oh my!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 6 of 12 - 3 tiny girls ragging on Jack was possibly the greatest opening sequence ever. Poor Jack. He is so not single anymore - so far as everyone around him is concerned.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 15 - Sports day continues. We get a little backstory on the respective crushes on Noh. The jealousy between Phun & Earn is way more extreme in this version. I'm not mad about it. I love a claiming. Although it is so unfair of Phun to claim Noh when they agreed not to go there, AND he’s dating someone else. The byplay with Pete’s ex was fun. I wonder if we’re supposed to suss that Noh knows he’s gay in this version?

I'm doing a face-off style watch along of this new version versus the original 2014-2015 version. Where I decide with each new ep which one wins. I will render a final judgement at the end. Frankly, I'm warming to this show way more than I thought I would give my extreme affection for the original.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - Oh it’s so cute that he just wants to officially move in. And the necklace claiming thing was darling. Mini boyfriend era. Min being a kept baby girl was kinda fun. The family thing was too sweet. Oh noes my man has been strangled! Oh good he’s okay. Stupid breakup “for the plot” moment, they could have easily been separated by baddies, we didn’t need to go through this.

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 3 of 16 - I don’t care how cute he is or how longing those beautiful eyes, ghosting is a pretty big offense. Especially high school first love. I’m glad Ter is being difficult about it. Still the backstory is getting frustratingly confusing. It seems increasingly convoluted (full of girls) and I’m not sure what happened. So I’m not sure if I should be on Hill’s side or Ter’s. I’m beginning to feel manipulated and I don’t like it. I still like the show, but not as much as I did last week. I’m on a roller coaster here.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - It remains odd, disjointed, but still modestly entertaining. Ozone using a well placed Phi for manipulation purposes made me happy. Random het wedding is random. 2 drunk horny sunshine babygurls was cute tho.

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - AKA Just one meet cute after another. Nice queer rep this time. It’s lovely, just not my style BL.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 10 fin - Okay so last week half the ep was eng subbed and this week only 3/4. Whatever. Please note my extreme annoyance with everything about this show will color my rating. As it should. Ready for a mini rant?

Conclusion

What to say about this damn show? It wasn’t what I wanted and I didn’t like it. I’m disappointed in myself for having expectations and in it for not living up to them. It starred August for fucks sake! How could they fuck it up so bad? I wanted it to be a Thai reinterpretation of the brilliance that was Addicted giving us the ending that we never got to have but the narrative deserved. I got a resounding nope. The side couple was messed with, rearranged, and then entirely dropped and forgotten. The main romance was weirdly obsessive without any physical payout or emotional resolution, as if this remake were the censored Chinese version. All characters acted irrationally most of the time, and from what I could tell there was no logic to the ending, which seemed to be to minors escaping to a beach, abandoning their schooling, families, and respective futures. It was a hot mess. Without being hot. 4/10 fatally flawed, do not bother

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - it's bad. I don't like it.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 8 - High school student Do Hoe lives with his violent and brutal father who runs a Taekwondo gym in a rural area. Then cheerful Ju Young arrives who dreams of going to college for Taekwondo. Joy begins to fill Do Hoe's dark life. An unexpected incident forces them apart, they reunite over a decade years later.

Make no mistake this one is dark. And Korea can go many directions when it leans dark. So I’m not entirely sure what to expect. All the triggers: child abuse, corporal punishment, alcoholism, gambling, and a few other things. But also a fantastically awkward kiss. Oh this is VERY good. I’m enjoying it. Tumblr is officially losing its tiny mind about it. What can I say? This hellhole loves it some gritty dark angst with high romance and deep meaning. All hail the return of Queen Hwang Da Seul.

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 3 of 7 - He kinda is the worst boss ever. Now he’s turned into a drinking buddy whether baby likes it or not. I really feel for this kid. I do want more backstory on both of them. Why are they the way they are? All that said….. phenomenal kiss. Thanks boys.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 4 of ? - I do like the brothers relationship. Even though we know it’s gonna become romantic, it’s nice to see them all teasing and friendly. Meanwhile I’m getting a little exhausted by the bullying and I’m very much ready for the revenge narrative to continue.

Although I understand we have more of a spiral first, could we get on to some actual kissing soon?

I'm shallow I just wanna see BV kiss the next boy. It's the BL world's version of Pokemon.

Our Golden Times (Hong Kong YT) 6 fin - Okay so this was the last ep!

Summary

This was an odd disjointed little piece, but the most BL BL we’ve ever seen out of Hong Kong. The optics are good and it’s enjoyable for what it is, which is a circumspect, badly subbed, and slightly odd yet earnest reunion romance. I liked it more for what it could be, and for what it represented, than for what it actually was, but I still liked it.

7/10 recommended with reservations

I would like to nominate Our Golden Times @bengiyo as a candidate for the next "Girl you tried." Because it really did try hard to be the best little BL it could be under the circumstances.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - I do like all the couples, and in classic Taiwan style we’re ending ultra sappy (when they don’t fuck it up, and I don’t think this one will). Mei is the secret power behind the throne - as we all knew - love this for her, and us.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 5 of 10 eps - I'm falling beind because my subber is, but sort-of trying to keep up. I don’t know. Just Japan messing with us, I guess.

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - It’s oddly erotic with all the gym stuff but also awkward and weird with the jelly plus suspicion. (Hi GeonU, another Thai/Korea BL for you? Is it a thing for you now? Could you recruit Jimin to the cause? I mean you go him into a reality competition. BL is right there. Waiting. Pretty please with a shirtless hottie on top?) Anygay, I keep thinking that this show would actually be better if the Thai character were just a Korean character and this was just a regular KBL. Although, it probably still wouldn’t be very good.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming:

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea Mon Viki) ep 1 of - Okay, this is both a movie (already out) and a series. Neither one is likely BL and I can't imagine it will end happily. Here's your synopsis:

Cynical fun loving student Young pinballs from home, to class, to on night stands. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju and hookups.

Apparently this is causing a homophobic ruckus in SK right now. As is wont to happen when one puts a really big name in the gay lead and your country is, well, pretty damn homophobic. Brokeback mukbang anyone? (Oh yes I am aware I'm a turd, but I'm too old for this crap. I guess that makes me a coprolite.)

10/23 See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga Viki et al) 10 eps? - Zi Xiong, a third-generation heir, attempting to flee from taking over their family business, meets and falls in love with Shao Peng, who works as a hearing-impaired nurse. From the same production house as Kiseki Dear To Me in partnership with Shinehouse Theatre, funded by Taiwan’s BIGART + Japan's Rakuten (Viki). Show includes Lin Chia Yo (Be Loved in House: I Do). Director Chiang Ping Chen’s childhood experiences with his deaf uncle have inspired the drama.

10/27 Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) 24 eps! - New directing yet another university BL with engineers + their mentees. Based on a Jittirain novel. with a massive cast and massive run time. We will be watching this until APRIL of 2025!

ForceBook playing the same old characters = enemies to lovers tsunder/sunshine jock/nerd thing.

PerthChimonSanta are doing the cohabitation cool guy/dork trope.

JuniorMark are doing popular sunshine meets lonely sad boy (the only interesting pair IMHO).

Not sure if these will be interwoven (We Are style) or shorter stand alone runs-within-the-run of 8 eps each (Y-Destiny style).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

You just kissed his brains out, what do you think? (Eh, we all know the aniyo is coming. This uke is made of tsudere and 아니요 ) (Damn Business)

I know, it's not a good show, but just LOOK at his face.

And the uke drunken shenanigans was brilliant. Loved it. (Battle Writers)

I did LOVE the twist on Golf. (Love Sick 2024)

Joke coming for our hearts just like...... it's TOO MUCH. War is SO DAMN GOOD. (J&J)

Calling out the trope HDS?

Gah. So awkward.

(Both from LFTCOT)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

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nvuy · 5 months ago

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omg did u see the sunday leaks ab his path and element..... hes also suspected to be released in 2.7 😭😭😭 sunday lovers r in agony rn

sunday potential leaks under cut;

aundayyyysyeyyyyy sundayydydyerrrerredder

hgrrgggggggggggggg

imaginary harmony… hehehehegrrrrrrrrrrrr

stellaron hunter aundaygrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

i always had this thing where you are an on call mechanic and you travel to planets and people commission you to fix their cars or their ships or whatever. you own a little warehouse on your home planet, whatever whatever.

you love your job. you’re also a bit of a grouch though. bit snarky, sarcastic, but you can offer some good advice if you need to.

you also happen to be the mechanic elio calls on when their ship needs repairs. it’s all completely secret. they call you in, you come on board, fix their shit, they pay you nicely, and then you leave.

you know them all well enough by now.

you’ve got elio who, when you come on board, says, “oh, by the way, watch the stairs on your way down.” (and surely enough you end up toppling down because there’s a loose step and you bruise your knee) (thanks for the warning). sometimes, you’re convinced he breaks their mangy old coffee machine just so you can visit again.

kafka loves to mess with you, but she means well. she enjoys a good chat, and sometimes when she’s not busy, she’ll follow you down to the engine and bring coffee. she drinks it black. gross.

she’ll ask about you, what you’ve been up to, how you’re feeling, whatever whatever. calls you beautiful, too. you guys probably kissed once. it’s sort of complicated.

blade is unfortunately your favourite. you love giving him giant hugs when you cross paths on the ship, and sometimes it’s like a reward when he returns the favour. at first you thought he was some big brooding hulk of a man, and then you learned he’s actually just some dude with really big arms. you also learn he owns bunny slippers and he likes pancakes, as weird as that is.

silver wolf cooks them best. you don’t really speak to her; she’s way too absorbed in her phone, but she thinks you’re cool. sometimes asks you questions about her PC or phone hardware and stuff, to which you reply, “i’m not tech support, weirdo.” she knows that, but your reactions are always fun. if kafka’s not around, she’ll show you the clothes she’s planning to buy online.

so you’re a common occurrence on the shuttle, sure. imagine your damn surprise when you stomp on board in the morning and when kafka greets you over her coffee, you accidentally shoulder check some random skinny dude (that’s not elio, because elio wouldn’t stand in the way at all) when you open the door.

you don’t pay it mind.

rather, you barely even notice and stalk over to the stupid machine while elio waves you a good morning. as you’re working, kafka leans on the bench next to you and offers you some of her coffee. it’s gross, but it keeps you awake enough to finish the job.

she’s chatting about whatever again until she falls comfortably silent.

“so, uh…” the machine buzzes to life as you plug it back into the wall. “what’s with angel face?”

she hums. “sunday.” she’s watching him now. silver wolf is showing him something on her phone, and he looks hilariously confused. “poor bird’s lost. flew too close to the sun.”

whatever that meant.

she takes her mug back from her hands. “why? like him?”

you hum lowly. when you turn and lock eyes with him, sunday quickly looks back down at silver wolf’s phone.

“handsome.” you weigh your options. “i think we’ll get along just fine.”

you were both doomed from the start, you and sunday. the pining was so obvious. you both practically chased each other around and then played it off as a coincidence when you bumped into to each other.

blade took it no mind, silver wolf gagged every time you two interacted. elio thought it was sweet, actually (he’s not surprised at how you two have developed). kafka plays wingwoman, because of course she does. she won’t voice it, but she thinks you both deserve to feel love again.

#god i loveveeee himmmmm euuuuu he’s just slime to me #so gooey so squishy #stellaron hunter sunday lives in my head rent free #stellaron hunter found family arc WHEN #i painfully said to myself thank god he’s coming in 2.7 that means i can pull for jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu nation gained another angel today #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday hsr #✦ ( scribbles. )#✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )

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sanjisluvbot · 2 years ago

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Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Reader

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[ Check Masterlist for ch 9-19 ]

Sequel just uploaded 1

Life began to feel so boring. The days blended into one another and suddenly we’re in march. Staying up late catching up on your favorite show because there is nothing better to do right now. One piece was such a breathe of fresh air, full of adventure and characters that seem amazing to be around and explore the world with. You wished to be in the world where u can freely be who you wanted, the world where you weren’t shackled by the burdens of reality.

You’ve been around all the corners of the internet so you know of shifting and astral projection which is exactly what seems to be going on right now. Rewatching episodes leading up to the time skip around 4 in the morning till your eyes flutter shut. Suddenly the wafting scent of the ocean filled your nose. “ Is she a stowaway?” “ How have we just found her we haven’t been on land for over a week now��. You opened your eyes to the snout of a reindeer and other very familiar faces.

You sat up so fast knocking into the poor doctor. Panic set through you because the first assumption anyone would have is that they’re in a dream or— congrats you’ve finally lost your damn mind. “ Who are you people”.

“ We’ve got the same question for you”

“ well I asked first”

The blunt part of a sword was thrust into your face by a very angry green swordsman. Fear etched across your face you give him a once over. Zoro. To your left was Robin and chopper holding his snout on her lap. There should be absolutely no reason that you’re in this world with these wacky 15th century pirates from your goofy anime show. Your voice shakes as you try to convince the green haired man to stop threatening your life.

“ Listen this is surely a misunderstanding, I really don’t understand how I have gotten here and I’m not really too sure who you people are.”

Maybe if they think that I don’t know who they are I can figure out a way to get out of this mess without ruining the story.

“ What is your last memory before you woke up on our ship” a voice from behind spoke. Turning to the left at the top of the stairs was Nami with Sanji following behind her.

“ I was laying in my bed falling asleep and then I woke up here”

After that you were bombarded with questions, what’s your name, your age, if an 8ft skeleton can see your underwear and it nearly drained the life out of you. The sun was now beginning to set after such a long day of being interrogated by the crew you used to watch through a screen. The captain was sitting on the head of the Sunny watching the day fade away when he stretched his arm to you pulling you to sit with him.

It was quiet for a while and nerves began to set in. Does he see through me? I know a lot of people don’t give luffy the credit but he’s way more intelligent than you’d think. “ What is it like where you’re from y/n” he spoke as he turned to face you.

“ Very different.”

“ Tell me about it please”

The sun completely faded into night and the stars littered the sky while you told luffy about “ where you’re from” and he was absolutely entranced by the world he’s never been. You ended up telling Luffy the truth about your origins, somewhat about himself, there was just something so compelling and trusting about him you didn’t think nothing of it. You slept in the girls room next to Nami that night, thinking about the next step and getting home.

Was this really a dream or did your desire to escape mundane life make you shift into this world of unknown.

The next day you went to eat breakfast with the crew and luffy starts spouting all the things you told him the night before. With seemingly no thought behind his words as he swallowed everything on his plate, though his crew members all stopped to stare at you in confusion.

“ I thought you said you weren’t from here?”

“ You said you didn’t know how you got here”

“ Well I wasn’t exactly lying, I really don’t know how or why I’ve been transported into your world. I just didn’t want to scare you or make you think I’m crazy with all of this.”

Over the next few days you were beginning to settle with the crew, you spent hours getting to know everyone and having the most fun you’ve had in years. Nami and Robin were curious about your world and you were more than elated to tell them all the things you enjoyed. The boys liked when you played their silly games, Sanji was obsessed with everything about you and loved having you perched on the counter when he was cooking so you can serve as his taste tester.

Zoro only just began to acknowledge you after finding out you also had a love for drinking, it became really easy to bond with the man. You knew you had to go back but what’s the harm in spending time with such a loving group of people, it’s not everyday someone is given your experience don’t waste it being worried.

You were able to convince Nami to give you a blank sheet of paper where you wrote all the things you knew about shifting and astral projection. You’ve been with the crew over a week now spending every night trying to shift back to your world. Sometimes you feel close others are strangely disturbed by Robin and Nami whether they are sparking up a conversation with you or knocking things over which disturbs your concentration.

The next few days you began to see birds meaning you were finally reaching land, the sabody archipelago. You know the way this arch ends and you need to go home now before you spend two years on an unknown island doing who knows what because YOU aren’t a straw hat and you have no place where you can learn to polish your skills.

The bubbly island became visible and you’d be reaching it by midday, while you were sitting on the head of the Sunny with Luffy again he asked you his million dollar question.

“ Y/n join my crew” he smiled. Your cheeks burned and you had to turn away from the boy whose smile brightened all your days.

“ Luffy I would love to but—”

“ Great- EVERYONE Y/N” you clasped your hand over his mouth.

“ Luffy l can’t join your crew. I have to go home I don’t even belong in this world”

“ Why do you want to leave” sadness dripped from his voice.

“ Yeah, we’ve been having so much fun” the small doctor announced from the deck.

“ It has been very fun I’ll admit but I don’t belong here with you guys. I’ve got a whole life in my world— and a family and just so much to do.” You reasoned.

The rest of the day the crew seemed angry and distant, you simply couldn’t understand why. When they all found out where you really came from they said they would help you get home. During dinner that night you were seated between luffy and Zoro who barley uttered a word while hushed conversations were surrounding the rest of the table. It was insufferable and reminded you of elementary school when someone didn’t want to be your friend anymore and told everyone about it.

“ Luffy are you upset with me? I haven’t done anything wrong”

“ Why do you want to leave? You just joined the crew and were on a new island”

“ I never said I was joining your crew luffy”

“ you know the captain doesn’t take no for an answer y/n” Zoro chuckled.

With a huff you stood up everyone’s eyes landing on you. “ Are you all acting this way because you don’t want me to leave?”

“ Why would we want a crew member to leave us?” Nami’s voice wobbled as tears formed in her eyes. Are they serious? When did u ever agree or tell these people that you were a part of their crew.

“ Listen closely all of you. You have to understand I am not from here, I never joined the straw hats, and I don’t even have any powers I can’t protect myself.”

“ That’s why you have me Y/n-chwaaan”

“ ignore that idiot cook but you have Luffy and I, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you”

“ Who is an idiot you damn moss ball !”

A fight between the cook and the swordsman broke out and you would usually find everything hilarious but…

These people have convinced themselves you are one of them and they don’t want you to leave. You decided tonight will be the night where you will go home with or without their help especially because you already know what’s in store the next day. Laying next to Nami that night waiting for her breathing to even out so you can concentrate with no interruptions you hear soft sobbing.

“ Are you alright Nami..”

“ Y/n I know you want to go back but can you stay a little longer we all care about you and enjoy having you around. We really feel like you’re one of our crew mates”

“ Sure, I’m not missing anything important right now” lying is better than letting this girl cry all night. When her breathing finally evened out you were able to try again.

Eyes fluttering open you were finally in your own bedroom. It was just as you left it, your iPad paused on the intro to one piece and the sun was showing through your curtains.

I really did it.

Life began as usual but you had a newfound appreciation for all the little things that made life worth it. Friends and family found your new outlook pleasant and you finally felt like you turned on a new leaf. While you were getting ready for bed applying all of your creams and oils the Tv in the living room turned on.

Wealth, Fame, Power.

A chill ran through your spine, you haven’t watched the show in over a month in fear of being brought back into that world by some odd chance. Getting up to turn off the tv something in the hallway made a noise. The fear of someone or something being in your house had you clenching on the door knob for dear life.

Just open the door nothing is there you’re only scaring yourself.

Opening the door and walking down the dark hallway into the softly illuminated living room the episode of the strawhats finally meeting up after two years was playing.

“ My favorite arch I should rewatch soon”

“ Why don’t you live it instead?” A voice from behind hissed.

You felt your heart thumping in your ears as you slowly turned to be met with a very angry Captain.

——

Not proofread ! 🫶🏽

I was inspired by a similar stories I’ve seen down the tl hope you enjoyed. Pt 2 coming soon maybe

#straw hat pirates #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader #platonic yandere #yandere #Yandere strawhats #yandere one piece #ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #op nami #nico robin #ussop one piece #black reader #x black fem reader #x black reader

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quintessencewrites · 1 year ago

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Yes, Daddy pt. 4

stud! Riri x stud! Shuri x black! fem! reader

Who else did they take together in the backseat of Shuri’s SUV?

How many times did Riri use her tired-ass pick-up lines?

How many girls had gone to Wakanda and been fucked in Shuri’s childhood bedroom?

Warnings: ANGST!! SMUT!!! 18+, spanking, degradation, explicit language, praise kink, daddy kink, mami kink, dom! Shuri, switch! Riri, sub! reader, mentions of cheating, reader gets with a man..., rough sex, edging, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), choking, strap slinging Riri, alcohol use, squirting, fluff, probably some that I missed

Word Count: 13.1k + (you guys have no idea how excited I am about that)

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @shurislover @6-noir @ihearttish @vampzxi @verachii @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @pocketsizedpanther @shuris3leg @bellaallebbella1

Riri couldn’t remember a time when she’d slept so soundly. Nightmares and restless nights grew up with her, and slumber evaded her, creating a habitual insomniac out of the poor girl. Shooting up from bed in a cold sweat and slight shiver wasn’t out of the ordinary. The creak in Riri’s bed, when she tossed and turned through the night, is what finally caused her roommate to abandon ship and move out.

Riri was free to ignore sleep all she wanted in the comfort of her loneliness. She could turn and toss without complaint. Her bed could squeak and creak as much as she pleased. She could flip her pillow to the cool side over and over and over until the sun came up.

But at that point, why try to sleep at all?

It didn’t make much sense, so she didn’t. Instead, she filled her night with bodies. A presence to ward off the loneliness. Something to do in the darkness.

Her bed still creaked and squeaked, and she still tossed and turned, but this time, she wasn’t alone.

It didn’t matter much to her who the person was; she wouldn’t remember their name in the morning anyway.

And they’d be out of her bed long before that. Riri didn’t do sleepovers.

Then came along Shuri Udaku.

And Riri had her first sleepover since childhood.

And her first friend.

And the sleepless nights got better. The nightmares didn’t go away completely, and some nights, sleep still dodged her, but with Shuri present, Riri could rest, really rest, for a few hours.

They could be at each other’s throats all damn day, but when night came, they held each other in silence, bodies together, fingers laced. The only sound Riri focused on was that of Shuri’s heart against her ear.

On the nights that Shuri spent in her own room, keeping her own company, Riri went back to strangers in her bed to keep her sane until the sun came up.

But those nights were so long gone that she couldn’t even see them over the horizon. Years of doctors and sleep aides, essential oils, and so much melatonin when all she needed was you.

The weight of your body atop hers, the slow, steady rhythm of your breaths, the way you sighed in your sleep and curled into her. Damned be to the prickles in her arm when your head rested upon it for too long and the way your legs tangled beneath the sheets.

She didn’t sleep well unless you were in her bed, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that she needed you there.

The first time you fell asleep there, you saw Riri’s brows relax, the permanent wrinkle that resided between them fading. You made it a habit to take up space in her bed whenever you could, to watch with a slight pride, knowing that wrinkle only disappeared for you.

Riri welcomed the feeling of waking up to you beneath her, your hair in her face, and the scent of you in her bedding. She could wake up with that for the rest of her life and die a happy woman.

So, waking up without you that morning was jarring. The wrinkle returned, and confusion clouded her sleepy eyes.

You were there when she fell asleep; she was sure of that. The sound of your light snores caused her to doze off. Your bonnet lay abandoned on your pillow.

It only took a moment for her coppery gaze to focus, and when they did, you came into view.

You paced the other side of the room in silence, a trail of heat following the path you’d made in the carpet. Your knee-length braids swung behind you in the rhythm of your movements. The screen in your hand illuminated your darkened face with a faux blue light, but it was enough for Riri to notice the pinch in your brows and the way they drew together the more you scrolled.

You were far too engrossed in whatever held your attention to notice Riri sit up and rub the sleep from her eyes. Worry was pooling in the depths of her stomach as she looked over at the clock on her desk. The LED numbers were too fucking bright, 1:15 am blaring across the screen.

A groan crept from the back of her throat. You two had only slept two hours, and that itself was a blessing; Riri could kiss her chances of falling back asleep goodbye.

“Why are you up, ma?” Her voice was deep, groggy, and soft as it traveled across the room toward you.

Your head snapped in her direction, but only for a moment. “Our phones been blowing up,” you replied lowly, talking more to the phone than to Ri. “Surprised that didn’t wake your ass up.”

Riri glanced at her phone on the desk next to the clock but made no move to grab it. “It couldn’t wait til the sun was up?”

Your silence wasn’t an adequate answer, and dread rose with Riri’s worry. “Is it Shuri?”

She was a part-time college student, part-time princess, and she still had duties back home that couldn’t be tended to across oceans. It was supposed to be a short trip, only a few days to handle her shit and return. But a few days was now two weeks with no end in sight.

Both you and Riri were feeling the effects of Shuri’s absence, though Riri wouldn’t outwardly admit it. The distance was hard, and the time difference was harder. Days would go by before any of your schedules aligned for so much as a twenty-minute FaceTime.

Even now, it was nearing the thirty-hour mark since either of you had spoken to the princess.

Riri didn’t think that anything was wrong; Shuri could sure as hell handle her own, and what she couldn’t handle, the Dora Milaje could.

Your scoff was an ugly sound, anger embedded within it, and Riri flinched. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

You crossed the room with quick steps, falling to the bed beside Riri and shoving the too-bright screen in her face.

“You seen this?”

Riri peered at the phone behind squinted eyes, hoping the blurry image would adjust.

When it finally did, Riri found herself staring at a video. It was hard to see, clearly taken from the phone camera of a fan’s shaky hands in a dark nightclub.

Shuri was never hard to spot; Riri had grown accustomed to having to pick the princess out in crowds swimming with people. She looked good, and Riri’s heart beat a bit harder beneath her chest. Shuri sported a black suit like it was uniform; she never failed to impress in them. Dark shades were glued to her face despite her being indoors and it already being dark.

Riri couldn’t help the brow that shot to the top of her head at the scene playing out for her. She knew Shuri could catch ass; she’d witnessed it more times than she could count, but goddamn.

“Goddamn,” her words parroted her thoughts, strained and breathy. She took the phone from your hand and brought it closer to her face. Ass was being thrown, and Shuri was catching it expertly. They moved in tandem, Shuri with one hand laced around the girl’s waist, the other in her hand.

Riri couldn’t count how many times she watched the video; she just knew the two of you sat there in silence while it played. That was, until you broke her trance, scrolling further down until an image appeared.

And once again, it was Shuri, head held high with a jawline sharp enough to slice and a slick smirk accentuating her cheeks. The girl sitting in front of her was resting her head against the panther, eyes shut, lips pursed. Riri’s eyes were bugging out of her head at this point. She was fully awake.

“Kehlani?” Her gaze shifted between you and the photo, eyeing it as if it would come to life. “She catching ass from Kehlani?”

Your lips were pursed, and you were quick to snatch the phone back from Riri. “It’s all over the place. Twitter, Instagram, damn TMZ.”

“What the hell?” Riri whispered, mostly to herself. How Shuri always found herself in these lucky positions, she had no clue, but Ri made a mental note to start accompanying her on business trips.

“And we getting tagged in this shit across the board, Ri. They calling Shuri greedy, saying she got a harem and shit.”

“What the hell?”

“Some of ‘em saying she cheating on me with you, you with me, and both of us with fucking Kehlani.”

“She ain’ cheating on nobody-” the words trailed off into nothing, Riri stopping short at the venomous look you were currently throwing her way.

“You okay with her catching ass from Kehlani?”

Riri could’ve laughed out loud; what a fucking sentence.

“Nigga, it’s Kehlani-”

“So?”

“So, I wish I was catching ass from Kehlani-”

Riri wasn’t getting a word in inch-wise in this conversation. You cut her off again, “Okay, let’s say it’s not Kehlani. You okay with her catching ass if it ain’ from me or you? You think she fucking her?”

Riri shrugged, finally reaching for her own phone. “You just described Shuri’s weekends, baby.”

You went silent for so long that Riri looked up from her device to make sure you were still there. She wasn’t expecting to meet your gaze. Your mahogany eyes, usually lit up with a smile, were dull and hot with the inferno that burned behind them. “What?”

Riri recoiled, thrown by the way your question burned her. She rose from the bed slowly, readying herself to backtrack, though, truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong. “What, baby?”

“So when she not here with us,” your index finger pointed from Riri back to yourself. “She catching ass from other bitches?”

“Catching ass, getting ass.” Riri had the audacity to shrug again. “Not like she used to, but-”

Poor Riri should’ve just put her foot in her mouth at that moment. You stepped forward, closing the space between the two of you, and Riri allowed her hands to rest on your hips. The breath she didn’t know she was holding released when you sunk into her touch.

“And you’re okay with that?”

Riri tilted her head to the side, her tongue swiping her lips before she responded. “We ain’ never been exclusive, baby-”

“We who?”

Riri had to suck back the sigh she was about to release. “Me and Shuri-”

“It ain’ just you and Shuri no more, Riri-”

She was unaware of how rough her movements were, of how she lightly scratched you when she reached to cup your cheeks. “Quit interrupting me, baby.”

You tore Riri’s hands from your face like they burned and shoved her back a step. She stumbled, and you almost reached out to catch her before she steadied herself. Her shocked eyes met the fight building in yours. She could see the deep red line, only about an inch long, that lingered on your cheek where her hands once were. “Shit, baby-” She took a step toward you and you took a step back. “I-I’m sorry.”

Her apology went in one ear and out the other while you tried to level your breathing. The two of you stood perfectly still, gazes locked on one another.

“So Shuri ain’ just fucking me or you? There are others?”

Riri knew there wouldn’t be any good way to answer, but you gave her no chance to anyway.

“Are- are you-?” You glanced over to her bed, imagining how many other bodies had taken up space in it, wondering how many had lately.

Riri’s voice was small, pleading, “We ain’ never-” She stumbled over her words.

Your anger was growing, your nostrils flared, and your eyes narrowed. Had you been a cartoon character, steam would have been blowing from your ears. “The two of you gave me the fucking silent treatment until I agreed to go public with you, but we not fucking exclusive?”

Riri had never been so silent, so unsure.

“Shuri been fucking outside of us? You been fucking outside of us?”

Riri just stared at you. That’s okay, though. Her silence was enough of an answer.

She felt her heart physically break when your voice did. “And y’all okay with that?”

Riri found her tongue, though it probably would have been better had she not. “You not?”

Her body visibly recoiled when a deep, insincere chuckle left your parted lips. Panic flooded her tiny body when you started moving about the room, collecting your belongings and throwing them into the black duffle you’d arrived with.

She took barely two steps to reach you, reaching into your bag to throw the contents back to the floor. “Stop, baby, stop!”

You just silently collected your items, not wanting to stay any longer.

Riri snatched the bag from your hands and turned it upside down, dumping all of your things onto the floor. “C’mon, baby. Listen-” She might as well have been talking to a brick wall, and her already damaged heart broke further at the sight of you on your knees, picking your possessions up one by one.

She dropped to her knees with you, trying desperately to grab for your hands, which you kept snatching away from her. “Listen to me, baby. Stop, please-”

Her beg was so pathetic it froze you in place, and you allowed yourself to look at her through your lashes.

“Me and Shuri been doing this for so long, baby, we didn’t know-” She stopped short, halting her words behind her bit bottom lip.

Riri started again. “I didn’t think-”

“Clearly-”

She ignored your jab and continued. “Me and Shuri ain’ never been exclusive, baby-”

The rest of her sentence floated through the air, never reaching your ears. Her and Shuri. That’s all you were hearing; it sent ice through your veins. Her and Shuri were never exclusive. They weren’t exclusive before you, and they wouldn’t be exclusive during you.

What a foolish girl you were, to have found this out so late. For a year and nine months, they’d been fucking you and each other, and Bast knows who else.

Who else did they take together in the backseat of Shuri’s SUV?

How many times did Riri use her tired-ass pick-up lines?

How many girls had gone to Wakanda and been fucked in Shuri’s childhood bedroom?

You searched for the answers behind Riri’s eyes but found nothing.

She bit back a sob when your hand slipped from hers, but the shock in her face when she saw yours bore a smile dried away all her tears. “Baby?” she whispered.

Your eyes were sad, and your cheeks strained, but the smile never fell. “It’s cool. We not exclusive; you and Shuri never was.”

Riri’s brows drew together. “Did you even hear me-”

One hand rose to silence the girl before you while the other went back to gathering your items from the floor. “I get it.”

Riri’s voice was full of sorrow. “Then why you still packing?”

“I think I wanna sleep in my room tonight-”

“Y/n-“

Something deep in your chest panged hard, hearing your real name roll off her tongue with such dejection. It took everything in you to swallow the feeling down. Your tongue felt like lead, weighing heavy with your next words: “It’s alright. You’ll find somebody else to fill your bed tonight.”

Your hand waved the words away as though they meant nothing, but they knocked the air straight from Riri’s lungs in a gasp that pained you to hear.

She watched with wide eyes and a face full of hurt as you stood, turning towards her with your bag thrown over your shoulder and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s cool, Ri.” You whispered with such false confidence you didn’t even believe what you said. “I’ll hit you up later.”

Panic rose like bile in Riri’s throat when you reached for the doorknob. “Baby-“ she tried again. Her plea was so soft it actually stopped you in your tracks. Fictitious hope washed over her when you took a step back, walking toward her.

Her arms reached toward you out of instinct, waiting for you to fall into them.

But you didn’t.

Your lips pressed to her cheek softly, and Riri held her breath. In 21 months, she’d welcomed your kisses, the feeling of your lips on any part of her body.

This time, she hated it.

It felt so empty, so final.

Riri hated it more when you pulled away, further and further, until you were out the door, and there she stood in her dark room, alone, with the video of Shuri at the club playing on her discarded phone on a continuous loop.

The weight of the world rested heavily on the Princess of Wakanda’s shoulders. She’d only been home for three weeks, but every second there reminded her why she’d left.

Sure, she missed her family, and she sure as hell missed her lab, but nothing soothed the ache in her chest that came with missing you.

And yeah, she missed Riri too, but Ri would have to pry that confession from her.

Shuri had been slacking, which was an unusual occurrence for the girl. She hadn’t come close to keeping her promise of constant contact while she was away, not even daring to count the days since she’d last spoken to either of you.

That would all change soon, she thought. The Talon Fighter was growing closer to campus, and she could not wait to get back.

The moment her feet touched American soil, they took her in the direction of Riri’s room. Every time she had spoken to the two of you, that’s where you were residing, so with any luck, she would be greeted with a welcome committee.

It was the middle of the day, and campus was crowded, with frantic students rushing to class or somber ones leaving. Regardless, it took Shuri close to fifteen minutes to reach Riri’s door in what should have been a five-minute walk.

Her knuckles rapped against the solid door with urgency.

When it didn’t open right away, she raised her hand to knock a bit harder, but the door swinging ajar stopped her short.

Riri had opened the door and walked back to her desk, more interested in whatever she was working on than on who was visiting her.

“What kind of ‘welcome home’ was that?”

Shuri’s smooth words pulled Riri’s head from her computer, but only for a moment. She didn’t pay the Wakandan any mind as she slipped into the room, shutting the heavy door behind her. “Ri? Hello?”

Riri barely mustered out a “Hey. Welcome home.”

Shuri peered around the room with a raised brow. “Where’s y/n?”

Riri lifted her head long enough to glance at the clock on the wall. “I’m assuming class.” Her voice was whispered and muffled and just didn’t sound like Ri at all.

She sounded more like the girl Shuri had found crying in the hall all those years ago.

And that caused the pit in Shuri’s stomach to swirl with dread.

When Riri stood to retrieve something from the other side of the room, Shuri followed. “You not happy to see me?” She teased, trying to edge Riri back into their usual banter.

She didn’t take the bait, ignoring Shuri instead. It didn’t look purposeful; Riri just seemed too engrossed in her own thoughts.

Shuri stepped closer to the smaller girl, closing the space between them until Ri’s back was pressed against the wall, and Shuri’s hand on her waist kept her there.

The other hand trapped Riri’s head in place, palming the wall beside it. Shuri bent from her full height, leaning until she and Riri were face to face, so close that Ri was forced to stare into the mocha chasm that was Shuri’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Gone from Shuri’s voice was the sarcasm from before. There was no teasing, no short quips.

Riri sank into Shuri’s touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

It was a rare intimate moment between the two, and Riri would rather relish in it, even if for a moment, than ruin it with words.

But Shuri wasn’t letting up. She removed her hand from the wall, moving it to grip Riri’s chin, forcing their faces closer until their foreheads kissed.

“What happened, Ri?”

Riri welcomed the softness, even basking in it for just a second before she lightly pushed Shuri away.

Shuri took the hint, taking a step back but not allowing the space between her and Ri to grow too large. Her eyes swam with concern, searching Riri’s face for an answer her lips weren’t providing.

Riri’s tiny frame shook with emotion. Her fingers tensed, her hands running across her face with such a desolate sigh it almost sprang tears to her eyes.

“I ain’ seen y/n in bout a week.” Her confession only rang slightly true; she’d seen you around campus, between classes, and in the caf, and each time, you acted like you hadn’t seen her.

Like you couldn’t feel the intensity of her stare on your back, burning a Riri-sized hole into you with a fiery glare.

You hadn’t texted, hadn’t called. When she went to your room and knocked, you didn’t answer.

It scorched Riri to see you going about life without her. Almost like you hadn’t needed her to begin with.

But Bast, did she need you. Riri hadn’t slept all week, and she knew it was written all over her face.

The dark circles that decorated her under eyes looked as though they weighed a ton, and the wrinkle in her brow had taken up a permanent residence.

Shuri paused for a moment, letting Riri’s words settle in the air between them.

“Fuck you mean you ain’ see Y/n in a week?”

“Exactly what I said.” Riri fell into the chair behind her desk with a thud.

“How you ain’ see her in a week, Ri? Last time I talked to you-“

“Over a week ago-“

Shuri continued as though Riri hadn’t spoken. “You two were here. Together, I saw you.”

Riri took a beat to take a deep breath and released it slowly before replying. “Yes. And she saw you.”

Confusion riddled Shuri’s sharp features. “She saw me?”

“Yeah, nigga, she saw you. The whole damn internet saw you.”

Shuri was stunned into silence. She knew exactly what Riri was talking about, and wave after wave crashed over her. Embarrassment, disappointment, and confusion rippled, and Shuri’s eyes squeezed shut, hoping to escape the uncomfortable feeling.

“And it upset her?” The end of her sentence fluttered upwards with perplexity.

The princess hadn’t seen a problem with her actions at the time. She partied often, and she partied hard. Shuri was known for catching ass on a good Friday night, and this had been just that.

Sure, more girls had seen the inside of Shuri’s dorm room than she might have liked to admit, but she hadn’t been ashamed of it.

Not until she learned it upset you.

She really had slowed down, though, since becoming involved with you. Hell, she’d slowed down since she and Riri had started fucking. What used to be one or two girls a night quickly morphed into none over multiple months.

But Riri didn’t know that. She still thought Shuri’s reputation preceded her, imagining that she was keeping the same company as before.

In reality, the Wakandan native’s interest in anyone else was long gone.

Images of your face that night flashed through Riri’s memories.

You, pacing the room, looking absolutely heartbroken.

You, on your knees, picking up your things.

You kissing Riri’s cheek before pulling away from her.

Riri’s poor heart ached at the thought, and in came the now familiar feel of her throat growing tight and her eyes stinging with salty tears.

She quickly blinked them away, turning to face Shuri with a sigh that sounded like it contained all the world’s sorrows.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “Yeah, man, it upset her.”

Add disgust to the abundance of emotions Shuri was currently feeling. She cursed herself aloud for making you feel that way. She could just imagine the way you held your head high, refusing to cry with a quiver in your lip that only she would have noticed.

How you probably departed with a broken smile on your face.

It was eerie how right she was.

She gulped, attempting (and failing) to wet her suddenly very dry throat. “Did she say anything?” Shuri asked through the scratchiness.

Riri looked over with blank eyes. “Said so much I couldn’t get a word in.” A hush fell between them before Riri spoke again. “We gave her the silent treatment until she agreed to go public, but we ain’ commit to her.”

Shuri winced. Yeah, they had done that…

“She ain’ asking for much, man. She just want us.”

Shuri’s long legs carried her to Riri’s bed with ease. She fell to the mattress with a soft thump before speaking. “Okay,” she said plainly.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, Ri. She want us,” Shuri’s shrug left Riri speechless. “She got us.”

Riri’s mouth fell open with the weight of Shuri’s words. “Simple as that?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Riri stood to her feet, letting them lead her to Shuri, still on the bed. Her hands hesitated for a moment before resting on Shuri’s clothed knees, her eyes shining with forgotten tears. “Nigga, don’t play with me right now.”

A small smirk threatened to curve the ends of Shuri’s lips upward. She used one hand to support her weight on the bed and the other to push Riri’s kinky curls away from her face.

Riri was getting ready to ease into the gentleness of Shuri’s touch when the princess tangled her fingers at Riri’s scalp and pulled hard.

Ri’s head fell back with a sharp tug from Shuri, exposing the entire length of her neck. Her lips parted in shock, and the breath she inhaled had no way to escape with Shuri’s lips so dangerously close to Ri’s ear.

“You got soft while I was away,” Shuri whispered. It was just the two of them in the small room; no one would have heard her.

Riri fixed her mouth to say something smart, but Shuri cut her off. “I missed you.”

It was a sincere moment. Shuri’s voice still hadn’t reached octaves above a whisper, and the look she gave Ri was enough to send a tingle down to her toes.

Shuri hopped from the bed, her hands steady on Riri’s hips before releasing them with a prompt nod. “C’mon. Let’s go get our girl.”

She’d barely made it two steps before Ri’s tiny hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. “Wait,” she called.

Shuri turned, her eyes landing on Riri with the same intensity as before. Her chest caved with each deep breath, and her expression looked pained, scared even.

“We doing this? We getting serious bout each other?”

Shuri truly moved with the grace of a panther, retreating swiftly, encapsulating Riri’s face cupped in her hand.

They were so close they stole each other’s breath. Shuri’s gaze flickered between Riri’s lips and her eyes, not able to decide which was more worthy of her attention.

Riri’s breathing paused altogether at the sound of Shuri’s chuckle ringing in her ears. “We been doing this how many years, Ri?” Riri’s bottom lip tucked into her mouth clenched between her rows of perfect teeth.

Shuri tutted quietly, using her thumb to roll Riri’s lip back out.

She didn’t move her finger nor her gaze from Riri’s deep brown lip before she spoke again. “Who’s to say I wasn’t already serious about you?”

The knocking at your door hadn’t subsided, and it was driving you fucking insane. You burrowed further into your comforter, tugging at the heavy blanket until it swallowed you whole.

You made no conscious movements to answer it. Getting up and going to class had exerted all of your remaining energy this past week, and you didn’t have any left to entertain company. You weren’t getting up until tonight when it was required of you.

Maybe whoever it was would take the hint and leave.

They didn’t.

Muffled voices on the other side of the door were your only warning before it opened so harshly that the handle indented into its adjacent wall.

Your body shot straight up, speechless. The blanket fell, pooling at your hips, and your eyes widened three sizes.

Riri’s footsteps were nearly silent as she strolled in, hands in her pocket, with a stoic expression.

Shuri stepped in behind her, and your already large eyes grew to the size of saucers. Hers were glued on you, noticing the way they sparkled at the sight of her.

The steps she took toward you were timid, and your breath collected in your chest the entire time it took her to cross the small room.

“Sthandwa,” she spoke directly toward you, her native tongue sounding so much stronger after the time she spent home.

The tiniest whimper escaped your lips, and the irritation on Shuri’s face was wiped away with a smirk. Her hand made its way to your face, cupping your cheek and smiling even wider when you fell into her touch.

“You missed me,” Her words were low, for your ears only.

The moment that passed was a shared one, just between you and Shuri.

You almost nodded, admitting how badly you had missed her.

And then your eyes closed.

And you remembered why you’d put yourself through a week of hell.

You remembered why you were avoiding Riri, ignoring Shuri.

You remembered why you were going out tonight with someone who wasn’t them.

And what was a soft smile on your face curled into the nastiest of snarls.

Your body straightened, pulling your head from Shuri’s hand and retreating until your back touched the wall, and a mountain of pillows distanced you from the princess.

Her demeanor just about crumbled when your eyes cut sharply from her and landed on Riri, who still stood a couple of feet away with an unreadable expression etched across her features.

“Y’all broke into my room?”

It was more an accusation than a question, and it oozed with venom. Shuri fought back a flinch, and Riri dug her hand from her pocket, revealing a gold key swinging from her index finger.

“Not breaking in if I have the spare.”

“It’s breaking in if you weren’t invited.”

Riri tossed her hand back in her pocket and joined Shuri beside your bed, leaning forward until her elbows dug into the mattress. “We ain’ come here to argue with you, y/n.”

Ri had spoken your name more times lately than she had all the months you’d been together, and you hated it. The hairs on your arm stood on end, and your vision turned blood red.

“Shouldn’t have come at all-”

Shuri’s hand around your neck evaporated whatever else was about to roll off your tongue. You begrudgingly focused your gaze on her, shocked to see amusement swimming in her eyes. “Who are you talking to like that?”

Your lips remained sealed in defiance, and Riri shook her head with a scoff directed towards you.

Shuri’s fingertips were digging into the side of your throat, tugging you toward her. It was a gentler touch at first, but then you had to be hard-headed and try to fight it. Her hands gripped tighter, pulling you harder, and the dark spots that started to attack your vision told you to obey.

You fell on all fours, staring up at Shuri behind lashes so long, they almost touched your brows. She removed her hand, allowing air to reach your lungs again, cursing under her breath.

“Fuck,” she breathed out. Even Riri had to bury her bottom lip between her teeth to avoid speaking her thoughts aloud.

You looked fucking delicious, seated on hands and knees, glaring up at them. Heat burned deep in Shuri’s chest, heaving with deep inhales. “Come here,” she commanded.

Shuri’s tone left no room for attitude, but that didn’t stop you from having one. Your eyes rolled, and your knees planted in place with a wiggle of your hips.

Even Riri’s brow rose at the action, and she turned to Shuri with a question behind her eyes.

Shuri’s glance at Ri was quick and filled with an unfamiliar husk. She looked back at you, speaking to Riri while her eyes burned such heat into yours that you had to look away. “She wanna be a brat? That’s fine-” The smile that Shuri bore filled your stomach with fear. “We can tame a brat.”

She opened her mouth again, this time to speak to you. “Come. Here.” Her words sent a noticeable chill through your body, and you rose to just your knees, getting ready to swing your legs around and scoot to the edge of the bed, where Shuri and Riri stood.

“Uh, uh,” Shuri shook her head at you, smiling wider at the confusion on your face. She stood taller, shoulders back, spine straight, chin tilted, truly like royalty. “Crawl to me.”

This time, it was your brows that shot to your hairline. The heat that was burning in her belly moved south, and with a gulp, you found yourself crawling, slowly and seductively, until you were face-to-face with Shuri’s torso.

You stared at it for a moment too long, and she fell into a squat, aligning her face with yours. She was so close, the smell of her cologne almost bringing tears to your eyes. You inhaled deeply, wishing you could commit the scent to memory for the next time Shuri left.

“What’s wrong with you, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Hm? Why you acting like this?”

You were still.

A minute passed, then another, and you refused to part your lips and address her.

“Silent treatment, baby? Forreal?”

The room was quiet.

“You being childish,” Shuri mumbled, standing to her full height again.

She moved to sit beside you, and you watched with interest.

With swift movements, Shuri was next to you, reaching for your wrists.

It all happened so quickly, her tugging your arms sharply until you laid on your belly across her lap. You gasped, further pressing your torso into Shuri’s thighs.

One hand held your wrists out in front of you as though you were swimming while the other caressed your ass through your shorts.

Her touch was too soft, a stark contrast to the rest of her movements. You made the mistake of relaxing in her grasp, allowing your guard and attitude to fall completely.

Poor you.

A sharp slap sounded throughout the room, followed by the sharp sting that radiated through your right ass cheek. And just as quickly as the strike came, it went, covered by Shuri’s soft massage.

The way your mout h fell open to form a little “O” was so cute. Shock, and anger, and desire all fueled the fire that was burning in your lower belly, igniting and growing it further.

“We gonna work on you and Riri’s ‘Welcome’ next time, baby” Another harsh slap, this time to the opposite cheek.

Riri spoke up, her voice sounding like a squeak. “You could always take us with you next time.” She barely got the sentence out without a moan escaping. Her eyes bore into the scene before her, wanting so badly to rub away the pain Shuri was inflicting.

Shuri smirked at Ri before turning back to land another hard clap on your ass. “What you think, baby? Wanna come with me?”

Her words and her actions weren’t lining up. The way she spoke to you was so tender, as though the three of you sat in a coffee shop having a pleasant conversation.

The way she assaulted your ass said otherwise. You were writhing under her touch, with a wetness that pooled between your clenched thighs uncomfortably.

Another slap, then she continued. “We spend weeks together, relaxing by the water. I could take you on the Royal Talon Fighter. Fuck you right on the floor while we’re in the air”.

Another slap. “Riri fingering you in the pool.”

Slap. “I’ll sit you on my throne, where you belong, and eat you until you cry.”

Slap. “Sound like a plan, Ri?”

Riri was in a fucking daze. She could smell your arousal, and it was so hard to resist planting her face between your legs, inhaling your scent deeper. She struggled to mutter so much as a “yeah” in response to Shuri’s question. She wasn’t even sure she’d been listening.

Shuri’s attention fell back to you, and a deep groan escaped her chest. You were a mess. She could feel how hot your body had grown in the short time you’d been pressed against her. You were still quiet, but her ears picked up on the soft whimpers that you thought no one could hear. Your body was practically vibrating.

An insatiable need swam in your eyes, falling over your cheeks and down the side of Shuri’s leg.

“That sound like a plan, baby?”

You remained quiet, the sound of her hand clapping your ass echoing in the room.

“I don’t like being ignored, y/n.” Shuri must’ve lost her mind and left it in Wakanda, using your real name like that. It just made you dig your heels in further, refusing to give her a verbal response.

She shook her head, turning to Riri to speak again. “I been gone three weeks, and you let her get all defiant and shit.”

Riri snapped out of her trance at the accusation. “I ain’ let her do shit-”

“You did,” Shuri removed her hand from your ass to point toward your nightstand. “Grab her vibrator from the drawer and come fix your shit.”

Your head shot up at Shuri’s words. A part of you was relieved the attack on your now swollen ass cheeks had stopped. The other part was full of dread. You needed to fucking come, but there was no way Shuri was going to make it that easy on you.

She lifted your limp body with ease, shuffling around until you were in her lap, back pressed to her heaving chest. You winced a bit at the stinging sensation that traveled down the back of your thighs, but Shuri’s padded fingertips drawing circles in your abdomen was enough of a distraction for you to relax a bit.

Her lips peppered up and down the length of your neck, stopping every now and then to nip at your tight skin. “Imma hear that pretty voice one way or another, baby.”

She grinned at the shiver her words sent down your spine and lifted her head to see Riri starting back toward your bed with your massive pink wand in hand. Your knees lifted to your chest without thought, and Shuri planted her hands on them, prying them apart until the wet spot in your shorts was visible to Ri.

Her breasts bounced with the way her chest heaved at the sight. Your grey shorts were noticeably darker around the spot that bore your cunt, and your dark thighs glittered with your own slick.

The sudden cool air that hit your pussy shocked you, and your thighs clenched, trying to close in response. They barely moved with Shuri’s hands in place.

She didn’t even acknowledge your failed attempt, instead nodding her head at Riri. The smaller girl looked as though it pained her to look away from you, and it did.

“What?”

“Come here.” Riri glanced over you one more time, then started stepping closer to the bed. Shuri ducked her head, taking your ear lobe between her teeth before speaking lowly. “See how she listen the first time?”

Riri rolled her eyes but climbed onto the bed anyway, kneeling beside you and Shuri’s bodies flush against one another. “What?” she asked again.

Shuri let go of your thighs, snaking an arm around your torso to hold you in place while the other tugged on Riri’s curls, luring her closer and closer and closer until she and Shuri’s breaths became one.

Shuri leaned up, pressing her lips against Riri’s with a moan. The delicacy of the kiss didn’t last long, and the strain in your neck as you turned and watched them wasn’t enough to peel your eyes away.

Riri’s tongue darted out first, sloppily tracing over Shuri’s before she reached to grasp the back of her head and deepen the kiss.

Your moan at the sight was music to their ears, and Riri pulled away, gracing you with a smile before Shuri’s hand on her chin pulled her back. Shuri’s lips brushed Ri’s as she whispered, “I ain’ get to kiss you properly since I been back.” She let her gaze linger on you with a side-eye before she turned back to Riri. “We had other things to deal with.”

Riri’s nose scrunched up, her curls swaying to and fro with the shake of her head. “And I’m the one who got soft?” she asked with a scoff.

Shuri ignored Ri. “Lemme taste her off your lips when you finish.”

Riri’s stare at you was hungry. She hadn’t had a taste of you in so long. Her mouth watered, and her tongue swiped across her lips, leaving behind a sheen. “I’ll think about it,” she mumbled, hopping from the bed.

With the click of a button, your vibrator roared to life, and the whimper that left your mouth was pathetic. Riri stood patiently waiting while Shuri pulled your legs apart once more. Her hands on you felt like fire, and your head fell back onto your shoulder. Her chuckle rang loudly in your ear. “We ain’ even touch you yet.”

But then Riri’s hand grazed your thigh, only enough to pull your shorts to one side and expose your needy center. “Oh, baby, you’re fucking soaked.”

Your hips jutted forward, an impatient exhale sharp in your chest. You knew you were soaked; you needed them to do something about it.

Riri’s delicate fingers brushed over your lower set of lips before stopping to gently slap it a few times. You splashed around her harsh hits, hissing and curving your hips, hoping to catch her fingers at your entrance.

Mm, Riri hummed. “This ain’ enough.” She nodded to Shuri, “Lift her legs up.”

Shuri’s hands went from your inner thigh to hooking underneath, folding you in half. Your knees almost aligned with your shoulders, and Riri nodded, satisfied. “There she go. All on display for me.”

She brought the vibrator to your clit without warning, and you screamed. “There go that pretty voice, too,” Shuri stated, levity and lust dripping from her accented words.

You didn’t have the strength to stay silent anymore. Riri had the violently vibrating toy pressed hard against your swollen bud, and she made no move to let up. Your cunt splashed around the rapid movements, and you knew your orgasm would come fast and hard.

“So pretty,” Riri parroted lazily. The wetness between her own legs was growing uncomfortable, but her focus right now was wholeheartedly on you.

Your pussy clenched around nothing, and your head dug into Shuri’s shoulder with a dull pain that would become prominent later. “Oh, fuck,” you breathed out, repeating the phrase like a broken record.

This time, it was Shuri and Riri who were quiet, listening intently to your voice and the way its crescendo was built.

Your chest heaved, and your abs contracted, and you could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, shit, shit-”

And then it was gone. The vibrations stopped, and the glorious orgasm that was about to wreck you washed away. A desperate cry fell from your lips, your glossed eyes staring up at Riri with so many questions.

“Nah, ma. That was the lowest setting.” She bent down to kiss your cheek. “You don’t gotta come yet.”

Your head shook so fast, it made you dizzy. “I do, I do.”

“Oh, you do?” She was mocking you. Your mouth opened with a smart-ass response that was quickly forgotten when stronger, harsher movements attacked your clit.

Riri had turned the intensity up, and the vibrations were radiating through your abdomen and your thighs. Your head fell back once more; your jaw stuck slack. “Oh fuck,” you roared. There was no way the people minding their business in the halls weren’t hearing you, but Bast, did you not give a fuck.

“Fuck, Ri, fuck,” you drawled out with a whimper. Her name had fallen from your lips with ease, and both the girls focused on you moved quickly to correct that.

Shuri’s hand roughly grabbed a handful of your braids and pushed your head forward at the same time that Riri pulled it forward with her hand on your chin. She hit the button on the vibrator, and the intensity increased once more.

Their hands on you wouldn’t allow your head to fall. The spew of screams and curses uttered from your mouth while Riri’s eyes dug into yours as if she could see past them. “Yeah, let’s try that again, baby girl.”

Up another setting the vibrator went, and the cry that came from you sounded like that of a wounded animal. “What’s my name?” Riri asked with all the sass in the world, watching you with stern eyes.

You didn’t answer, too afraid you’d say the wrong thing. There wasn’t a sane thought in that pretty brain of yours right now, and though you searched and searched, your own name didn’t even come to mind at the moment.

The intensity climbed higher and higher until Riri hitting the button was mundane. The vibrator was on the highest possible setting, and she was proud of you for handling it.

Your orgasm didn’t creep back on you with ease; it was about to hit you like a train. Your splashing grew, throwing your slick on all three of you. Your stomach was so tight, you were sure you’d have a six-pack after this, and your body shook like you were possessed.

Your head was still aligned with Ri’s, but your eyes were long gone, rolled back into your skull. A quick tap at your cheek pulled them back, and you stared at Riri, taking in her tiny frame, covered in sweat (or was that your cum?), with a look so sharp, it cut your gasp short.

“My name, baby,” she growled out at you, but it was too late. You were coming, soaking the sheets beneath you and Shuri with a long, drawn-out cry. Your body was trembling, a shaky “Ooh, shit,” the only thing that you could think well enough to say.

Riri held the vibrator flush with your cunt, letting the mix of you squirting and the vibrations splash your taste right to her awaiting tongue.

The moment felt like it lasted forever, and when you finally did start to come down, Riri removed the vibrator from you, turning it off and discarding it on the floor.

Shuri sat whispering something in Xhosa in your ear, tracing lines up and down your still shaky legs.

Your body gave out, relaxing into the curve of Shuri’s before Riri’s tight grip around your throat reawoke reality around you. Her eyes darted around your face, her lips tight, and her brows drawn. She yanked you away from Shuri and closed the space between you and her.

“What is my fucking name?” She questioned harshly. You’d never heard a sound so sinister come from her, and it turned your good mood foul.

“Red,” you spat at her.

In the next instant, her hand released your neck, and she took a step back, eyes still racing, breath still raging.

Shuri removed her hands from your thighs, backing herself into a corner of your bed until she was no longer touching you. “Sana-” she started gently, but you barely heard her.

All of your rage from before was back, and now Riri was the unfortunate target. “That’s not fucking fair, Riri!”

She remained silent tense brows raising as she watched you jump from the bed onto wobbly legs. You stumbled but stood your ground. “Yeah, you’re Riri now.”

She wasn’t deterred when you started toward her, hands drawn in fists at your side and chest poking out. “You been calling me by my government since that night in your dorm room, but it’s a problem when I do it?”

Riri's mouth opened, starting to speak, but the look on your face advised her not to. “It’s always a fucking problem when I do it, huh?” You were in her face at this point, and she could see the tears glistening behind the anger in your eyes.

“You two ignore me for a fucking week until I say okay to the whole damn world know I got not one, but two ‘girlfriends.’” Your hands uncurl to throw air quotes around “girlfriends.” A grizzly laugh escapes your lips, and the tears start to fall.

“But they not even my girlfriends. I-” Your voice broke, and so did the girls’ hearts. “I ain’ nothing but one of many to them.” You sniff before continuing. “And when I try to get a week to figure that shit out, to process it, you break into my fucking room!”

“You break in and fuck my fucking brains out.” Your hands are shaking as they reach up to wipe away the steady stream of tears. “But you gonna leave here and give the same thing to who the fuck ever.”

Riri’s silence is starting to irritate you, so you direct the rest of your wrath to the princess. The pillow on your desk chair flies toward her, landing with a thud, and you wish you had the balls to throw something heavier. “And you-”

Shuri watches you cross the room toward her, stopping just short of the bed. “You got me out here looking fucking stupid!” Snot and spit mix with your tears in what you only know as the definition of ugly crying, but you do not fucking care.

“You got a harem, Shuri? Hm?”

“No-” Her words were drowned under yours.

“Kehlani, nigga? I can’t-” Your voice cracked further. “I can’t fucking compete with Kehlani. I can’t even compete with the other girls on campus, can I?” You whispered.

Your hand flew to point at Riri, and she flinched, certain that you’d just flung something in her direction. “She the only one who don’t got any competition. It’s always been Ri and Shuri.” You chuckle again. “Y’know what she told me?” Your laughter grew until you were hiccuping behind giggles and sobs. “When I was in her room upset about the viral video of my ‘girlfriend’ dry humping somebody else in the club? She kept saying ‘Me and Shuri’ this and ‘Me and Shuri’ that.”

You looked back toward Riri. The venom in you had run dry, and all that was left behind was sadness. “‘Me and Shuri ain’ never been exclusive’” You took her words and threw them back at her; it was the worst thing you could’ve thrown.

“‘Shuri catching ass, getting ass; those are just her weekends,’” you repeated what Riri had said to you with bile in your throat. “She laughed about it.”

Shuri’s eyes darted towards Riri, who looked as though she were about to crumble to the floor.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at either of them any longer. “Get out,” you whispered.

Shuri rose from your bed, taking tender steps toward you as if you would explode if she were to move any faster. “Baby, I- We-”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes until they were red. “There it go again; ‘we’. ‘We’ is not Shuri, Riri, and me. ‘We’ is Shuri and Riri. It’s always Shuri and Riri.” You shook your head, your braids swinging around you. “I’m not doing this no more. Get out.”

Your voice was eerily calm. As though you were making small talk about the weather and not breaking their hearts.

“No-” Shuri spoke again. “Baby, listen-”

You glanced at the clock above Riri’s head, avoiding looking at her altogether. “Get. Out.” You emphasized, stalking past them both until you were entering your bathroom and starting the shower. “I need to start getting ready. Thanks for ruining my nap.”

“Getting ready for what?”

You looked at Shuri deliberately as the next words from your mouth rang through the air. “I have a date.”

“Like hell you do.”

Both of your heads whipped to Riri standing on the other side of the room. Your confession had broken her trance, and she approached you quickly, grabbing for your hand.

“I do,” You snatched away from her touch roughly. “And I need to wash you off me. Both of you.”

“Y/n, you play too fucking much-”

Your neck snapped toward Riri. She didn’t back down when a scoff fell from your lips, and you walked to her until your chests were touching, and she had no choice but to look up at you.

Sadness still decorated your pretty brown eyes, but Riri was more focused on the growl deep in your voice. “What’s the matter, Ri?” You darted your gaze back to the clock once more. “Your eight o’clock cancel on you?”

Your hair whips her in the face as you turn back to Shuri. “Kehlani couldn’t make it?”

Neither of them speaks, just watching you head back to your bathroom door. “I’m getting in the shower,” you announce. “Can’t have all this dried cum on me.” The door starts to close, but not before they hear the last of your sentence. “He might want a fresh slate.”

Riri sat in the VIP box of a club she did not want to fucking be in, nursing a glass of rum that she was barely sipping on. Anger on a sober Riri was enough to land her in jail; she didn’t need to be drunk tonight.

Shuri sat across from her, eyes scanning the crowd below them as she threw back another shot, growling with the burn cascading down her throat.

She lifted a hand to fix the blazer on her shoulder before looking over to notice Riri had abandoned hers. A dark, lacey fabric clung to Riri’s bosom like a second skin, and Shuri gulped before turning away again.

“Why are we even here, Ri? She said she was done.”

Riri’s eye-roll was almost audible. “You wasn’t saying shit when you snuck the Kimoyo bead in her purse.” She brought the cup to her lips again, allowing the sour liquor to run over her tongue before swallowing it harshly. “Ion give a fuck what she said. She’s not done; she’s ours.”

They watched you with fury burning behind their gazes as you gyrated in a crowd full of people. Shuri had to convince Riri to remain glued to her seat when your dress rode up a bit, and luckily, you’d pulled it down before Riri had a chance to expose that she and Shuri were spying on you.

They were just there to make sure your date was respectful. You could have this cute lil date, even if it boiled their blood. They’d make sure your clothes stayed on, and you got home safe, and then try talking to you again tomorrow. Or the day after that, or the day after that.

Except, Riri was finding it really hard to stay under the radar. Every time your date slipped his hands around your waist or brought his face a little too close to yours, her feet begged her to move, her fist itching to hit him.

Him. Of all the ways you could have chosen to spite them, this was by far the fucking worse.

You’d never shown interest in a dick, yet here you were, grinding up against one.

Shuri wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She struggled to read your lips from up here when you brought them to his ear to whisper something or when they spread into a grin. The glass cup in her hand was in danger of breaking; Shuri’s grip just kept getting tighter and tighter.

And even though you weren’t dancing for them, they were mesmerized by you. Your hair was gathered into a high pony, your eyeliner deep and dark, accentuating your big, round eyes. The dress you chose was sinful. It stopped just under the curve of your ass, exposing the length of your thick thighs for him to touch. Had it been any tighter, your breasts would have spilled right out of the deep plunge that reached your belly button; instead, they sat high and (mostly) covered, aside from your pierced nippled poking through the thin fabric.

Riri had groaned when you first walked in, and that quickly turned into a growl when she noticed the nigga’s hand resting on your hip.

That was nearly two hours ago, and her expression had yet to change.

“You don’t wanna chop his hands off?” she asked Shuri over the rim of her glass.

“Of course, I do, sana-”

“Good, then go do it.”

Shuri sighed, putting her drink down and peering over the railing back down at you. Your ass was rolling into the curve of his front, and he was enjoying every bit of it, with one hand on your hip and the other gathered in your hair. “I’m considering it.”

Riri was about to comment when her body ran cold. A slow song rang through the speakers, something much more sensual than the ass-shaking anthem that was playing before. Her eyes ran back to you, and she watched, frozen.

You’d stood back up to your full height, turning to face him with your arms thrown around his neck.

Your bodies ground together in sync with the rhythm of the music, and Riri’s mouth fell open when your head fell back with a moan, and he leaned down to kiss your throat.

She was already on her feet by the time he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as he practically fucked you through your clothes on the dance floor. The angle put your left breast in danger of being exposed and Ri could see the dark swirl of your areola bouncing free.

“Fuck no.” Riri was gone, and Shuri wasn’t too far behind her. They pushed through the crowd, ignoring protests coming from every which way. Ri’s vision was blood-shot, her body shaking with rage.

Her fist was already formed and she stalked toward you, on a mission. Shuri’s voice in her ear caused the smaller girl to stumble. “Do not hit him,” she commanded with a growl.

Riri reached you first, uncurling her fist and reaching up to snatch you by your hair, breaking the now deepened kiss between you and him. Shuri followed closely behind, nearly clipping your heels and already digging her keys from her pockets.

He stood there stunned as you were pulled away and lead through the front doors without anyone so much as glancing your way. Ri took her hands from your hair and put them around your hips, lifting and flinging you into the backseat of Shuri’s SUV. She hopped in behind you, and Shuri jumped into the driver's seat, pulling off with a loud skid as her tires kissed the pavement.

Riri was livid, shaking in her nearly naked form, and it pissed her off even more to see the smugness that was embedded into your features. Her intentions weren’t to scare you but the fact that you didn’t even show an ounce of fright enraged her.

“Breaking and entering and kidnapping on the same day? Must not be the first crime the two of you have-”

Riri’s hand was around your throat before you could finish your sentence, pressing your body harshly into the leather seats until your head bounced against the headrest, locking you in place.

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” she hurled at you. Your pompous attitude was gone, and fear danced in your gaze. You’d never seen Riri so angry; you didn’t know lividity was a feeling she was capable of.

She didn’t give you a chance to speak, staring at your lips in disgust before she continued. “I hope you happy, baby, because you just cost that man his life.”

Your eyes widened further with horror, and Shuri called out Riri’s name in warning.

Ri scoffed. “Oh, I don’t gotta do shit,” her grip tightened. “Wakanda got a whole ass army who would kill to protect you.”

Alarm bells were ringing in your head and your vision was starting to blur with the lack of oxygen your brain was receiving. You knew you shouldn’t push Riri any further, but the words were out without a second thought.

“They kill for all your hoes?”

Shuri’s foot came down hard on the brakes, and you and Riri jerked forward, but her eyes never left your face. All around you, horns blarred angrily with the Princess’s driving and you could see the swing of headlights from behind as they swerved to avoid ramming into the back of it, but Shuri continued as if she didn’t almost cause the world’s biggest traffic accident.

“You fucking-” Riri’s lips curled. “There are no hoes, y/n. It’s just you, only you.”

She turned to look out the window, seemingly analyzing your surroundings, then spoke to Shuri, “Go to my garage.”

The only response she got back was a silent nod, which she ignored anyway. Riri looked hard at your face, glancing back and forth between your lips and your eyes. “Lick your lips,” she commands.

You do as you’re told, surprisingly, and dart your tongue out to swipe over your lips once, twice, three times. Riri groans at the way they shine once you finish, wet with your spit. “They taste like him?”

Shuri watches through the rearview mirror as you hesitate, then nod. Riri crashes her lips into yours in a harsh kiss. She wants to wipe away any trace of him, any taste, any memory, any thought. She swallows your tongue, moaning as you swap spit, and you bring your arms around her neck to pull her closer.

Riri resists, though, drawing her body back and creating an unwanted distance between the two of you. “What about now?” She asks through pants. “They still taste like him?”

You lick your lips slowly, savoring the taste. Your head shakes from side to side.

“Who they taste like?” She demands.

“You,” you reply breathily.

Before Riri has a chance to respond, the car comes to a stop, and Shuri cuts the engine off. You look around, recognizing the alley that leads to the back entrance of Riri’s garage.

Shuri hops out of the car first, walking around to open your door and offer her hand to help you.

Riri’s already out of the car, walking over to unlock the well-secured garage and stepping inside the darkness.

She swipes a bunch of papers off the thrifted couch that sits next to her desk, and they flutter to the floor like snowflakes.

She pushes you into the cushions, watching your body land with a bounce that exposes your right breast in all its pierced glory.

Riri’s stare at you is lustful and rageful, shaking her with an unusual intensity. Shuri stands beside her, both of them glaring at you, but neither of them moving.

It isn’t until Riri breaks the trance, shaking her head and walking away. “Handle her, man. I need to calm down some before I touch her.”

Now you and Shuri watch as Riri retreats, guilt building up in your little body. You turn back to see Shuri approaching you, unbuttoning her blazer until it swings open. She stops in front of you, fingers toying with the spaghetti straps of your dress. “He touched this,” she states simply.

You nod, “Shuri, I-”

The sound of ripping fabric echoes off the metal walls, and you look down to see Shuri’s torn your dress straight down the plunge.

You can only muster out a pathetic squeak at the sight of what was your favorite dress. Shuri is so close when you look up that you almost headbutt her.

“What is my name?” She growls, accentuating every word.

“D-daddy-” you manage to stutter out.

Mm, she hums, and you shrink into yourself. No ‘good girl’ or praise. Just a hum.

You hadn’t really deserved the praise lately, though.

Her head buried in your neck pulls you away from your thoughts. The feel of her lips and her tongue traveling along the softness of your skin causes your head to lazily tilt to the side, giving her more access.

Her finger juts out to point in the direction Riri wandered in. “And you are hers,” she says with such a harsh bite that you cry out.

She licks away the pain a moment later, “And you are mine.”

Shuri reaches down to pull the shredded dress away from your body and starts kissing down the length of your collarbone. “I’m sorry that video upset you.” She emphasizes each word with a kiss. “And I’m more sorry that my actions upset you.”

Her kisses trail to the valley between your breasts, and your fingers find her curls tangling in them and pressing her closer. “But I am all about you, baby.”

Her kissing stops as she spots your underwear. It’s nothing but a black piece of string tied around your hips and thighs. The thinnest fabric in the world barely covers both your lips down there, and even now, it’s twisted to the point where your slit swallows it.

“You wore these for him?”

You shake your head, missing the feel of her lips on your skin already. “Wore them for you; knew you were there.”

“How-” Shuri starts.

“Your bead. Found it in my purse before I even left the dorm. Spotted the two of you a few minutes after we got to the club-”

Her face twists into an unreadable expression. “You knew we were there and gave us a good ole’ show, baby?”

Your cheeks grow hot, and Shuri shakes her head. “You really were trying to get that man killed.”

She lets her hand trail down your thigh, stopping at the crevice where they meet. You're already so wet, your little cunt drenching your sorry excuse of panties.

One harsh tug, and those too, are nothing but shredded fabric.

The only part of your outfit that isn’t torn and tattered are your heels and when you ask Shuri if she’s gonna go for those next, she ignores you.

“You owe me new clothes,” you grumble under her attack of kisses on your thigh. You whine when she pulls away, sitting up enough that your gazes are aligned.

“I don’t owe you shit but an apology.” Her slender fingers run down the length of your slit, coming back up dripping in your essence. You’re hypnotized, watching in fascination and lust as she brings them to her lips, licking them clean of you and groaning at the taste. “But I’d buy you a closet full of clothes if you asked me to.”

Your thighs part and her head descends between them, licking up the wetness that coats them. “And no,” she says with a breathy moan to your twitchy clit. “I don’t do that for all my hoes.”

And with that, her tongue attacks you. There's nothing but a sense of urgency in the air as Shuri laps at you as if the taste would disappear if she didn’t appreciate it enough. Your moans ring through the garage, loud and echoing.

Shuri’s tongue on your clit is merciless, swiping and sucking. She dips lower, licking a fat, long strip up your slit and her moans tickle you from the inside out. Your thighs on her shoulder are clenched tight around her head, but she couldn’t care less.

You taste like heaven and Shuri never believed in such a place before you. Her tongue stiffens, and then, it’s in your cunt, fucking you feverishly. Your eyes roll and you’re trying so hard to keep them on Shuri.

The sight of her fucking your pussy, drowning in it, is one the tabloids would have never been able to imagine. If they thought an ass-catching princess was scandalous, they’d drop dead at the sight of this.

Movement from the corner of your eyes catches your attention, and it takes all your strength to pull it away from Shuri long enough to notice Ri in the corner, back pressed against the wall, arms crossed in front of her.

Your eyes lock, and you stare at Ri as you pant and groan, as if they were directed towards her. And maybe they were. She shifts uncomfortably at the sounds you make, reaching around to adjust something in her, now unbuttoned pants, but before you have time to question it, Shuri’s tongue in your pussy is replaced by two fingers.

They stretch you out deliciously, and she pulls her head away to admire the way you clench around her. “Demethi, nkosazana,” she mumbles under her breath.

You’d heard her speak enough Xhosa over the years to be able to translate that one. “I’m the princess now?” you stumble and stutter through the question and a red-hot fury makes itself known in your belly with the way she curved her fingers and looks up at you. “My princess,” she responds.

Suddenly, her fingers pick up speed, and she’s added a third, scissoring into you and grinning at the way you stretch around her. “Good girl,” she praises. “Good girl, go ahead and open up for me, hm?”

Ugh, they way they talked to you during sex.. Their words were fucking filthy and the moment they opened their mouths, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

This time was no different. You had been so focused on Shuri, that you didn’t notice Riri stalking toward you.

Shuri noticed, but she was intent on making you come apart before she handed you over. The taste of you was still on her tongue and she signaled Riri to ‘come here’ with a curled finger, while the other mirrored the action deep within your walls.

Riri headed over to Shuri, and upon reaching her, took her chin and tilted it upwards so she could capture her lips in a kiss. You watched as they shared your taste between the two of them, moaning at the sight.

Shuri pulled away first, feeling the way your walls began to swell around her hand. Your orgasm was coming (pun intended), and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on them, you couldn’t. Your head fell back, and your eyes shut so tightly, they were just slits.

Riri just stood and watched, hands tucked in her pockets, and Shuri sang you praises.

“There you go, baby. Let it out.”

You began to splash around her fingers.

“Good girl, nkosazana yam, keep going.”

Your wetness had picked up, as did your cries. Shuri’s forearm was soaked, along with the front of her blazer.

“I’m- fuck! I’m com-” Your sentence was nothing but fragments, but Shuri understood it perfectly well.

“I know baby, come for me,” she cooed. “Umhle kakhulu (So pretty).”

You were already in the midst of coming apart, and Shuri’s fingers didn’t let up, fucking you through your climax. It was such an intense feeling. You felt so full, like the pressure was too much, but Bast, it was so delicious, you didn’t want her to stop.

You wanted your orgasm to keep coming so Shuri’s fingers never left. Unfortunately for you, your well began to run dry and your screams died down to panting breaths. Shuri’s hand slipped out of you with a loud squelch and she lifted them so you could see how much of you was actively dripping from her digits. “Messy girl,” she stated cooly, rising to her feet and taking a step back.

Your thighs were still sky-high and your breathing hadn’t quite leveled out before Riri stepped to where Shuri once stood. She reached into her pants, pulling out a dildo you’d never seen before already strapped to her hilt.

It was made of vibranium, that much was obvious with the deep purple glow. Most of the toys the three of you used were, but this one was different. First of all, it was thick. Fuck the fact that it was already a good 8 or 9 inches long, it wasn’t much smaller than the width of a fucking soda can and you could hear a slight buzzing come from it.

The look on Riri’s face gave away the surprise. It was vibrating, harshly against her clit and when she pressed the tip to your slit, you could feel the vibrations on your end too.

Fuck, she was about to tear you apart.

“You seemed to have wanted dick so damn bad tonight, baby,” her words were still angry as she pushed into you at a snail’s pace.

The stretch was too much, but it felt so fucking good. Your cunt swallowed every inch of her, pulling her in further.

She could feel just how wet you were, how tight you were, having just come. The way you clenched around her almost knocked the wind from her little body, and she had to will herself to take it slow.

“Shit, baby,” she hissed, eyes closed, breathing staggered.

“Riri-” Shuri’s voice sounded out from somewhere in the room, but you were too focused on Ri to search for it.

“What?” She sounded like she was in pain, and still, she wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Fuck her.”

Riri opened her eyes, burning a hole through yours. Her hips shifted, and she was in you even deeper. “No shit. I ain’ taking orders from you right now,” she growled lowly.

The only warning you got before she buried her entire cock into you was a hand on your hip as she steadied herself. Your scream rang through the room in agony and Ri’s moans harmonized with yours.

The two of you sat, stuck for a moment as she took a few deep breaths, allowing you to adjust.

And then she pulled out, leaving you feeling hollow. The feeling didn’t last long because she thrust back into you, this time much easier than the first.

“Fuck,” you cried, and she did it again, and again, and again, until she’d picked up a steady pace.

Sweat poured down her forehead as she fucked you with the restraint of a fucking God. You were so tight, so wet, so warm. A week was much too long to go without being buried in your cunt and the fact that you’d almost willingly given it to a nigga earlier that night angered her.

Her movements were harsh and rough, and so good. This wasn’t love making, it was fucking.

The kind that sent a tingle to your toes and arched your back to extremes that you didn’t know you were capable of. It was the type that warranted multiple orgasms and the first one ripped through you with a vengeance.

Riri felt it; she felt the way you clenched around her and how your screams pierced the air. She could feel your slick collecting on the pants that she hadn’t bothered to pull all the way down before taking you.

And she didn’t let up. No recovery time this time around. She fucked you through that first orgasm and continued fucking you toward the second.

Your legs clamed around her waist and your arms trapped her face right in front of yours. You could inhale her pants as she dug into you, reciting elements on the periodic table so she didn’t come before she wanted to.

“You been playing games with me, baby,” she whispered to you through her thrusts.

You were too dick-crazed to fully process her sentence at first, but once you did, you responded, “No different than the games you and Shuri been playing.” You sounded like a drunk, but Riri understood every bit of what you said.

Your eyes wandered, rolling back as that second orgasm approached.

“Look at me, baby,” Riri commanded, and she smiled when you obeyed, locking your lust-blown eyes on hers. “There ain’ nobody else, okay?” Her forehead pressed to yours. “I ain’ fucking nobody else like this.” At that, her hips curved and her cock hit the spongy part of your cunt that was the only thing responsible for holding your orgasm at bay.

The second one rolled through you, yet Riri continued as if it hadn’t. She groaned, listening to you moan right in her ear. “That pretty sound right there, fuck. I wanna hear that shit for the rest of my life.” She couldn’t hold back any longer. She was about to come.

Her thrusts slowed and she shuddered, sinking into the suppleness of your touch as your legs kept her buried in your cunt and your nails dug into her back, scratching hard enough to draw little beads of blood.

Shapes, letters, she didn’t know what you were etching into her skin, and it didn’t matter. She groaned, legs shaking as she struggled to stay on them.

Your lip rolled into your mouth at the feel of Riri’s warmth on your inner thighs. “That’s it,” you muttered, low enough for just her to hear. “Come on me, ma.”

Neither of you knew who’s come was who’s on your thighs and neither of you cared. Riri fell apart in your arms, finally coming down long enough to press your lips together in a kiss that was much softer than her thrusts had been.

“You’re mine,” she said against your mouth. “You’re barely hers-” she pointed back at Shuri and wrapped both arms around your middle to press you further against her, as if your bodies could fuse and become one. “Because you are all fucking mine,” she growled and you smiled at her words.

Shuri walked over, slapping her palm against Riri’s ass with a warning. “Watch yourself.” Her head tilted, focusing on Riri’s back and your smile morphed into laughter. Shuri copied you with a chuckle. “Did you write your name in her back, baby?”

You nodded, still laughing, feeling gleeful for the first time in days. “I did,” you stated proudly.

Shuri chuckled again, shaking her head before eying you. “It’s sideways.”

You shrugged, “It’s there.”

“Well,” Shuri declared, moving her fingers to shake off her blazer, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes never left yours as she shrugged her shirt over her head. “Guess I need one to match.”

#shuri x reader #riri x reader #black panther #shuriri x reader #riri williams x reader #shuriri #letitia wright shuri #quintessencewrites #shuri smut #riri smut #letitia wright smut #letitia wright #dominique thorne #kehlani

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local-crying-boy · 8 months ago

Text

As If To Turn Back Time

Carlisle Cullen X Female!Reader

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Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader

Genre: One-Shot, fluff, reunion

Warnings: literally just ignoring Carlisle’s backstory a bit cause I’m too stupid to understand dates and such, failed attempt at me writing people talking from the 1600s with only Bridgeton as a guide

Summary: You and Carlisle met in the 1600s, you had grown close and wanted to come clean to him. However, you had no choice but to leave. The two of you meet years later, Carlisle realising you are a vampire and you discovering that he had turned.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: This poor draft has been sitting in my drafts for way too damn long, so long that you can probably see how my writing style changes half way through :(

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The two of you had often walked long walks during the day, talking about seemingly anything and everything. The conversations never pausing or becoming overbearingly dull, it seemed as if you could talk for hours on end.

You, despite not wanting to, grew close to Carlisle, even starting to be on a first name basis. He had always been gentlemen like and was not like the other men you’d talked to, simply wanting somebody to ‘woo’ and eventually marry.

Of course, you never stayed long enough for engagement to even be considered.

However, you didn’t want to leave this one. He was kind, kind unlike the others. His words were genuine, his smile was not faked nor was it practiced. He didn’t say the things he wanted you to hear, he was true about his thoughts and feelings.

He was as though he was too good to he true.

Carlisle thought this about you too. Kind, genuine, true. However, he was correct about being too good to be true, because you knew you had to leave, to break his heart.

Each evening, after parting ways with the Doctor, you cursed yourself. How could you be so careless with your heart? So quick to fall in love? You would outlive him for God’s sake! You would leave before you even got the chance to tell him you loved him, before he could even realise that you were going to leave.

There was no way to ever have a human and a vampire together, not without the Volturi knowing or without the human dying. Having both end up being dead, Carlisle would be buried and you would have half your heart ripped apart. There was no way to run from this problem. You loved him.

You loved Carlisle Cullen.

On June 2nd, 1661, at 3:26pm on a Tuesday afternoon, you had decided to come clean to Carlisle. He was already beginning to piece together that there was something wrong with you, not eating, ice cold skin, never being out in the sun, so coming clean was not going to be a big deal.

However, when you decided that, you had heard talk of your unusual behaviour and your never aging body. That was when it hit you, you had to leave Carlisle before being truthful to him. There was no time for rushed letters or quick apologies.

And so by the 3rd, on the Wednesday morning, you were already out of London and heading to Scotland where you planned to soon move to… Well, you weren’t too sure. You had planned to go to Scotland, but you knew you most likely had to go further, with all your time spent with Carlisle you didn’t think of where you would go next.

When it hid Midday of the Wednesday you left, Carlisle had gone to the house you were staying at, an old friend of yours. He knocked on the wooden door, expecting you to show up in one of your usual light blue dresses. However, one of the Lady of the house’s maids opened the door.

Confusion had hit Carlisle almost immediately, you were always there to greet him, as if you already knew it was him at the door, “Excuse me, Miss. Is Miss L/n home?”

The brunette woman shook her head slightly, “No, Sir. She left not too long ago, I’m afraid.”

“Do you know when she will return?” Carlisle asked, questions circling around his head, you never mentioned leaving.

Once again, the woman shook her head, “She won’t be returning, Sir. Miss L/n said she was not to return.”

Heartbroken, Carlisle almost forgot how to breathe, “She has left London?”

This time, the woman nodded, “I am afraid so, Sir, she said it was something of last minute arrangements, she was adamant there could be no postponing. She mentioned something about Scotland, or Germany.”

Then, right there and then, Carlisle was certain his heart had broken into a multitude of pieces, never to be pieced together again. Had it been something he’d done? Weren’t the two of you getting along well?

• 1936, Forks, Washington •

Thirst was making your throat burn, making you agitated and irritated. You haven’t been able to slip away and hunt yet, since the work you had was piling up and unavoidable, so you had been pretty much relaying on pure luck that you wouldn’t rip open these people’s throats.

It was tempting. Really, really tempting. Especially since the majority of your co-workers were stuck-up, stubborn, assholes of men who got on your nerves on a daily basis and did not respect women what-so-ever. However, with a seemingly unbearable thirst that made your entire body beg to kill them, it became more easy for your thoughts to drift to murder and made the thirst even more unbearable. Almost as if it would kill you.

If you could get headaches, you were sure you would’ve gotten one from these idiotic people. You watched the time and counted the seconds, hoping that focusing on the time would make the thoughts of their blood fade away into the back if your mind.

You barely made another minute before you abruptly stood from your stool and muttered, “Excuse me for a moment, I feel sick.”

You hastily left before anyone could say anything, then when you exited the building and was out of site, you ran towards the woods in hopes to find literally any animal.

You, centuries ago, decided to feed only on animals after slaughtering a family of four in the late 1500s and going into the early 1600s. The guilt still pulls at you randomly, which is why you started studying sciences, history and art wherever allowed women to have an education.

When you had gone far enough from the town, you tried to find anything. Luckily, there was a deer close, the pure smell of its blood had almost sent you mental.

Without even hesitating, you ran towards the sent, making it run from the loud rustling you caused. However, it didn’t get far because you had mercilessly murdered it and started feeding on it before it even fell to the floor.

You might as well have been a newborn with the way you were acting, impulsive and without a second thought. Well, perhaps this would have been a lesson to regularly feed instead of putting work first.

When you had your fill of the deer, and it was completely drained of its blood, you had stood from your space and simply started walking. You weren’t ready to go back to your workplace, certain that if one of those bastards said something stupid again, you would kill them and probably end up getting hunted by the Volturi from the inevitable frenzy it would send you in.

You had been in the of calming yourself down when you heard the very distant noise of footsteps, fast ones. Panic hit you almost instantly, you hadn’t been aware of other vampires in Forks.

Listening attentively, you prepared yourself for a fight. Often, vampires were somewhat territorial, if you’d accidentally wondered onto another’s land, you were expecting a fight. Usually, you were always aware if there were other vampires. However, clearly, you were not as careful this time.

However, you became terrified when you started hearing four pairs of footsteps. You definitely couldn’t fight four vampires, not by yourself anyway. Sure, your ability was good, but it took a lot of effort to hypnotise one person - let alone four.

Wiping the small specs of blood from your mouth, you spun your head around, scanning your surroundings. They were definitely getting closer, no doubt about that.

In seconds, four vampires appeared in front of you. One with short black hair - almost a buzz cut -, one with brunette hair, one with long blond hair and the last one, oh, the last one you knew too damn well.

“Holy shit…” You muttered, “Carlisle?”

If vampires could cry, you knew you would start sobbing right there and then. Ugly crying like you had done so when you were being turned over four hundred and fifty years ago.

“Y/n?” Carlisle asked, as if you’d been a ghost. Maybe, in his eyes, it was all you were. A phantom, a ghost, something of the unimaginable.

You took a step closer to the four, each eyes clouded with utter confusion, then Carlisle's whose eyes were clear with a multitude of emotions, “If I had known you’d been bit, I would have helped you.”

You were hesitant to hug him, even though all you wanted to do was tackle him down and feel his arms around you.

“Carlisle, who is this?” The woman with blond hair asked, she seemed hesitant to trust you and seemed defensive - as if ready for a fight, even if Carlisle knew you.

Carlisle’s eyes did not move from yours, a faint smile on his face as he recalled memories from lifetimes ago, “An old friend, from before I turned.”

This time, Carlisle walked closer to you and in a second, he’d wrapped his arms around you and had you in a tight embrace. It seemed so odd to feel his warmth completely replaced with coldness, he'd finally matched your temperature, you didn't find him warm and he didn't find you cold anymore.

You completely melted in his arms, breathing in his scent and closing your eyes in content, you'd never hugged him before, you and him had only exchanged quick and harmless touches of the hand when you knew him as a mortal. It was nice. “I’m so sorry I left, Carlisle. I’m so sorry.”

He had one hand planted behind your neck, making his fingers intertwined in your hair, while his other hand was rested on your back. You knew you would have felt chills go up your back if you were still human, “It’s okay, I understand why you left now.”

When you let go of Carlisle, he let go as well, though, you could tell the man was hesitant to let go. You took a few steps back and took in the other three’s appearance. They all had one thing in common, yellow eyes - one that always reminded you of gold, meaning they all fed on animals like you.

“Hi.” You awkwardly said to the three teenagers, “Sorry to intrude.”

“Who are you exactly?” The brunette haired boy asked, he seemed tense, he didn't trust you and you assumed he must have been one of the eldest - taking Carlisle out of the equation.

You awkwardly fiddled with your hands, a habit you’d had since you were human, “My name’s Y/n, I met Carlisle a few hundred years ago.”

The three exchange looks with each other, then the blond woman looked back at you, her voice was cold. Sharp, "How come we have never heard of you?"

That was when Carlisle spoke up again, turning to the younger vampires, "I thought she was dead." Then he turned to you, "I looked for you, but after you left for Scotland, there was no trace of you."

You stared at Carlisle for a few seconds, did you feel relief or upset that he knew where you had left for? "You knew I left for Scotland?"

"Yes." He simply said, "One of the women who worked for your friend told me, but also mentioned something about Germany."

"Ah, yes." You smiled softly at yourself, looking at your boots. It was almost as if you reminiscing over those sweet, old memories, "Miss Delphine, a sweet lady, a shame I had to leave in such a hurry." You looked back up at Carlisle. "I was headed to Scotland, but I knew I was going to go further, just in case."

When no one spoke again, and the silence grew awkward, Carlisle turned the other three, then back to you, "Y/n, let me introduce you to my family, Edward, Rosalie and Emmett."

You nodded at them nervously, you were never good at introductions, even when you were expected to do them so frequently due to your consistent moving. “Hello.”

There was an odd silence between the five of you, but Carlisle was quick to end the awkwardness. It must have been odd. He had spent this much time by himself, believing that a dear friend of his was dead, only to find out you were perfectly fine - well, aside from the fact that you were a walking corpse for over four hundred years.

It was odd for you, you knew that too damn well. After all these centuries, beating yourself up for the unfavourable situation you and Carlisle were given - him having been a human when you met and you being a vampire. You had loved him for so long, never being able to get his damned voice out of your head, his smile, his face.

He was different from when you last saw him, that was one of the many things you were going to have to wrap your head around. His eyes were no longer their beautiful previous colour, now replaced by the shining gold colour you both now shared. He was paler than before, matching your frozen temperature and you could no longer smell his blood. Perhaps, you could be grateful for not having to take in the scent of his blood - it was a struggle for you all those years ago, and still arose as a problem even after centuries of living as a vampire.

"You three should head back home." Carlisle suggested to the three teenagers, they seemed hesitant at the thought, so Carlisle continued. "Please, me and Y/n have catching up to do."

It was took them a few moments to trust that Carlisle had faith in you, trusted that you wouldn't pose a threat of any kind. It was only when Carlisle made eye contact with the Edward boy, giving him a small nod. Edward had taken only a few, short seconds to give an approving nod, before speeding off with the two other hesitant vampires.

When the two of you were alone, really alone, you both simply stared at each other. Both of you wanted to say something, anything. But how could you? It had been around three hundred years since the two of you last each other, what if that spark between you two had died out? What if you two could no longer hold a meaningful, flowing conversation like you did before?

"Carlisle, I-" You only sighed out quietly, rubbing you eyes with your hand. "I've missed you, so much."

Carlisle only gave you a small smile, he took a step closer to you. "I have too."

You looked up at his golden eyes, you would miss his old coloured eyes - you decided - because you had found his previous eye colour so mesmerising, so different from yours. You wouldn't have wanted this cruel fate for Carlisle, never in your entire immortal life. Though, how bad could it really be? He was like you now, there's was no longer anything stopping you from trying to rekindle that old flame that burnt in your cold, dead heart for him.

You swiftly wrapped your arms around Carlisle, hugging him tightly. It wasn't long before his arms around around you, too. It had been the first time you two had ever hugged in the long time you've known each other. It held up to your expectations, to say the least.

"I don't want to lose you, Carlisle." You admitted quietly. "Not again. I don't want to leave your side, not like last time."

"I don't want that either." The blond replied almost as soon as you stopped talking, he didn't even want you to move from his embrace. "So don't leave my side."

"And stay?" You asked slowly.

"Stay for good." Carlisle said, looking down at you as his hands moved to cup your face. "Please."

"You mean join your coven?" You asked in a hushed voice, looking up at him as he looked down at him. Your question only resulted in a quick nod from him, even if non-verbal answers always seemed so confident.

You wasted no time in leaning upwards and placing your lips onto his, closing your eyes as you kissed him, which he kissed back as soon as your actions registered in his head.

The best part about being a vampire was that you two didn't need to breathe, which meant you two could have stayed like that for a few moments. However, when you parted your lips, you looked up at him.

"I'm never leaving your side again."

Masterlist

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laundrypause · 2 months ago

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AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but views it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

#loscar #will proceed to pass out after posting #honestly when writing this i was thinking of multiple admirers #but by the end it might seem it's only one admirer #oh welp #i guess they could also just refer to the one.....#brainrot has returned #imagine my surprise when I took a break from F1 and only when I saw colapinto I realised Logan got replaced #also #keep rpf in rpf places #goes without saying but some of us need a little reminder sometimes

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azurevi · 2 years ago

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from the eyes of the beholder

pairing: leona x gn!reader

summary: 5 times others know that leona is head over heels for you, and the 1 time he acts on it. 7.5k

note: just pure, innocent fluff ❤️ reader = ramshackle prefect

Jack liked to imagine himself as a somewhat perceptive person, especially with his large ears catching wind of exchanged whispers and his outstanding olfaction that allowed him to pick up distinctive scents. As reserved as he seemed, he tended to watch things from the sidelines and keep note of different people's quirks and whatnots, and so more often than not he would surprise others with his hidden knowledge and observations. All in all, he knew quite well about people around him.

Or so he thought, because whatever was unfolding in front of his widened eyes was making him doubt all his previous judegements about his much respected dorm leader.

It was mid-afternoon with the sun hanging high in the sky, burning with murderous intent. Jack, having had the misfortune to be the first student spotted by Crewel, was tasked to 'bring him the disobedient cat who would rather sleep than attend his lessons'. Jack recalled the places Ruggie would go to find Leona and found himself in the botanic garden in no time, eyes scanning the lush green and distracting flowers. He smelled his presence first, then noticed something else mixed in that woody scent.

His confusion only grew when he recognized its owner, who was none other than the prefect of Ramshackle. The trail led him to a spot shielded by a thick canopy of banana leaves, and right underneath was Leona, serenely asleep and– wait, is he sleeping on the prefect's lap? And is that their hand in his hair?

Jack blinked. He wasn't hallucinating.

Your face brightened in recognition when he finally shuffled close enough. "Hey Jack! Here to check on the cacti?"

"...No," despite his initial shock, his voice gave nothing away. Leona spared him one glance before promptly closing his eyes again. "Crewel asked me to bring Leona to class, but… what are you doing here?"

As if just now realizing yourself, you removed your fingers from Leona's silky hair, earning a dissatisfied huff. "Your dorm leader here caught me passing by and made me his personal pillow. I haven't moved from this position for hours."

Jack hoped that you were only exaggerating about the time, but frankly he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care. For one, the painfully arrogant, prideful, and self-assured prince was resting his head on your lap and letting you thread your fingers through his locks? The Leona who would scowl and glower whenever someone so much as brushed against his tail? The Leona who would bite someone's arm off before ever giving them the idea that he could be anything less than almighty, let alone soft?

"Just tell Crewel you failed. I'm not about to ruin my nap to brew stupid potions," Leona stated, stubborn as usual.

"No way, I'm not missing my classes so that you can have your fun in dreamland. Get up!" You nudged him. No movement. "Jack, can you help me drag him off?"

Before the poor boy could take a step, Leona growled. "Don't you dare. Just give me ten more minutes, damn it."

"That's the third time you've said it." You deadpanned, to which he responded with a half-hearted hum. Seeing as he wasn't moving any time soon, your shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'll bring him over as soon as the ten minute mark passes."

It was less than ideal to have to go back to Crewel empty-handed, but there was no convincing Leona when he was hell-bent on doing something. With a defeated sigh, Jack nodded. "I'll be relying on you then, prefect."

If there was one person in NRC who could be deemed trust-worthy, it had to be you. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back before bidding goodbye.

In reality, didn't leave right away. He knew that he shouldn't intrude on his friend's life (let alone his senior's), but curiosity got him in a chokehold. Besides, he needed to make sure that you wouldn't get your wrist torn off if you tried anything else.

"It's quite unfair, actually," you mumbled. "All you do is lie around all day, how do you even pass your classes?"

"Everything the school’s teaching, I’ve already learned back home." Leona's mouth curled into a smirk. "What, are you jealous?"

"As if," you rolled your eyes. As if out of habit, you started smoothing his mane out again. With each gentle stroke, Leona's face relaxed into a peaceful expression, and his ears twitched in what Jack could only identify as delight. You must've noticed it too, because something akin to interest flitted across your feature. Jack's stomach dropped. He had seen that look many times before, and it was a telltale sign of trouble.

After only a bit of hesitation, your outstretched hand moved to touch Leona's fluffy ear. That's it, Jack thought. You'd done it– poked at the hornet’s nest, shoved your hand inside a tiger’s yawning mouth, threw yourself into a river filled with piranhas. It was nice knowing you. There was no way you were going to get away with this.

Leona's eyes shot open, his nose scrunched in annoyance. "Careful where you touch, herbivore."

"Fine. My bad," you removed your hand with great reluctance, returning to dedicate your attention to his hair. The moment carried on as if nothing had happened, and within seconds Leona was already snoring.

What the hell was that. Jack swiveled on his heels and let his legs lead him away. In his head was only thoughts darting around, trying to make sense of why exactly Leona acted so differently towards you. The fact that he had you stay during his sleeping time was already out of character enough, but to let you off after you touched his ear, one of the most sensitive parts of a beastman's body?

There could be something going on here. Jack had a hunch on what it was, but he didn't feel like jumping to conclusions just yet. For now, he should just sit and watch.

At the end of the day, he got caught by Crewel again. It turned out that Leona never showed up for his lesson after all.

It was a breezy afternoon, but for Epel it was hotter than ever on the sports ground. The Magift Club was having its routine training, and everyone was dedicating their best even though it wasn't a real tournament.

His own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as he dashed towards the opposing team's goal, the golden disk hovering right beside him. Yells and heavy steps followed him, but he was determined not to let his legs give out. Eagerness lurched inside his throat as the net neared, and he angled his arm to throw the disk–

-- only to get thrown off balance by a gust of wind. He landed on his butt with a groan, and looked up to see the disk in the possession of one Savanaclaw student. Cursing under his breath, he swatted the dirt off his knees and dived into action again.

After some more intense chasing and magic being thrown around, he headed with the rest of the team towards the benches, where Leona was sprawled out on a chair, sharp eyes heavy-lidded and coated with sleep. It wouldn't be a surprise if he turned out to have slept through the entire match.

"... Your weakness is that you only know how to charge forward." Leona commented just as Epel was about to take a sip from his water bottle. "You can't improve if you never learn how to look out for ambushes."

"Ah… thank you."

Alright, so maybe he hadn't been out for the count after all. Nonchalantly, Leona shifted into a more comfortable position, his face angled away from Epel. Even if he came off as detached and uncaring most of the time, there were occasions where he would give out short yet valuable advice and prove that he had been keeping an eye on his members. Epel only hoped that he could see the renowned player in action more often. Sadly, it only happened once in a blue moon.

"Ah, look who's here," Ruggie said. Epel followed his gaze and spotted you walking across the field, holding a paper bag large enough to topple you. It wasn't rare that you would drop by and visit. In fact, most of them had been looking forward to you and swarmed you with warm welcomes (presumably because they knew you were hiding snacks in that bag, but Epel decided not to comment on that when his stomach was rumbling too).

"Where's Leona?" You asked once you've given Ruggie a bag of donuts. The grinning hyena jutted his head to the side, "Lazing around as usual. Wanna stay and watch us play?"

You arched your head back and scanned the clock above the rows of seats. "Sure, I have some time to kill." You gave him a thumbs up and made your way towards the chairs at the front.

Epel watched as you kicked Leona's chair to wake him up. He was too far away to hear whatever you were talking about, but you looked pretty close, chatting away with an exchanged chuckle here and there. Even though Leona still looked sleep-laden, he rested his head on his fist and kept his eyes on you the whole time.

One was his club leader, and the other was his close friend. He was starting to wonder how you two had become so close when Ruggie threw his arm around his frame. "Time for round two! What, you still haven't finished the cookies? Need some help?"

Epel quickly shoved them inside his mouth. "No fran qu (no thank you)!"

Everyone had already spread out in two teams when Leona promptly stood up from his humble 'throne' and stepped onto the field. "Wait. You, swap with me."

The second-year student in question pointed at himself and blinked.

Leona frowned. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"N-no!" The student ran off with his tail literally between his legs. Epel's eyes followed the man as he made his way to the front of the opposing team, stretching his muscled limbs.

The match started as soon as you blew the whistle. If Leona actually getting on the field was out of the ordinary, then him putting effort in playing was enough to leave one flabbergasted and dumbfounded. He didn't even have to lift a finger to weave his way through the wall of opponents. Yet, as Epel watched on, he couldn't help but feel both amazed and startled at the same time.

Amazed, because Leona really lived up to his name as one of the top players among the long list of magic schools. He was quick on his feet, never letting anyone so much as touch the hem of his shirt as he flashed past defenses. In fact, his moves were so unpredictable and fast that whatever formations that had been discussed dissolved within moments as everyone scrambled to block him. But that was not all– he was tactical. One moment he was making others chase him so that he could sweep them away with one single hit, the other he was planting traps on the ground and sneering as they fell victim. It was like he could predict everyone's move.

There was no chance of beating him even if he had his eyes closed all the way. Though Epel's eyes were trained on the lone figure, he could hear your voice booming across the field.

"Ruggie! Epel! Go get him!"

"Ugh, I'm trying!" Epel clenched his jaw and rushed forward, shouting as he prepared to launch a sneak attack from behind– then Leona turned his head and smirked.

–

It only took fifteen minutes for Leona to render everyone useless. Epel dragged himself towards the benches and dropped himself carelessly, limbs sprayed out as he tried to catch his breath.

"Did you have to go that harsh on them?" You said as Leona returned with nary a bead of sweat. There was a touch of playful reprimand in your voice.

"They need to be humbled once in a while lest they become too full of themselves."

You two moved somewhere else, the air carrying your words away. The temporary silence was replaced by Ruggie's wheezes. "Jeez- lemme catch my breath. That was hell."

"I know right," Epel answered weakly. "Do you think Leona-san joined because we weren’t doing good enough?"

"Please, he wouldn't bother," there were sounds of a paper bag being rustled. A moment later, Ruggie spoke up again, this time with food in his mouth. "The answer is pretty simple, actually. Why do you think he worked so hard out there?"

"...He wanted to kick our asses?"

"Nah, that's too much trouble. If he wanted to kick your ass he would've asked me to do it." Epel wasn't sure what to feel about that information. "The truth is- he just wanted to show off, duh."

Epel craned his head so he was facing Ruggie. "Show off? To whom?"

"C'mon. Just see for yourself."

He did as told, scanning the place and eventually spotting you still talking to Leona, this time playfully shoving at his arm at something he had said. There was this look on his face that Epel couldn't put a name to. He'd seen it on someone else though: Sebek as he gushed about Malleus, Rook as he read a magazine with Vil's face printed on the cover, Cater when he came across something Magicam-worthy. Epel knew exactly what these displayed feelings were, but then it would mean that–

"Leona-san worked us to the bone just so he could impress the prefect?" Epel all but barked out the accusation. Ruggie giggled at his reaction and shrugged, leaving the boy even more exasperated. That wasn't really the point, but irritance was clouding his senses at that time. It was only until he was back in his room and lying in bed that he would start to connect the dots and let out a loud, stunned gasp.

The café near NRC had been flooded with customers all day, and the queue only lengthened as time passed. Cater squeezed his dry eyes shut, having scrolled on his phone the whole time he was waiting outside.

Ever since a famed influencer on Magicam had complimented this café in a post, it had been getting all the hype. Cater couldn’t miss out on the fun, even if everything on the menu was too saccharine for his liking.

After what felt like millennia, he finally got inside the shop. It looked like pink had vomited all over the walls, but it should look aesthetic enough for the folks on Magicam. Cater spotted a vacant seat by the window and rushed towards it. From the corner of his eyes he could see a man heading in the same direction.

“Shit-“ the man cussed as he tripped.

“Ah, my bad.” Cater raised his hands and stepped away. The man muttered something under his breath and looked up. The seat had already been taken by the… same man that had just run into him?

Cater chuckled quietly as the man looked around the shop, then back at him again. His unique magic really came in handy sometimes.

He ordered the most famous dishes and turned to his phone again. Perhaps he would give them to those adorable first-years later, or just send them all to Trey.

After a while, even the endless scrolling came to an end. Cater pressed on the home button and waited for the page to refresh. Emerald eyes wandered lazily around the room, rounding when he caught sight of a familiar figure.

If it was any other person, Cater would’ve thought that his eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistaking those ears and long tail. That was definitely Leona Kingscholar, standing in queue with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Much like Cater, he was still in school uniform, and the look of irritance on his face made him stand out like a sore thumb in this sugary world.

Just what could he be doing here? Cater knew that the man wasn’t particularly into sweets and pastries. He definitely wasn’t one to follow trends either. Not to mention that he had zero media presence… unless he had a private account?

Leona’s tail flicked. The man in front of him suddenly crossed his foot in front of the other and stumbled out of the queue. Leona quickly stepped up and silenced whatever the man was going to say with a glare.

In the corner of the café, Ruggie’s shoulders shook with laughter.

Even with underhand methods, there was only so much the two could do to shorten the waiting time. It took another fifteen minutes for them to finally get to the counter. Cater watched with intrigue as the barista stuffed two well-loved red velvet cakes into a white box and handed it to Leona.

Ruggie quickly finished one of them as soon as he got his hands on it, and Cater read ‘worth the effort’ from his lips movement. The two left with the untouched piece sitting peacefully inside the box.

Well, that was something. Cater shook his head and started snapping pictures of the desserts that had arrived moments ago. To think that Leona of all people would wait in line just for a piece of cake… his thoughts went on as he mindlessly typed out a caption. Could it have been for someone else ?

Nah. No way. He couldn’t imagine Leona ever lifting a finger for anyone other than himself.

Night was already creeping on the horizon by the time he finally finished posting. The walk back school was accompanied by more scrolling. The prefect’s profile icon popped up in the ‘story’ section. Cater clicked in without a second thought.

It was a photo of a red velvet cake. The red velvet cake. The text above it read ‘pleasant surprise from an unlikely party!’

Within moments, he was already scanning the entire photo like a detective. There, in the right corner, was a tail. No doubt about it. And he knew the tail— he had just watched its owner spend nearly half an hour lining up in the cafe.

"Now isn't this an interesting discovery…?" Mischief passed over his eyes for a split second, his legs picking up the pace. It seemed that desserts wouldn't be the only thing he would be delivering today.

It was nothing out of the norm for Leona to spend Monday afternoons napping under the tall apple tree. In fact, he went there so routinely that he might as well become one with the background.

Today, though, something had changed. Or as Rook would call it, love was in the air, because under the tree were two figures in lieu of one.

You were sitting cross-legged against the trunk, sheets laid out around you like a protective shield. Every once in a while, Leona’s tail would mess them up, and if you berated him he would feign innocence.

“Come on Leona, you’re the only one who can help me with this.” You nudged his knee.

Rook squinted, his eyes locking onto the documents. There, on the top of what seemed to be the cover page, read ‘Sunset Savanna’.

Ah, a history project then.

“Ask Ruggie.”

“I would if he wasn’t busy doing your duties. So you’re stuck with me.”

Leona made a low grumbling noise, but Rook noted that his face showed no sigh of annoyance. How unfair! The first few times Rook approached the beastman during his nap, he received nothing less than distasteful glares and venomous threats.

One more evidence supporting his hypothesis.

“Fine. You have five minutes to ask questions.”

A smile bloomed on your face, one that Leona didn’t fail to catch. It was only a flash, easily overlooked, but Rook saw it crystal clear— the subtle tenderness intruding on his scowl. It disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

“Alright. So what’s Sunset Savannah like?”

“Hot.”

You heaved a sigh. “You’re not cooperating here.”

“Maybe your questions are too vague, herbivore.”

“Ugh- fine! Let’s start with the people. Do you guys have a mascot or something?”

Leona shifted so he was lying on his side, left arm propped up with his head resting on his palm. “There’s this warthog and meerkat everyone loves. They’re supposed to be related to the King of Beasts. Personally though, I couldn't care less.”

"How about something that cannot be found anywhere else?”

“Mm. Hot spring eggs,”

“You guys have hot springs?” With the way your eyes twinkled with interest, Leona couldn’t help but give in.

“No, it’s a volcano…”

Your ‘interview’ stretched out for far longer than five minutes, eventually jumping from general knowledge to Leona’s own experience with the place he grew up at.

“Sure, the sunset is beautiful, but the real show begins when night falls. All kinds of stars come out, perfect for sentimental beings like you.”

“I don’t believe that you’ve never looked at them before.” You challenged.

Leona scoffed, reaching to scratch the back of his ear. “Only as a kid. It gets boring.”

“The privilege is showing, your highness,” you sighed wistfully, angling your head so you were gazing at the bright sky. “I wish we had stars here too.”

“If you really want to see them, I can bring you there next time.”

Your face lightened up.

“Of course, it comes with a price.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what will it be?”

A dismissive hum. “I’ll decide later.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it then.” You started packing your things, missing the way Leona’s tail swished. Even if you had noticed, you probably wouldn’t have understood what it meant. Rook tittered into his palm as he watched on.

“Leaving so soon? I expected more questions,” Leona said.

“I'd rather not get on your bad side by keeping you away from your precious nap. I’ll come to you if I need anything—“ your words were interrupted with a sharp hiss. In your careless movements, the paper managed to slice through your skin, leaving a stinging cut.

Leona picked up the smell immediately, his eyes trained on your finger. The slit was unnoticeable at first, but red eventually started to bloom around it.

“Tsk. How careless are you?” He jumped onto his feet and snatched your hand, observing the cut. Your eyes danced between his face and the wound, much like a flustered rabbit.

“It's just a cut.” You started, trying to hide your hand. But his grip on you was strong, albeit not enough to hurt.

“No it's not. You could get an infection and end up troubling me again. I’ll get you bandaged up.” He began walking with his hand still holding your wrist, pulling you along.

You took advantage of the situation and dived into another round of questions for your project, and Leona, irritated that he might seem, answered them accordingly.

As the two of you neared the building Rook was in, his eyes suddenly shot up, practically shooting daggers at a particular window.

“What’s it?” You stood on your tiptoes. There was no one behind the glass.

His features remained hardened for a moment before he relaxed his shoulders. “…Nothing. You were sayin’?”

Rook waited a few seconds to reemerge again. Although you’d already vanished from sight, he had already gathered all that he needed: the lion had been captivated by none other than the magic-less prefect, and he barely needed his instincts and observations as a hunter to confirm that.

It wasn’t that you hated group work. If anything, you enjoyed having someone share the workload. But when your group mates were none other than the red & blue duo from Heartslabyul plus a cat-shaped trouble magnet, you would really rather be left alone.

“We should make a body swapping potion. I bet it’ll be fun if Riddle and Floyd exchanged personalities.” Ace suggested with that look of his that often preceded undesired circumstances. You were heading to your next class along with the wave of students in the corridor.

“Can you please take this test seriously? I can’t get another fail!” Deuce slapped the back of Ace’s head, causing the redhead to stagger forward. A few students turned their heads around in curiosity, but most were already familiar with the two's antics.

Crewel had given each group the mission to brew from scratch one of the potions mentioned in the textbook as a part of the term test, not knowing what a mistake it was to leave the power of decision-making to you lot.

“How about a potion that can make all food taste like Tuna?” Grim asked, tail brushing your neck as he perched himself on your shoulder.

“Just ask Trey to do that for you.” You commented, not bothering to look up from the testbook in your hands.

“You’re right, henchman! Let’s go right now!”

“Focus on the test first, will you?” Ace was the one to complain this time, earning a hiss from Grim.

“Let’s narrow it down to potions that are easy to make. It’ll be more convenient if the ingredients can be acquired in the botanical garden.” Deuce went around the bickering duo to peek over your shoulder.

The mention of the botanical garden reminded you of a certain lazy lion. Being caught up in the test had kept you from meeting Leona in your free time. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for a whole week already. It didn’t help that he was in another year and had entirely different classes.

Perhaps you could pay him a visit later, but it’s not as if he would miss you or something. A foreign sadness crept up on you. You shook the thought off and opted to focus on the book instead.

It seemed that fate preferred otherwise, because a gust of wind carried Ruggie's laughter to you, followed by a gruntle from– speak of the devil– Leona. Your eyes were already searching for him through the passing crowd before you could contain your curiosity. The lurch in your chest told a lot more than you were willing to admit.

Leona, on the contrary, didn't need to search at all. His sharp eyes landed on you with infallible precision, as unreadable as ever. If it had been anyone else, you would've raised your hand and greeted them with energy, but this was the same person who once walked past you as though you were a mere stranger, leaving your open palm hanging in the air. As an attempt to preserve your dignity, you decided to avert your eyes.

Anyways, since when did Leona of all people go to classes?

Your heartbeat succumbed to a deafening rhythm the closer he got. Half hopeful and half desperate to suppress it, you held your breath the moment he was close enough that your shoulders touched.

As expected, he did not greet or even address you in any way. But there was something soft touching your cheek, the suddenness making your eye twitch in surprise. It caressed your face almost gently before cool air took its place.

You turned just in time to catch Leona's tail retreating.

–

Engrossed in the contents of the book, you missed all the meaningful gazes being shot around by your friends. Ace and Deuce had been at it for some time, while Grim pretended to understand.

Deuce was positive that he wasn’t on the same channel as Ace. Just earlier, when he’d caught Leona’s tail poking your face, he shot a quick look at Ace. A raised brow, a glance towards you, then back to Ace. It was supposed to mean ‘Did you catch that?’, and Ace took it as ‘Wanna ambush the prefect?’

The resulted mayhem when Ace tackled you was something you never wanted to bring up again.

Now Deuce wasn’t sure what went on between you and the fearsome leader of Savanaclaw, but Ace had an idea or two. Epel and Jack had both commented offhandedly about the weird atmosphere that surrounded you two. Deuce was present both times, but it'd probably flew right over his head.

Deuce wriggled his brows. Do you have any idea?

Ace mirrored him. Dude, what even is that supposed to mean?

Grim’s feigned participation was cut short when he caught sight of two familiar figures entering the canteen. “Hey! What is that sleepyhead doing here?”

All three of you snapped your heads towards the entrance. There stood the spotlight of their discussion, Leona, in his usual rumpled form, half-awake daze, sharp fangs catching the chandelier’s light as he yawned.

“First he heads to class, now he’s coming to the canteen himself. What’s up with that guy?” Grim gasped dramatically. “Is he plotting something again?”

“He’s not,” you came to his defense with suspicious rapidness. “Plus, what is there to plot about?”

“Mm. You have a point, henchman.”

“Alright,” Ace held his fist out. “Loser buys lunch. Rock paper scissors!”

Grim let out a shrill laugh as Deuce stared at his sole open palm in defeat. It wasn’t your fault that he only ever played paper.

While your cat proceeded to go off on a tangent the today's menu, you gazed over at the growing masses of students.

“So,” Ace craned his head. “Have you chosen the potion or are we going with body swapping?”

“Or the tuna one!”

“Neither.” You tore your eyes away and turned the book around. “We’re making a flower-growing potion—“

They groaned loudly.

“—because it’s easy to make. Do you want to pass or not?” You insisted.

“I would rather be well-fed! Flowers are stu- FNNGA!”

Grim jumped a good feet in the air when someone slammed their lunch on your table, his fur standing tall in alert. Leona sank onto Deuce’s seat, while Ruggie took the spot next to Ace. “You should try to be gentler, Leona-san.”

Before the lion could answer, Grim stood up and yelled, “Hey! That’s Deuce’s seat!”

“Yea? He’s tiny enough to squeeze in somewhere.” Leona said nonchalantly. There was a curiously excessive amount of meat in his dish. After a beat, he turned to you. “What’re you up to?”

Ace resisted the urge to tell him off, preferring to indulge in your interaction to preserve Deuce’s interests.

“Potion test. What, have you missed me?”

“A lil’ bit.”

That seemed to catch you off-guard. Ace snorted in his attempt to hold in a laugh, and received a kick under the table from Ruggie.

As you tried to come up with a response, he leaned in and grabbed your book. “Making something?”

“The one for growing flowers. Its ingredients are the easiest to find.”

“Ah. I know where you can find them in the botanical garden. I’ll show you later.” He closed the book and slid it across the table.

“Wouldn’t I be invading your precious rest?”

“Then you’ll just have to catch up and be quick.”

Just then, Deuce returned with an expression twisted between confusion and betrayal. Ace barely felt guilt-- there were many things he had to discuss with Deuce (and Grim, though he seemed ignorant).

For now, he just let the pouting boy squeeze in beside him and quietly observed Leona and you throughout lunch, utilizing whatever knowledge he had about love to analyze the situation. He picked up on the way you took Leona’s vegetables without having to ask and how you slapped his hand away when he reached for the meat on your plate. Occasionally he would throw in a snarky comment that aimed to drive you up and wall, and smirk when it succeeded.

And those looks, sevens. If Ace had to watch for a minute longer he might have to puke in his lunch. He reckoned that he’d already seen enough before turning to address Deuce, who was still hung up on his seat being taken.

It felt great, holding this kind of knowledge over you. If he played his cards right, he might even get some benefits out of it.

“Dude, what’s with that creepy smirk on your face?” Ruggie pointed out suddenly.

Ace shrugged, “Nothing. You’ll know sooner or later.”

Ruggie was the first to know.

Leona had been upfront and rather transparent about his feelings, but the hyena had long before noticed the shifts in Leona’s attitude towards you. It was hard not to when he was the one kicking him awake and dragging him to class everyday. Leona's actions spoke a lot more than words could, and the occasional passing glances were impossible to ignore.

When Ruggie confronted him about it, he admitted it while making it sound as casual as he could. Ruggie never for a second bought his nonchalance.

And it was great, knowing that his dorm leader wasn’t a stone-cold heartless jerk. It was both leverage and great material for teasing even when Leona would threaten to tape his mouth shut.

That was until the people came in. First it was Jack, then it was Epel, then the many other friends and acquaintances who wanted first-hand information on Leona’s love life. Even underclassmen whom he’d only seen around campus approached him. At first it was a great source of income— nothing came without a price after all— but when it began to interfere with his work, it didn’t feel so satisfying anymore.

If Leona would just make it official, it would make Ruggie’s life so much easier. But no, that lion was so stubborn that he hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet. And he doubted that you were any wiser.

Now Ruggie knew better than to stick his nose where he didn’t belong. There were countless ways in which things could go wrong and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Leona’s wrath. Yet if they went right, he could get those nosy students off his back and end the torture of seeing you dance around each other like two dumbasses.

No, he wasn’t concerned about your (or Leona’s, for that matter) love life at all. He just wanted Leona to spend more time with you so he could catch a break.

Plus it’d put Leona in a good mood, and that’s really all he could ask for.

As usual, Leona’s room was disheveled when Ruggie entered, a chess board lying at the end of the bed while its rightful owner was snoozing, wrapped inside a blanket like a burrito. With light steps he lurked further in, inhaled deeply, and flung the file toward the sleeping lion with all his might.

Leona’s hand shot out from the blanket and caught the document mid-air. “What did I say about interrupting my naps, Bucchi?”

“That I should never wake you even if the sky’s falling down?”

As Leona stretched his limbs after the satisfying rest, the bed seemed to shrink in comparison. “You better have a good reason then.” He said mid-yawn, opening the file to read the papers inside. He was supposed to pick them up from Crowley, but decided that they weren’t important enough to warrant his presence.

Well, here goes nothing. “I take it that you haven’t heard then.”

“Heard what.”

“That the prefect is leaving soon,” Ruggie walked around the room to pick up the miscellaneous items on the floor, unfazed under the lion’s relentless glare. “Crowley found a way to send them back to wherever they came from. They’ve already started packin’, emptying the building and all.”

The silence was heavy. A heavy cloak of tension draped over the room.

“No,” Leona turned in his bed. “If they really were leaving, they would’ve told me.”

“Yea, but why?” Ruggie pushed, stifling a titter at the way Leona's tail swayed to and fro in growing agitation. “It’s not like you’re close or anything.”

Leona opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. A laugh startled out of him. “You’re fucking with me, Bucchi. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

"Whatever, man. I've said all I have to say." Ruggie took a peek of his meticulously concealed expression. It didn't matter that he wouldn't believe it now. He'd planted a fear in his heart, and fear was a vicious, powerful thing. He did one more round around the room, decided that Leona wasn't going to say anything else, and headed for the door.

“Y’know, I’m just saying, but we don’t know when, or if they will come back, so maybe you should get off that— okay! Stop throwing shit at me! ” Ruggie scurried out with his tail between his legs, cursing under his breath.

“The things I do for these dumbasses… they better pay me ten donuts if it works– no, twenty!”

—

The blanket was starting to feel constricting. Leona kicked it off of him and reluctantly opened his eyes, now wide awake and ruminating on what Ruggie had just said.

You're leaving.

He rolled over and turned on his phone– something he almost never did. There were over a hundred unread emails and messages, mostly from home, but he ignored them all and found your contact after some scrolling. The last time you'd texted had been about his absence at the prefects' meeting, and he'd left you on read. In fact, the conversations were mostly one-way, with occasional 'ok's and insincere emojis dispersed on his side of the screen.

It wasn't that you didn't talk a lot. You usually met up in person, and if he really needed you, he could just call you, though that was not an usual occurrence.

"It's not like you're close or anything."

His eyes flew up to your status. Last online: 6 hours ago. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated.

So what if you were really leaving? It shouldn't matter to him. You were just someone he tolerated more than most, and he'd known from the beginning that you didn't belong here. There had always been an expiration date on your stay. The horror of you suddenly vanishing from his life shouldn't be this hollowing.

But it was very, very hollowing, and very, very real. Perhaps a part of him had always thought that everything would stay the same– you and him here, where he was far enough from home that he could forget his empty, meaningless title as the second prince, the unwanted son, where he could rest knowing that nothing, and no one, could take you away from him.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was nothing he could do, and he was destined to lose you the way he'd lost everything he'd ever wanted to someone else.

Or maybe– there was a tiny voice at the back of his head– maybe he still wanted to try and fight against it, as pointless as it sounded. Deep down, he only knew two things: that he would never forgive himself if he just let you slip away, and that you were always worth trying for.

Stupid herbivore, always planting this stupid hope in his heart.

He all but hopped off the bed, and pointedly ignored Ruggie's smirk as he made a run for the mirror chamber.

–

Trapped on all sides with arms so sore you could barely lift them up, you reckoned that the decision to deal with all this by yourself was a great mistake.

There was old and new furniture occupying the spaces around you, and some more that were stuck on the porch, all demanding your attention. You’d naively thought that the unpacking and moving would take no time. And now it was dusk already, and you’d barely gone through half of the deliveries.

After what had probably been months of requesting and protesting, Crowley finally allowed you to buy some new furniture for your dorm with the school’s money. It’d felt like winning a long, taxing battle, finally able to bid farewell to the drawers that wouldn’t open and the chairs that wobbled.

It was all fine until the furniture came. You’d been in class when the driver rang, and by the time you returned, he'd already left, leaving the heavy boxes outside the door.

Perhaps you really should’ve called some friends from Savanaclaw that were strong enough to help. Jack, for one. Maybe even the unmotivated dorm leader. Anyone would be a much better help than Grim, really, who was probably outside the building trying to claw his way into the unopened boxes.

In the midst of your wallowing, you failed to pick up Grim’s sharp yell, only the slam of the front door that shook the whole building. A scolding formed on your tongue, but quickly dissolved when you heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs. Squeezing your way through the furnishings, you poked your head out of your room and waited.

The stomps came closer, stopped. A pause later, Leona came around the corner, mane disheveled and eyes flying around, almost in panic. When they landed on you, his shoulders sank in relief.

“Leona? Wh-”

“Thank the sevens,” He marched up to you in a few strides, and when he’s close enough, his arms suspended in the air, reaching for a part of you that he could touch. After a long moment, he stuck them back to his sides.

Emerald eyes landed on the disastrous scene inside the room, especially the emptied shelves and belongings piled in a corner. Something strained passed over his features.

Once you got over the initial shock, you remembered what you’d just been thinking of. “Hey, now that you're here, do you think you can help me move-”

“Don’t leave.”

You blinked. “What?”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, brows knitted in a frown. “Don’t make me say it again… I can’t believe you decided to keep me in the dark.”

You looked inside the room and back at him. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What if it is for me?” With a gentle hesitation that you’d never seen him exhibit, he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped when he brought your knuckles to his lips, his gaze solely focused on you. He’d always loved lingering around your personal space, but not like this. Not with his feelings being put on display, like a show you weren’t supposed to see.

“I came here in such a rush that I didn’t even have time to think over what to say. Just…” he closed his eyes. “Reconsider your leave. Please. Or at the very least, stay for a few more weeks. You can’t just stumble into my life and leave without a sign. I don’t even want to imagine returning to a life without you. For this once, I need you to choose me.”

And then, as if realizing his unusual display of vulnerability, his face hardened up. “...Look, I rarely ask anything of anyone. Whatever deadly grip you have on me, you gotta be responsible for it.”

You sucked in a breath, processing his abrupt spill of feelings, before lowering your head. For a moment he took the trembling of your shoulders as you crying, but soon enough he recognized the peals of laughter that fell out of you. If he hadn’t just laid his heart out in front of you, he would’ve taken the time to indulge in the sound that he loved so much.

“Is this funny?” He scowled.

“Mm. No,” you jutted your head towards your room. “Did you think I was leaving?”

Confusion passed over his face. “Of course. You have everything packed, and Crowley…”

He trailed off, the gears in his head turning. Suddenly it all became clear to him. The new stuff laying around. The absence of your clingy friends. The simple fact that no one seemed to know that you were 'leaving'. After a moment, something akin to fury dawned on his expression. “…has never actually been helpful. Damn it, Bucchi.”

Your heart dipped when he removed his hand from around your wrist, ruffling his long locks. “Just a house makeover then. Got it. Forget about it. Bye.”

“Wait, no!” You rushed in front of him, blocking his exit. “What about all the stuff you just said?”

He raised a brow, feigning ignorance, and earned a roll of your eyes, “Well, I’m not letting them slide. I’m not going anywhere, at least not yet.” You thought for a moment. “The truth is, I haven’t decide if I want to leave. I’ve built so much around here that it’ll just be like leaving another home. But if it soothes you, I’m sure the day I have to choose is still far away from us. So, in the meantime…” You reached for his hand in the same manner, kissing the knot of his knuckle. His ears twitched, giving away his carefully concealed emotions. “Let me be responsible for the turmoils in your heart?”

“About damn time.” Leona moved in, this time landing the kiss on your lips, and his smile spread into it easily, like a lovesick lover returning home.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes

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