#Slowly gathering the strength to apply to jobs

[miasketches]

Mrrp? (Tired)

[gatitties]

Zoro x reader with reader unable to feel pain since birth and suffers from haemophilia or a blood clotting disorder which causes heavy bleeding / haemorrhage even with the smallest cuts. But since reader doesnt feel pain, she doesnt notice the bleeding and thought she's just tired so she went to her room for a nap but actually ended up passing out on her bed. When Zoro thought he hasnt seen you for some time, goes to your room to check and is horrified to see pale reader and your sheets soaked in blood. Tried to see where the bleeding is from but cannot see a wound consistent with the bleeding, but notices a medium sized cut in your hand, though not heavy, this continues to bleed and doesnt show any signs of stopping even when he tried applying pressure in it. Panic settling in, he calls the crew for help. You can make it either angst or hurt/comfort, i'll let ypu decide ^^

─Zoro x reader

─Summary: Some advantages are also weaknesses, but above all a great concern for Zoro.

─Warnings: blood

"One last stretch and you can go rest"

Zoro warned you as your muscles flexed to strengthen your muscles and strength, ever since you decided to take the path of being a pirate with a bounty on your head, you thought that daily training would keep you fit enough so that the marines wouldn't give you too many headaches. Due to a disease you were born with, you are unable to feel pain, which is a great advantage in a fight but a disadvantage, not feeling anything will give you the drive to continue fighting without your brain registering the pain, but your body has its own limit even if you don't feel it physically. For that reason you asked Zoro for help with your training, since he did it himself, he checked that you didn't overexert yourself until your body started to fail.

"That's all for today, good job, you should take a shower and rest."

"Thanks, what's tomorrow?"

"Lower body" he smiled ghostly when he saw your annoyed face, he knew that training legs was not one of your favorite things but it was necessary "see you at dinner"

You said goodbye vaguely with a gesture, heeding his words, you took a long and well-deserved hot shower, although you didn't feel it, you knew that your muscles relax under the drops of water and it makes you sigh, the warm sensation relaxes you to the point of almost falling asleep, if it weren't for Nami wanting to come in, you could have fainted right there. You staggered a little trying to get to your room, thinking that your eyelids felt heavy due to the tiredness of training, as well as the slight feeling of dizziness, you didn't bother to adjust yourself, your body collapsed against the mattress and you immediately stopped being conscious.

The afternoon continued quietly like any other, Nami was mapping, Chopper was sorting out medical supplies, Brook was practicing some sheet music, Robin was reading while sunbathing, Sanji was cooking dinner… everyone gathered together once he finished today’s dish, but you didn’t show up at the time you usually did, Luffy was getting impatient because Sanji wasn’t going to let him eat unless everyone was at the table, so he sent Zoro to find you.

"Hey, dinner’s ready idiot, what’s taking you so long? I told you to rest, not hibernate."

He knocked on the door a couple of times with his knuckles, waiting a couple of seconds to knock again, not knowing that something more than impatience was making its way through his senses, he carelessly opened the door, horrified by the scene before his eyes, your body lay on your bed barely hanging on, ─you had been slowly sliding to the floor since you fell asleep─ your sheets were completely soaked in blood, your own blood staining the whole place as if someone had made a massacre right there.

"Fuck-"

He hurried to turn you around, your face was pale due to the loss of blood, his mind was going so fast that he didn't think about telling anyone at that moment, he needed to find where the bleeding was coming from and try to stop it, but his efforts were null, there wasn't any bruise, there wasn't any big cut on your body, it seemed as if you had simply decided to expel blood everywhere. He began to sweat as he noticed your labored breathing, overcoming the initial shock he screamed for help at the top of his lungs as he continued to investigate the cause of this strange event.

"Oh my God! What happened!? There's no time, quick, go to the medical room!"

He immediately carried your body, heeding the orders that Chopper barked with concern, the rest of the team followed them closely observing your condition with concern. Chopper did his job but he was also unable to find the reason for your problems, it was not until, when you entered a more stable state due to the blood transfusion that Zoro took your hand, he felt the crimson liquid stain his palm.

"Chopper, get a couple of bandages."

A small cut on your hand caused all that disaster, but once they found and fixed the problem, they allowed themselves to rest, at least the doctor and the others, continued with dinner as planned, Zoro however preferred to stay by your side in case you woke up, you always scared him to death with this kind of things, it's not the first nor the last time it will happen to you and he will never stop being worried enough about you, you are not helping him cope with his feelings and one day you will give him a heart attack if you keep going like this.

[katmoonz]

Pretty Girl Can Take It

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Includes: Rough sex, Dom!Remus, Sub!Reader, overstimulation, praise kink, orgasms, fingering, mention of squirting, slightest bit of crying, pet names, aftercare, smut, fluff

Do not post any of my work anywhere else!!! I’m fine with reblogs but not with people stealing my work. 

Notes: This took me so long to write, it was supposed to be just an aftercare fic but I got a bit carried away setting the scene and ended up with 90% smut, here’s the result...

“I'm gonna cum” you moan as your boyfriend Remus Lupin pounds into you roughly from behind.

You and Remus had been at it for a while and you'd cum twice already but he kept going overstimulating you, loving the way that it made you clench around his length whilst letting out loads of little gasps and moans.

Remus slows down and pulls you by the hair so that you are on your knees leaning back against him.

“Darling, you ask when you want to cum, you should know that by now” he grunts into your ear as he pauses in his thrusts.

“No, no, no, please don’t stop!” You whine.

“M’pretty baby is so needy for me, isn’t she? Ask nicely and I might give you what you want.” Remus says gruffly in your ear.

Remus starts kissing down the side of your neck leaving marks whilst grabbing one of your breasts in his hand. This makes your pussy throb and become even more wet.

“Please let me cum, I need to cum so bad it hurts” you moan with tears in your eyes.

Remus lets go of your hair and pushes on your back making you gasp as you resume your previous position on your hands and knees.

“Good girl,” he says, leaving one last kiss on your neck before he starts thrusting into you hard and fast, making tears fall down your face at the delicious mix of pain and pure pleasure he was giving you.

You can feel your orgasm building up and get even more desperate for relief.

As if sensing this, Remus brings a hand down and starts rubbing at your clit desperate to bring you pleasure, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

It’s so overwhelming that your hands give in and you end up resting on your forearms with your head buried into the pillow as Remus vigorously thrusts into you.

Finally, you fall over the precipice, your legs shaking as you let out a guttural moan. You feel so relieved as your pussy clenches around Remus’ cock.

You can feel Remus’ cock twitch as he releases inside of you, groaning into your ear, his cum warm as he loses himself in your pussy.

You feel so sensitive after three orgasms and want nothing more than to cuddle up with your gorgeous boyfriend but Remus has other plans as he quickly pulls out and flips you over onto your back.

You let out a high pitch whine as he shoves three fingers into your slick pussy and rubs at your still aching clitoris with his thumb.

“Too much” you whine pitifully.

“M’pretty girl can take it though can’t she?” replies Remus through gritted teeth, a droplet of sweat falls down his head as he focuses all of his strength on making you orgasm again.

“Pretty girl can take it” you repeat back. Your head is fuzzy from all of the pleasure and overstimulation.

Remus grins and rubs your clit in quick but effective circles. He works your clit to the point where you’re on the edge of cumming again.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” you moan letting Remus know that you are almost there.

Remus suddenly stops rubbing your clit and slows down the fingers which he keeps within your throbbing pussy.

“Nooo” you whine “please don’t stop”

“You gonna be my good girl?” He asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes! I’ll be your good girl”

Remus resumes his previous actions of thrusting his fingers into your pussy, putting all of the force from his forearm into each thrust.

Once again you feel your orgasm build up behind your navel as your legs start to twitch.

“Please” you moan out

Remus grins up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Please what love?”

You look at him with tears pouring down your face “Please can I cum” you beg.

Remus keeps going for another few seconds before letting out a single sentence “Cum for me baby”

You let go and feel your entire body shake in pleasure as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Remus stops rubbing your clit but keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy.

You try to pull away but are met with a slap to your thigh.

“Hold still” he barks out.

“Too much, too much.” You whine out still sniffling.

“Just one more darlin, I promise,” he says with a slight frown upon his face from concentration.

Remus curls his fingers a bit more so that they brush off of your g-spot every time he thrusts them in.

You feel another orgasm building up inside of you but it feels slightly different.

“Oh” you moan as you feel sparks almost like electricity go through your body.

“Does that feel good love?” He says licking the sweat from his lip before increasing the pace again.

You nod in response to his question, your hands grabbing onto the bedsheets.

You can hear your pussy squelch as the pressure builds. The pleasure is almost too much to handle.

“Please” you beg again not sure of what you're asking for.

“Good girl, cum for me” he pants out as his thumb comes back to rub furiously at your clit.

This topples you over the edge for the last time, your eyes roll back and your vision goes white as your entire body shakes.

You squeal as your legs uncontrollably shake and your pussy contracts around Remus’ digits.

“Good girl”

As your orgasm fades away you start to feel the ache of overstimulation from Remus’ fingers which remain within your pussy. You whine and squirm trying to get away from the fingers, tears falling down your face.

“Shh it’s okay, we’re done now you did such a good job, my good girl.” Remus gently removes his fingers from you and puts them in his mouth sucking all of the delicious pussy juices off of them before sitting back against the headboard and pulling you into his lap.

“Such a pretty girl, you took that so well.” He runs his hand through your hair as he praises you before bringing your face into his hands. Gently he wipes away the tears that have fallen.

“So good” he kisses you on the forehead before bringing you back into his chest.

As you regain awareness of your surroundings you feel Remus’ heart thump beneath your face and the bed beneath you feels damp with sweat.

“Did we really sweat that much? s’not that hot in here.” You mumble into him.

Remus lets out a chuckle before leaning back and bringing a finger under your chin to make you look up at him.

“Sweetheart it's not sweat, you squirted”

Your eyes widen in realisation before you bury your head back into his chest hiding your face from him in embarrassment.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed love, it was so fuckin’ sexy” he says as he strokes your back one more time before standing up and carrying you to the bathroom.

“C’mon baby, let's have a quick bath before bed” he places you on the bathroom counter before walking over to the bath to fill it up.

As the water starts running he starts to mess around with some bottles, picking one up he turns to face you “Lavender?” he asks.

You look up at him whilst biting your lip “yes, please”

He pours the lavender-scented bubble bath in before coming back over to you, he lifts you up and brings you over to the toilet to take care of your business, whilst you do that he leaves the room to go and fetch some towels.

Coming back into the room he switches off the water before walking over to you, he picks you up and brings you over to the bath gently placing you in the tub before getting in behind you.

Your thighs are still trembling slightly from all of the overstimulation, Remus pulls you back into his chest and runs his hands over your arms before kissing you gently on the neck.

“M’pretty girl” he mumbles as he brings his hands down to cup your breasts whilst nuzzling your neck. Remus gently squeezes each breast, massaging them lightly with his muscular hands before stopping to pick up a washcloth.

Remus gathers up some soap and starts slowly washing you down, he starts with your arms so that he can keep you against his chest then he puts down the cloth so that he can put soap on his hands, he gently washes your torso with his hands taking extra care around your breasts.

Remus picks the cloth back up and pushes you forward slightly to do your back, he does so quickly so that he can take you back into his arms as soon as possible. Next, he moves on to your pussy, the water in the tub had been soothing it whilst you were relaxing. Remus brings his hand down to clean it but at the first touch you whine and flinch.

“Shhh darling, it’s okay, I’m just cleaning you up I promise.” He soothes

Remus tries to clean you again and succeeds but you still flinch, tears start to fall down your face at the touch on your clit which has been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry” he holds you in his arms and rocks you slightly trying to calm you down a bit before he tilts your head back to look into your eyes. “I love you” he proclaims before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“Would you like me to do your hair m’love or are you too tired?” He questions with a soft look in his eyes.

“M’sleepy” you mumble as you lean back further into his arms.

“Okay darlin’, I’ll take you to bed in a few minutes” he softly strokes the side of your face before picking up the wash cloth to quickly clean himself.

After a couple of minutes he stops, stands up and gets out of the tub. Remus being the gentleman that he is takes your hand and leads you out of the tub before wrapping a towel around you.

You move to return to the bedroom but he stops you with a hand on the waist, confused and tired you turn around to look at him.

Remus lifts you up and places you on the counter, he rummages around for a minute before coming out with your skincare products.

“I’ve got to take care of you m’love, let me just do this real quick”

Remus gently washes your face before applying your toner and moisturiser all whilst looking into your eyes. His gaze is soft and sweet as it usually is post-coitus a contrast to the burning dominant look in his eyes that he has in the bedroom.

After finishing your skincare routine Remus lifts you off of the counter and carries you back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed.

Remus walks over to the dresser and searches for a minute before picking out one of his T-shirt’s, he throws it over to you and picks out a pair of underwear for himself.

Remus walks back over to you and gets you to stand up, he lifts up the covers on the bed then motions for you to lay down and he kisses you on the head before walking around to the other side of the bed and getting in with you.

Remus pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around you in a warm embrace. You look up at him sleepily, “I really wore you out this time didn’t I?” he chuckles.

“Love you so much” you whisper before leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips.

“I love you too darling” replies Remus fondly.

You rest your head against his chest and listen to his slow breaths and steady heartbeat, you can feel yourself getting more relaxed and sleepy.

The last thing you feel as you drift off to sleep is Remus’ hand soothingly rubbing your back as he holds you in his arms.

Taglist

[howggswouldreact]

💬 🔞 Red Velvet reaction to: their first time with their younger and virgin girlfriend

Warnings: smut

Irene: she always suppressed the desire for you when things were getting hotter. because you are younger, she respected you a lot. even when her hands were the most eager, she tried to control them. but Irene felt like she was going to explode and relieving herself on her own was not the same as being able to have sex with you. you, who was the main reason for the desire she felt, but she respected your time. even more than yourself did.

that's why, while you were kissing on your bed and you removed your shirt, Irene was a little confused and her eyes went up and down from your eyes to your breasts in your bra, her hands caressing your waist.

"It's better if we stop here.", she said, trying to get you off her lap, but you didn't leave.

"I want you.", you confessed. "I'm sure I want to give myself to you like this. I want my first time to be with you."

Irene was a little uncertain and hesitated. but you were more than sure of your decision and wouldn't hesitate. you kissed her heartily and guided her hands over your body until she let them find their way.

each touch and each kiss was filled with the purest love and the way Irene looked at you made you feel not only loved, but also wanted. when she positioned herself on top of you, between your legs, she hesitated again. You took her hand from your hips and guided it to your center. the sensation and your permission were enough for Irene to slide her fingers along your wet extension.

"I'm... in...", she whispered kissing your cheek. "Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop..."

the feeling of a finger inside you had been uncomfortable at first. you felt a pressure and kind of a burning sensation as her finger made its way. when she stopped, it was only for a while, for you to get used to it, kissing your cheek to distract you from the initial pain. but as she moved her finger very slowly, the pleasure it gave you overcame the pain and you knew you would want more of that with her, muuuuuch more.

Seulgi: "Oh, damn... it got hot in here, didn't it?", Seulgi moved away from you on the bed and turned to face the ceiling.

her body was hot, very hot, and she had to think about sad things so as not to let her mind think of things that could heat up her body even more. like you naked, for example. or maybe you moving your hips on hers.

damn.

she had just squeezed your ass under your panties, felt your warm skin against hers, and she needed to control herself. she knew that you had never had sex before and would respect your wishes. even if hers was gigantic.

she closed her eyes and you, lying on her side and facing her profile, thought about how even her smell turned you on at that very moment.

you took her hand and kissed her neck, letting your mouth slide over there before applying a light bite to the same spot. a long sigh came from her soft lips.

"If you want to do it, I want it too.", you whispered, moving your body closer to hers. "Like, I really feel ready. I feel ready for you. You make me feel safe. And... you turn me on so much...", you laughed against her neck, making her shiver.

with your certainty, she kissed you again, the kiss as hotter or hotter than before, you wouldn't know, and with hands in places that had never been explored before. Seulgi was aware that you were younger and didn't have much experience in that, but from that moment on it didn't seem.

Seulgi managed to take you to heaven many times that afternoon.

Wendy: there was nothing more cliché than a trail of rose petals that led to a bed also full of petals. candles in safe places so they wouldn't start a fire. but what could you do? you didn't know how to start that, but you wanted it to be special for both of you. for you, for being a virgin and wanting to lose your virginity with Wendy; and for Wendy, who would have her first time with you. and for both of you because you loved each other and it should be special and romantic.

looking to Wendy's faces expectantly, you noticed the smile on her lips before you felt her lips on yours one more time.

"You didn't have to do all of this..."

"I wanted to do it. I wanted it to be special for us...", you were nervous, naked, and with Wendy above you.

"Regardless of how it was, it would be special because it would be with you, babe. And it was very, very special.", Wendy reaffirmed for you, making a trail of kisses by your neck. "And it was also very, very good..."

you laughed. she laughed along. Wendy was beautiful, shining, her hair tousled and her face flushed. you weren't much different.

"Since it was sooooo good...", your hand slid gently over her right shoulder, making her shiver. "How about if we... continue?"

she raised an eyebrow and gave you an excited smile, kissing the corner of your lips, before whispering:

"I think I can make your wish come true, babe."

Joy: once again, you saw those beautiful eyes staring at you, while the bottom of your girlfriend's face was doing a wonderful job between your legs. it was so delicious the way she sucked you... and she loved doing it. In fact, she was addicted to it, to your taste, which she thought was bittersweet.

you had been dating for a while and, even though you were still a virgin, you had intimate relationships without penetration. pure masturbation is too good and you allowed yourself to enjoy it with your girlfriend.

Sooyoung respected your time and it was you who started these "masturbation sessions", since you didn't feel ready to lose your virginity yet; you felt insecure about being younger, but you felt ready enough to let Sooyoung touch you. she could make you cum easily without penetrating you. and she did it in a "pro" way.

when she finished cleaning your wet sex with her tongue, she lifted her naked body against yours, kissing every part she loved most, until she placed her forehead on yours. but you knew that, although masturbation is such a good thing, it was no longer enough.

"You look beautiful when you cum, you know that, right?", Sooyoung whispered before giving you a peck.

you rolled your eyes, embarrassed.

"How about... you getting... inside of me?", you asked, a little shy.

Sooyoung's eyes took on a different glow against yours. she frowned.

"I'm sure.", you answered the question that you knew was prowling her mind.

her lips merged with yours in a long kiss as you felt her hands over your waist. at the end of the kiss, Sooyoung said:

"Let me know when it hurts, okay?", her brown eyes were filled with a mixture of love, lust and concern.

you nodded.

Sooyoung's touch on you had the utmost care and affection. After that afternoon, your intimacy emerged even more, and those "masturbation sessions" led to loooong "sex sessions".

Yeri: you loved to touch Yeri's body, you loved to give her pleasure and take her to the purest ecstasy of sex. satisfying her was one of the things you loved most. however, even though you touched her and she made it clear that she loved the way you made her cum, the opposite had never happened.

and you thought the problem was on you.

after your relationship was official, in a conversation with Yeri you said that you were still a virgin and had only gone further in terms of sexuality with her.

when you were making out and things went too far, she gave you all the freedom to enjoy her body and, although you haven't had sexual experiences before, you were very good at it, you knew exactly what to do for Yeri to hit her climax.

but that afternoon, when she came on your fingers, you were silent while she was lying on your chest.

"Why don't you ever touch me?", you asked, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean?", she was confused, looked up at you.

"I know I'm inexperienced but... well, when I talked to you about my virginity it was because... I'm more than comfortable losing it with you.", your face took on a reddish tone and so did Yeri's. "Maybe my body doesn't attract you to that point, I don't know... You can be honest about that, okay?"

"Hey!", Yeri sat on your lap and automatically your hands went to her hips. "You turn me on.", she bent over you and applied a kiss to your lips. "A lot. And your body is just so... wow! I was just... I was afraid you wouldn't want to. Whenever you do me, I gather a lot of strength not to let my hands go to your... You know where. But what I want most is to touch you and make you feel exactly how I feel."

"What are you waiting for?", you asked in a whisper, embarrassed but with the desire for Yeri's touch.

she kissed you one more time. and another one. and another one. to the point where you both were so close, caressing each other's bodies, but this time you were Yeri's focus. satisfying you also became one of the things she loved most.

[funnyexel]

Potential Yandere x Abused Fem!Reader

A/n: This is another drabble. I’ve been trying to pass it as a x reader story but I got severely stumped so I decided to still post it. (cause I feel like I did a fantastic job on it) If you squint, you could count this as yandere.

Summary: Basically, the story is about you running away from your twisted household (controlled by your step-mother) to get away from her, as you were escaping you get kidnapped. You soon find out it was your “dead” husband, your step-mother arranged you to marry for money and soon after killed him because he was trying to help your situation. Now he is bent on protecting you and getting “even” with your step-mom...any means necessary.

Warnings: Scars, Mentions of death, Mentions of abuse, Trauma, Slight smut, Mushy stuff. Masterlist Mega List

You ran away. You just couldn't take it anymore. The loneliness and the abuse was killing you from the inside out. Tears burn in your eyes and stain your cheeks. Now caught up in yourself, you neglect to realize the hand over your mouth. "Finally." You managed to let out a few muffled screams before you completely knocked out.

"No one will want a fat, stuck up brat! 20 more!" "Yes, Mother."

Transitioning from low breaths, you awake breathing heavily. "GET OUT!" You flinch at the sudden noise and clashing of objects. The somewhat familiar male voice sighs. You try to shift the bag off your head but fail. "oh right the bag." He snatches the bag off your head. Your head whips to the side, tears smoothly fall down your face. He forces your face to see his. "p-please-" The tears in your eyes wash away and you can see a clear picture of the male. He caresses your cheek. "Y/n~ It's been a while." He holds the back of his neck.

Slowly jerking your head back. You try and gather your emotions. 'Do I want to hit him or kiss him?' You thought. "I missed you." You keep your gaze with him. Blood rushes to your face without your consent. "I guess you didn't miss me.." He falsely pouts. "I did." You whisper. He smiles. "Get off the floor." You get up and realize that you had your hands behind your back for nothing. Looking him up and down, you analyze his tall and muscular nature. Wanting to run up to him and kiss him. You decide to hold back. The thought of him suffering from the lost of touch is funny to you.

Just like how you both were when you were younger. You finally ignore your thoughts and listen to your aching body. Legs trembling, you trip over your weak feet before you could faceplant, he catches you. 'Oh right. Prince Charming waited 3 long years to get me.' Now remembering the horrible memories. He lays you down on a couch and removes your clothes to unveil your undergarments. He uses a med-kit to patch you up. "Your scars have gotten worse." He looks up to you slightly. You look away from him. "Stop staring at me like that."

He chuckles at your annoyance. "Are you hungry?" He briefly stops bandaging you to give you a tray of food. "Eat. If you're hungry tell me. Don't sit here starving yourself." You eat little by little enjoying the food. He moves from your legs to your arms. "What happened to your ring?" He examines your left hand kissing it softly. "I still have it." You reach into the side of your bra and take out the ring dangling on a chain. "Who gave you that chain?" He finished patching you up. Given your silence, he knows where it's from. 

He reaches for your hand to retrieve the chain and take the ring. "I do not want you to have anyone else's stuff but mine." He puts the chain on the table. "You're unusually quiet." You turn away. "W-where have you been for three years?" You glide your hand over his tattoos and bold muscles. He gently takes your left hand and holds it in his, to place the ring on your ring finger. "Trying to get you." He kisses the ring and clutches onto your hand. "I-I thought...y-you w-were...I s-saw."

Tears stream down your face unexpectedly with the whirlpool of emotions. "Dead." You couldn't hold yourself back from his touch anymore. You launched yourself into his arms and fit into his lap perfectly. He softly whispered reassuring little nothings in your ear. His voice soothes your uneasy state. "You'll be safe with me. I promise to you that you will never go back, ever." You clench onto him harder, making small marks into his skin through his clothes.

"I-I need- have um-" You stutter causing your cheeks to heat up. He rubs your shoulder as a comforting gesture. "I...I've realized, over the time apart and grieving. That I-" You choke on your unspoken words but manifest the strength to hold his cheek and gaze deep into his eyes. "I love you. I thought that I realized too late and looking at this second chance. I was second guessing whether to tell you or not. But I wanted you to know." Slowly leaning in, a half a breath from his lips.

You close the gap, placing your soft lips on his and sluggishly parting your lips. 'His eyes are closed.' You thought studying his facial features. Whilst tracing your slender fingers over his godly jaw line. He got casted out of your trance, pulling your waist into his. Thirstily matching his lips up with yours. You felt déjà vu and a stinging sensation on your thigh. But it wasn't painful, it could never be painful from him. It was a stinging of coldness turning warm from your touch.

Your bottom lip felt wet. Very wet. He was asking for permission to your wonderful mouth. You opened your mouth for him without a second thought. Feeling his heavy palm trailing from your waist smoothly to your neck. Gripping hard but soft never wanting to let go. Your body shifted to straddling him and your hand stopped awkwardly waving in the air and rubbed along the hand holding your thigh. Applying warmth to his upper arm and bicep. You moan breaking the kiss, throwing your head back due to his icy touch up your back. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. "I love you too." He says between deep inhales and exhales. "You're always so warm." He buries his head in your shoulder, both his hands covering your back. "And you’re always so cold." You chuckle and shiver under his touch. Rapidly blushing, realizing you're only in your panties and bra.

You wiggle in his lap trying to reach a piece of clothing. But he holds you down with his heavenly grip. He lifts his head from your shoulder, blush lightly dusting his face. "Are you trying to get something out of me?" His muscular voice echoes in and out your ear. You hesitantly shake your head. Thinking about what he said you notice your sitting near his groin. He moves his hands around your back attempting to capture all your warmth. "Shirt." You gaze into his night black eyes.

A sweater is draped on your back with little to no movement. He sits up and puts your arms through the sleeves, then zipping up the sweater. Shivering at the new warmth, he places a kiss on your nose then mouth. You smile and touch your nose. He lifts you off his lap and onto the couch. "Stay in here. I'll be back." He gets up and looks over himself in the mirror. Seeing you staring at him from the couch with a slight pout. "Don't let anyone see those pretty panties."

Never taking your eyes off him, your cheeks redden and you push down the sweater to cover your underwear. He snickers at your actions, swiftly leaving the room. Your eye falls back to the mirror. 'This is really happening.' You thought. One song was replaying in your head, sex by eden but only one particular part of the song. 'Oh no, I think I'm catching feelings.' And you know you already told him you love him but it felt like you were catching feelings all over again. The statement from the man became distant as time passes by, or you became very bored very fast. Either way you got up from the couch, wobbling on your feet. You stare at yourself through the mirror. Dark circles having a long term stay underneath your eyes, big lips being temporarily present on your face, light hickeys being displayed on your lower chin and neck, and light tears burned into your cheeks. You rub away the tear marks with the oversized sleeve.

His sweater was sizeable to your body. It hugged your body perfectly but all the while drowning you in the sweater. Doing some more walking around. You come across a nicely framed photo of you and him. You remembered that like it was taken yesterday, if you recall correctly his sister took that picture. You were sitting in his lap, assembling a puzzle together but he was getting frustrated so you decided to take over. You laugh at the bubbly memory.

'I look so focus on the puzzle meanwhile he buried his face in my hair.' You slightly blush and put the picture back. You go to his desk and sit in his chair. "woaah~ this chair is so comfortable." You lie back into the chair and spin it, making sure not to mess up anything on his desk. "how long is he going to take?" You groan feeling extremely lonely. Listening closely, you hear the sound of a train, the speedy move of the train smoothly moving on the noisy tracks. As if they hit a bump on the track your body falls out the chair.

You turn over rubbing your knees. Multiple footsteps meet your ear range. Looking around, you quickly crawl underneath the desk slightly hitting your head on the way in. "ouch." And a squeal leaves your mouth before they busted in the room. "If this is just your bad hearing, we're gonna be in a lot of trouble." A strong woman voice exclaims. "I heard something fall. I swear." A male croaked back to the female. "Everything in here is bolted to the floor. Get out his office before he catches you." Someone chimes in and the footsteps fade out the room.

You left out a shaky breath and rub your head. 'I'll just stay under here.' You thought to yourself and nodded. In silence, you thought about what you would do about your still existing problems at your old home. Even though, you wanted to forget. You couldn't risk him getting hurt or worse. "Hey, where are you?" His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You knock on the inside of the desk and his footsteps approach you. He crouches down and looks at you curled up into a ball under the desk.

"what are you doing under here?" His soft tone flutters your heart and blesses you ears. As he extends his hand you eagerly take it and he pulls you out the dark space. He guides you to the couch and sits you down. "Here." He hands you black leggings. Getting up, you put on the pants and look up to him. "Promise." His hands meet your waist and lightly rubbed the sides. "Promise, what?" He chuckles looking down to you. "Promise you won't get killed."

You stare at him with solid eyes and spoke with a serious tone. "I promise to you I won't get killed." He matches your tone. "Pinky promise." You hold out a pinky and wait for him to meet your request. He smirks and holds your pinky with his. Shaking it twice. You let go and hug him, burying your face into his mid-chest. His well built arms circle around you, engulfing you in his body. You stay there until you begin to lose breath. "Accept my promise."

He smiles at you, before you could have a valid reaction, he traps you into a powerful kiss. Pulling your body closer and closer to his. All the while your hands travel to his neck, into his soft dark hair. The kiss was better than before, unrealistic at most. His tongue immediately got access to your mouth, exploring it and violating it. He slowly broke the kiss to trail them down to your neck. You huffed and moaned. Minimally visible air puffs leaving your mouth. He found your sweet spot and kissed it as deeply as he kissed your plump lips. Your lowly moans echoed the office, he gripped your chin and moved it to the side to get more access to your neck. His actions hit a sudden stop, he lifts up his head and plants a peck on your lips. He made you weak in the knees. And by the looks of it you made him the same way. He sat on the couch and patted his leg. You felt like sitting too but held off, to look in the mirror. 

A dark mark visible to the naked eye, was made by him on your neck. You traced your fingers over it in admiration. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes sparkled. His marks did that special thing to you that you couldn't explain even if you tried. Turning back to him you, sit on his lap and rest your head on his shoulder.

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[mythiica]

thigh job | haikyuu

title |  thigh job mini scenarios fandom | haikyuu!! characters | toru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, kentarou kyoutani, tadashi yamaguchi, wakatoshi ushijima genre | smut warnings | sin, cursing kinks | various positions for thigh jobs + added kinks (public sex, dirty talk, mild humiliation/embarassment, teasing, mirror sex, biting, licking, hickeys, edging, hair pulling, kissing, nipple play, manhandling, mild choking (gentle), slapping/spanking) intended reader gender audience | neutral word count |  about 650 words per person / 3252 words total other comments | yum - i did my darnest to make each part gender neutral

    Oikawa’s shorts and boxers drop in record time, falling to his ankles where they won’t get in the way. He pins you against the cold cement wall with his hips and flashes you the most shit eating grin you’ve ever seen. Even in the poor lighting of the gym supply closet, you catch the glint on his canines. 

    He’s ready, are you? 

    “C’mon baby, spread your legs for me like you did last night…” You have no choice but to oblige really. (Defying him would only ensure that he’d wreck you worse than he already has planned. Although this is a tempting offer, Oikawa has practice in less than ten minutes– but that notion has been pushed to the back of his mind now.) 

    Obeying your boyfriend, you swallow hard and slide your left foot outwards more. Happy with your compliance, Oikawa clamps his large hand against your thigh to hold you in place. This is more than enough for what he has planned. 

    Oikawa palms his cock with his free hand before inserting himself just between your thighs. With his nose nestling in his favorite spot below your jaw, he moans softly and bucks his hips back and forth. He drinks in every soft sound you make, whether it is intentional or not. 

    “Hmm…” he hums against your skin. Oikawa’s finger tips dig into the supple flesh of your thighs just like you’ve seen him do to a volleyball before serving. Is the wetness between your legs from his cock or from you? This is a very important question, but you don’t have enough braincells to properly process it because of how good it feels. All coherent thoughts have melted out of your ears and are replaced with the melodious moans Oikawa makes. 

    “Are you not going to fuck me?” 

    Your boyfriend peels back and tips his head to the side. “I am fucking you.” 

    “You’re fucking my thighs.” 

    “Is your hole jealous~? Is it pulsating and begging for my cock?”  

    You should have known better than to say anything to Oikawa, because he immediately found a weak spot to poke at. This masochistic ability makes him an absolute tease, so there is no winning in sight. Oikawa takes handfuls of the backs of your thighs and lifts you into the air slightly. With your back pressed against the wall, you’re not escaping any time soon. 

    The friction is dangerous and makes your breath leave your lungs just about as fast as your soul departs when someone opens the door to the closet. 

    “Who’s going to help me put up the net?” Iwaizumi asks. 

    For a second, you think he’s asking you or Oikawa, but the two of you are hidden just out of view. The corner of the storage racks provides enough coverage that Iwaizumi can’t see you… nor does he suspect anything. 

    Suddenly, your heart is thundering and you’re squirming out of Oikawa’s grip. 

    “Shh…” Oikawa keeps you in places, but cups a hand over your mouth. He’s still wearing that fucking smirk of his, and continues rolling his body. “Behave, angel.” 

    “Make Kentarou do it!” someone else responds. 

    The doors close after Iwaizumi leaves with the cart of volleyballs. Had he looked over his shoulder at any time, he would have surely caught you and Oikawa in the act. 

    You’re about to ask how the two of you will leave now that the team has gathered, but Oikawa nips your skin below your ear. He nurses on the skin there, ensuring that a bruise blossoms for him. The wet sounds are so loud, you don’t know how no one has caught the two of you. 

    “Toru...” you whine, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

    He tips his head up to smile and kiss you. “Are you going to cum just from me fucking your thighs?”

    There he goes using your words against you. 

    “Yes…” 

    “Well good, because so am I–” 

    Iwaizumi holds you in his lap, directly in front of the tall mirror. You’re sitting in the middle of his strong legs, positioned in such a way that his cock fits snugly between your thighs. You can feel the solid muscles of his chest against your back. Every time Iwaizumi moves slightly – shifting to rest his chin on your shoulder, running a large hand across your side, tilting his hips upwards so his cock grinds against you in the most perfect way – he flexes against your bare skin and it feels delicious.

    His lips flutter along your skin, following the curve of your neck as his fingers press down against the bruises speckled across your sides. It’s almost like he’s playing the piano on you, but he’s not that delicate– no, it’s more like Iwaizumi is preparing to spike and is testing the limits of the ball. 

    But, you’re the ball in this metaphor. 

    Small compared to Iwazuimi and completely at his mercy. 

    “Was that a moan I heard?” 

    “Y-Yes…” 

    Iwaizumi takes your wrists in a hand, pulling your arms out of the way. He wants full access to your body without any interruptions. Squirming wouldn’t do, so your boyfriend scoots you closer to the mirror. “Watch this–” 

    He thrusts slowly this time, making sure that the tip of his cock peeks out from in between your thighs. It’s mesmerizing: you watch with a flushed expression as his blushing slit leaks precum before it disappears for a moment. This earns a low moan from the back of your throat as you try to arch your back and grind against his cock. 

    “Are you watching, baby?” 

    You only hum in response. 

    His free hand falls to your crotch, but instead of directly pleasuring you, Iwaizumi rubs his fingers against the slit. He coaxes moans out of himself as you’re frozen watching his beautiful expressions. This is a real treat honestly, seeing as he rarely indulges in such lewd sounds and faces. You’re almost not even mad that he’s only giving you half the attention you want. The heel of his palm stimulates you, but it’s really not enough. 

    Iwa snaps his head forward, and tongue falls from his lips. Breathless, you lock eyes with his as he peers at you from over your shoulder. He makes a point of dragging his tongue across your skin before finding the perfect place to leave another hickey. At this rate, you’ll surely look like a dalmatian when the two of you are done. 

    Another hard thrust and you’re reminded that he’s fucking your thighs. How is he not numb at this point? The man has so much patience, which is both a virtue and a curse. Iwaizumi loves edging you past the point of no return, and today is no exception. Not to say that you don’t enjoy it– but you would be much happier if he just let you cum. 

    “Iwa-channn~”     “What is it, baby? You’re so cute like this, really.” 

    “I wanna see you cum…” 

    His eyes flash open, as if you’ve suddenly slapped him across the face. And he might as well have because Iwaizumi takes this as a challenge, subconsciously puffing his chest out in a dominant display of strength. He pulls your arms over your head, making you stretch and sit up slightly. 

    With a shaky breath, Iwaizumi tenses his muscles and bucks back and forth, bringing himself closer and closer to an orgasm. Your eyes are plastered to the mirror as you watch and let him do whatever he has to in order to cum. 

    It’s beautiful the way he rolls and grinds almost desperately. The next moment, Iwaizumi has your left nipple caught between his pointer and middle finger. You reward each sharp tug with a drawn out moan. 

    “Hajime!”

    He buries his face against the back of your neck as he cums, white painting your thighs and the mirror…

    Kyoutani usually likes to see you with your legs spread for him, but this is one of the rare instances where he’s decided to make you beg for him. Every powerful thrust of his sends you further and further into the mattress, but he’s not fucking you the way you want. 

    He’s throbbing and hard and it feels so good, but you know that the both of you would be much happier if he inserted himself inside of you… There are patches of dry semen on your thighs and fresh precum coating the upper insides of your thighs, but you suspect he’s done this on purpose to annoy you. 

    “Look at me, doll.” 

    Tipping your head back, Kyoutani curls his calloused fingers under your jaw. His dark eyes meet yours, and in a sudden moment of clarity, your boyfriend leans down to kiss you. It’s hot and needy, the way he pushes his tongue past your lips in an attempt to steal your breath. Now, Kyoutani rolls his hips, fucking your thighs at a slower pace than before. 

    This does nothing for the tingling sensation – your skin has long gone numb there, the only thing reminding you that he’s there are the occasional nervous twitch of his cock as it spurts out more cum. The sheets beneath you are drenched at this point, though you doubt it’s entirely wet from just him. He always has this effect on you: making you weak at the knees and aroused in moments. 

    “Hey, pretty, are you going to moan? Or do I have to squeeze it out of you…” Kyoutani’s hand creeps down until he presses the soft curve between his thumb and his pointer finger against your throat just enough to remind you who you belong to. 

    You let out a low moan-mangled version of his name, which he seems to like because he applies a bit more pressure while keeping his eyes on your expression. He’s got his own little slut to try things on, and Kyoutani has an almost unhealthy obsession with hearing you call his name. Something about how you say it so breathlessly… 

    He must have gotten carried away, because you have to tap his forearm. There’s a flicker of sympathy in Kyoutani’s eyes as he removes his hand from your throat. Instead, he lets his fingers trail up your cheek until he laces his fingers in your hair. His hips slow down from the brutal pace, and it’s just enough of a moment for you to arch yourself upwards and kiss him. 

    Kyoutani hums happily. “Baby you’re so beautiful, you know that?” 

    Your heart swells, thinking this might be the moment he decides to properly fuck you. No more of this thigh-job bullshit that’s driving you insane! 

    “Kenta~” you mewl, rocking your hips sideways, “Don’t you want to fuck me?” 

    “Well of course I do.” He gives your hair a sharp tug and with that reclaims dominance over you. “But not yet. I want you horny and at the edge before I take you. You’re also my slut. Remember that.” 

    And back he goes, fucking your thighs like his life depends on it. This time, Kyoutani does more with his hands to keep you entertained: he’s tugging on your hair, pulling you up slightly. It’s a silent demand that you watch as his cock disappears between the flesh of your thighs. Now, you don’t need to be properly told this, because you love the sight of his thick cock and would do anything to see it. 

    He’s not paying attention to your arms anymore, so you drape your arms over his shoulders. “Do my thighs feel good, Kenta?” 

    “Hmm.. yes…” 

    “Are you gonna cum?” 

    He grunts and tries to shake your grip off when he realizes that you’re playing with his hair. It always sends goosebumps down his spine, and as if on cue, Kyoutani shivers. 

    “Fuck– stop doing that–

    “Why? I thought you liked it!” 

    Kyoutani manages to swat your hands away, but not before you leave a lasting impression on him. Heat pools between your thighs again as he groans and lets his head hang. Kyoutani presses his forehead to your chest and inhales slowly to catch his breath. 

    “Well done, doll.” 

    Yamaguchi quickly lost the confidence that momentarily flooded his body. One second, the two of you were lounging on the carpet at the base of his bed, but now he’s got you pressed against the edge. You’re still on your knees though and your back is flush against his mattress. Yamaguchi’s got hands on either side of you, and he’s not entirely sure what to do. 

    He’s a stuttering mess until you place a hand on his chest to calm him. 

    Cupping his face, you whisper: “Shh.. it’s okay. I’ll show you.” 

    Then, dropping your hand slowly, you lace your fingers with his. He takes a slow breath, following your motions carefully. With your free hand, you pull his cock from his shorts and guide him carefully until he’s between your thighs. 

    “Now roll your hips, Tadashi.” 

    “But…” 

    Instead of saying something, you nod your head encouragingly. Yamaguchi listens, letting his body grind against yours. His cock rubs against you, wetting your skin with arousal. He got hard and horny just from seeing your naked form, which was really a compliment. 

    Timid Yamaguchi looks to you for more instructions, tightening his grip on your hand. When you say nothing, he takes the chance to be bold: he palms your ass, bringing you closer to his person. This allows him to buck his hips harder and find more delicious friction. It surprises you, and you’re thrust forward without so much as a warning. 

    It’s such an awkward position: you leaning slightly forward and away from the bed while Yamaguchi is doing his best to balance himself and fuck the space between your thighs. Still, his expressions are beautiful, and they make up for his lack of experience. 

    Despite having turned a bright shade of cherry red, you can clearly count every freckle across his cheeks and down his chest. You want to suck on his skin and leave a hickey there, just a testament to how much you love him. 

    Yamaguchi is faster than you though, and he starts pawing at your ass– pulling your cheeks apart playfully before letting go. Every time he does it, his touch is gentle but you understand well enough that he means business. He’s being rougher than you expected, almost like he’s been holding this in and finally let go once prompted. 

    Was this a secret wildcard he had been hiding in his sleeve? As a pinch server, his job was to catch the opponent off guard. (Not to say that you are in any way his opponent now– Yamaguchi loves you very much, but you can’t help but make the connection now that he’s actually decided to dominate you in some way. Whether it’s out of need and desperation to cum, or some other primal instinct ignited by seeing your body, you’re not really sure. Does it matter? Again, not really.) 

    You can feel his fingertips pressing down into the flesh of your side and the edge of his nails in your skin. Yamaguchi tips his chin down, to kiss along your collarbone. He wants to nip you, but he’s hesitating again. 

    This time, you push his head against your skin, silently prompting him to do it as you roll your hips and award your boyfriend with more pleasure. His teeth graze you gently, but when you squeeze your thighs together tightly, Yamaguchi moans. He spills all over the backs of your thighs, and you’re sure that the sheets will have to be washed after this.

    The two of you are sweating profusely, and Yamaguchi finally lets his hands fall to his side. This gives you the chance to turn and lock your arms around his neck and cling to him, rising with the steady swell of his chest as he catches his breath. 

     Ushijima slips his hand under your shirt, pressing his hand against your torso to keep you close. He’s still warm and wet from his post-practice shower, and conveniently naked– meaning you can feel every rigid muscle of his abdomen. Every body roll is a blessing because his biceps go taunt and you can almost trace the veins in his arms. 

    It’s a shame he won’t let you turn around though because you would love to cup his face and egg him on while he fucks your thighs. Dirty ideas of what to say fill your mind: how big he is and the fact that his tip keeps poking out from between your thighs, how beautiful his grunts and moans are despite his attempts to be quiet– the list goes on, but suddenly his cock slides between your folds. 

    He’s bucking his hips against your ass and keeping you in place, but then readjusts himself back between your thighs. When you give your boyfriend a sad wine, his free hand snakes around to catch your wrist. 

    “Waka-!” 

    Now, he’s thrusting slower than before, as if he doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. 

    “Hm?” he hums in acknowledgement. Ushijima nestles his chin in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent momentarily before kissing your temple. “You said you were too sore from earlier. Has something changed?”

    “What’s changed is that you got hard again, and I can’t resist your moans!” 

    When he laughs, Ushijima’s entire chest vibrates like the absolute unit he is. His hand moves from your chest down to your navel. (They cover so much real estate that it makes you laugh most times, but now the roughness of his fingertips makes you even more aroused despite having recently quite literally had your fill of Wakatoshi Ushijima.) 

    “You have nice thighs…” 

    “Don’t try to sweet talk me now!” 

    The truth is, Ushijima could be an absolute angel, but you know the truth that he’s an absolute sinner that fucks better than the devil. You’re sure that he’ll have you crying his name in no time. 

    With a huff, you press your fingers at your thighs and rub his tip when it peeks through. The first time you do this, Ushijima exhales sharply, obviously surprised by the new stimulation. His shaft might be going numb, but the cold sensation of your fingers spreading the precum across his skin makes him absolutely giddy. 

    His grip begins to tighten, a telltale sign that he’s really close to unravelling. The moan is hanging in the back of his throat, you can even hear the build up–

    Therefore, it’s the perfect time to lift your thigh and ruin his orgasm. 

    Droplets of white dribble down your inner leg, but it’s not nearly as much as usual. The man trembles for a moment before clamping his hand down on your leg and pushing it down quickly. He’s back to fucking your thighs, but this time keeps them in place to ensure he’ll finish. 

    “Don’t be a brat,” Ushijima whispers against the curve of your ear. 

    The words raise goosebumps across your skin, but you don’t regret it in the slightest. “What if I did it again?” 

    At this point, you know he’s going to leave some bruises. Ushijima grunts again and gives your ass a loud smack, making you gasp. It’s a swift spanking, and the sound barely has a chance to echo. His hand flies through the air again and collides with your thigh this time. It stings for a moment, distracting you from misbehaving again, and giving Ushijima a chance to spill semen all over you and the sheets. 

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 3/3 Notes:

Thank you so much for reading and going along on this journey. This 3 chapter AU took me more time to write than any of my other fics, I really stepped outside my comfort zone with this as I prefer to write original stories and struggled with an AU based on something everyone knows and loves. I haven't liked every word, but I grew to love the tale and I hope you did too.

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 3: The Book of You

“Well now that you’ve put her out of business, I wonder if she would come work for me? She’d be an excellent children’s book editor.”

Killian made a snorting sound, “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t work for anyone associated with me.”

“I think I’m going to offer her a job anyway.”

“She wouldn’t be good for you; she lacks that killer instinct you like in your employees. What is it you always say, never apologize as long as you win?”

“Like you’re one to talk, you’re just as insensitive as I am, I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” She complained, punching the button on the elevator to their floor. “The only reason I have the chance to hire her is because you put her out of business.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s insensitive now?”

Killian internally groaned, watching the numbers on the elevator move slowly as Milah droned on beside him. Emma would never work for someone like her, she could never be as cutthroat as he had seen Milah behave. She wasn’t like her, or for that matter, him. Emma was a rare breed.

The elevator jerked violently to pull him from his thoughts, lights flickering on and off as it came to a shuddering halt.

“What the hell!” Milah yelled as the other occupants in the elevator began tapping on the buttons.

“I’m sure it’s just a technical issue.” He offered reassuringly. Milah pulled out her phone, dialing and waiting impatiently for someone to answer. He leaned against the wall, smiling at the woman with her young daughter. “They’ll get us out shortly, no need to worry.”

“No one is answering, how incompetent do you have to be to not know how to pick up a phone?”

“Milah, it’s possible there was an electrical outage that affected more than us, I’m sure the phone lines are busy.”

“I’ll be putting in my complaint to the city.” She squealed and Killian pushed himself down toward the floor, sitting on the ground and removing his jacket.

“I’m sure they’ll be awaiting your call with bated breath.” He grumbled to himself. “Shouldn’t be long, someone will come and get us out.” He announced to the group. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Three hours later and Milah was testing his nerves. He had expected her complaints to die down once the air in the elevator had gotten thicker and harder to take breaths, but it seemed to only intensify her anger.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to call my daughter and apologize. I haven’t spoken to her in 3 weeks, and I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” The man beside him spoke to no one in particular. Killian smiled at the man; it was a lovely sentiment.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to apply for that job I’ve been scared to be rejected from. Even if I don’t get it, at least I will have tried.”

Milah jumped in, “When I get out of here, I’m going to get Botox.” She announced, staring at herself in her hand mirror and pulling at her skin. Killian rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what he was going to do when he got out of here.

“When I get out of here…” He began.

“Do you have my gum?” Milah interrupted and Killian exhaled, reaching into his jacket beside him to pull out his gum and toss it toward her. The moment was gone, but the second he left the elevator he did exactly what the moment called for. He told Milah it was over between them.

She barely gave up a fight, as he gathered his items, promising to return to pick up the rest of his stuff, and taking Smee out the door with him. Killian didn’t care, he was just happy he could stop pretending. He realized in that elevator that his and Milah’s relationship had always been pretend. He dated her because it was the next logical step in their relationship, they moved in together because that’s what you do when you’ve been dating for as long as they had. She was in the book business, she had contacts that he used selfishly for his own business, and beyond that they had nothing else in common with each other. It was over before it had even begun.

Killian sat down in front of his computer, he wanted to talk to Emma. She was the first person he thought about when faced with what he was going to do once he left that elevator. He needed to come clean to Emma, tell her who he was. But he knew that once he did that, it was all over. She would never speak to him again. But maybe, maybe if she got to know the real him, the real Killian Jones, maybe he wouldn’t lose her.

JR10: Tonight, I got in the elevator, something I do every day. Three hours later I got out of the elevator and Smee and I moved out of my shared apartment. It was like the smoke had cleared and everything just made sense to me. It’s a long story, full of all those little details we don’t share about ourselves, maybe one day we will.

~*~

Emma stared at the screen in front of her. He had been living with someone. She couldn’t be angry; she had been doing the same. She understood how he was feeling though, the smoke clearing. It was exactly how she felt with August. Like the world just opened to her and suddenly she got tired of playing the game. She just wanted to be happy and clearly she hadn’t been.

Lonelygirl: Change is a funny thing isn’t it? It’s like dominoes. One little thing changes and suddenly there is this chain reaction and when you look up everything around you has changed. Six months ago, when I met you online, I knew exactly who I was, what my life was going to look like, and where I would be for the rest of my life. Now I know nothing. My store closed this week. I haven’t told you I owned a store, but I did. It was a beautiful little bookstore that my mother had when she was alive. And maybe I held onto it so fiercely because it was my way of keeping her alive, but either way, it closed and I’m heartbroken. It’s like my mother has died all over again and there’s nothing anyone can do to make it right.

Emma walked down the street, looking up to see the Jones Books logo staring down at her, mocking her. She bit her lip and walked up to the door, yanking it open forcefully as if somehow her strength was going to topple the entire building to the ground.

She marveled at the size of the inside, stairs leading to a second and third floor, lights hanging in every corner, large comfortable chairs full of patrons sitting together, reading books. The place was full, she’d never seen so many people in a such a large space before. The registers were full of customers purchasing armfuls of books. She climbed the stairs slowly, stopping when she saw the children’s section.

It was a marvel, bright, colorful, with stuffed animals lying around for children to play with. She sat down on a large bean bag, tears falling softly down her face.

“Do you have the shoe books?” A woman asked one of the employees standing a few feet away from her.

“Shoe books? Who’s the author?” Emma rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know the author, my friend just told me that I need to find the shoe books.”

“Neal Streatfeild. The author is Neal Streatfeild, he wrote all the shoe books.” She announced to the pair as the tears started to come faster. “I’d start with skating shoes, though ballet shoes are just as beautiful.” She said with a snort, looking up to see them staring at her with a tentative look of concern. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and stood up, quickly exiting the building.

~*~

Killian stared at his computer. Sadness overtaking him at her words. He really was the bad guy.

“Cora and I are over.” Killian looked up at his dad.

“So soon, you just got engaged.”

“She was dating the nanny.”

He burst into laughter. “Well, that makes up for you leaving Kristen for the nanny.”

“No, Kristen was the nanny, I was with Kelly at the time.”

“Ah, so many, I lose track.”

Killian turned his attention back to his computer.

JR10: I’m so sorry about your store. I don’t know what else to say that doesn’t sound trite and inconsiderate. I hope that you will be alright.

He sent the message, but he felt sick inside.

“How’s the store? Business must be booming, and I heard that the children’s book lady finally closed.” His father poured himself a drink. “You met her; do you think she would date me?”

His father handed him a glass and Killian sighed. “On to the next, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

“Father and son, back together again.”

Killian could hardly believe that as much as he tried to not be like his father, here he was living on his boat, parked on the slip right next to where his father was currently hiding out in his. Father and son, indeed.

The next few days he went in search of a new apartment, checked in with Belle at the store, and waited anxiously for a reply from Lonelygirl. When he had heard no response from her after a week, he decided to reach out again.

JR10: Why haven’t you written back? Are you alright?

When Emma didn’t reply, he walked to the store, checking in to make sure that everything was going as expected for the new store. Business had taken off in the past week, Belle had made a very important hire, bringing in Will Scarlett from The Golden Swan to run the children’s book section.

After Killian had observed Emma in his store, listened as his employee was unable to assist a customer, he challenged Belle with the task of bringing in the best department head she could find for the children’s section. Will may not have seemed like the best option for customer services with his dry wit, his sour attitude, or his arrogant behavior, but when it came to children, the man turned into a new person. He told stories, acted out the parts, played the different voices, and children flocked to him. He was a rare find in their world.

When he returned home later that evening, he found a new message from Emma.

Lonelygirl: I’m sick. I can’t stop sneezing, my ears are clogged, my nose is blocked. I feel terrible. I haven’t left my bed in days. The worst part is that all I can do now is sit here and think about my life. Who am I kidding? What life? What am I going to do now?

Killian groaned, if he felt worse before he felt terrible now. He had ruined this woman’s life. And now here she was feeling like she had no future. He caused that. She was a bright woman with a bright future, and he needed her to know that too.

He jumped up from his chair, rushing out the door.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the brick apartment, staring up at the windows above him. This was a risk, but he needed to take it.

~*~

Emma lay in bed, sneezing for yet the fifteenth time that hour. She felt terrible. She closed her eyes, trying to find sleep when the buzzing forced her eyes open. “Oh God, not now.” She groaned, pulling herself up from her bed and stumbling through the apartment. The sound buzzed again, and she put her hands to her ears. “Please stop doing that.” She moaned. Pressing the button to the intercom.

“Go away.” She yelled into the box.

“Hi, Hello. This is Killian Jones.”

Emma stood back from the door like it shocked her. What the hell was he doing at her apartment?

“Go away.” She repeated. She had no idea what that asshole was doing at her apartment but whatever it was, it wasn’t a concern of hers.

“Can I come up?”

“No that’s a terrible idea. I’m sick, I haven’t been sleeping, I might be contagious so I would really appreciate it if you…”

There was a loud knock on the door she was currently leaning against. She jumped at the sound. “Hello?”

Emma stood back from the door. Killian Jones was standing outside her apartment. She looked around the room, scattered used tissue paper littering every surface, blankets draping the floor and chairs. She ran around the room, gathering items in her arms, tossing garbage away as fast as she could.

“Emma?” She heard his voice on the other side of the door. She looked down at the pajamas she was in and looked around anxiously for anything to cover herself up with. Reaching for the closest item she could find she wrapped the long coat around her and tightened the belt before reaching for the door.

Opening the door, she came face to face with her worst enemy, holding a bundle of flowers. “Why are you here?”

“I heard you were sick, I wanted to check on you.”

Emma stared at him, open mouthed. This was a new development, she didn’t think empathy was a trait of his. “You put me out of business. Are you here to gloat or offer me a job?”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He announced, stepping into her apartment, and slipping past her into her living room.

“Hey!” She said, spinning around and following him. “I’ll have you know, I already got offered a job by your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend actually.” He offered and Emma narrowed her eyes in his direction.

“Oh, what happened?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, that’s terrible you two seemed perfect for each other.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She did it again. Said something really awful just to hurt someone. That wasn’t who she was. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that it was really mean. I’m not like that, but every time I’m around you…”

“I know, the words just fly out of your mouth.” He offered with a laugh.

“Yes actually, but I’m sorry. Thank you for coming. But I think you should leave.” She opened the door and tapped her foot.

“I brought you flowers.” He said instead of walking out the opened door. He held them toward her, a beautiful array of snowbells. “Do you have a vase?” He turned and walked back through her house, wandering off toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” She argued, chasing him through the house.

“They need water, you should sit down, you’re sick.” Emma stared at him dumbfounded. What the hell was this man doing here? She sat down lazily onto her couch, staring toward the kitchen to see if she could see the man who was currently invading her life. He stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway, “Did you know that Will came to work for me? He’s a great kid. He’s the one who told me you were feeling sick. Did you know he has a PHD in children’s literature?”

Emma nodded absentmindedly and mumbled to herself. “Of course, I knew that.”

He returned to the room with the flowers and Emma smiled at the large bouquet of beautiful buds that almost lit up the room. “When did you break up?”

“What?”

“With your girlfriend, when did you break up?”

He put the flowers down, quietly speaking. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“Everyone is breaking up recently. This other person I know broke up with his girlfriend in an elevator. Or outside one or near it, something. It was stuck. And then everything was clear.” She said, her mind hazy. “When I saw you that night, at the restaurant, he’s the one I was waiting for and I was…”

“Enchanting.” He said almost reverently which caused Emma to snort.

“I was not enchanting, I was mean, you said it yourself.”

“Well, you looked enchanting” He said, before turning back to the kitchen and rummaging through her cabinets. “Tea?”

Emma nodded, “Top cabinet on the left.” She mumbled, blowing her nose into the tissue in her lap.

“Well, I was upset that night. And I was really rude.”

“I was the rude one, love.” He replied, handing her a cup.

“Yes, but I have no excuse.” She grabbed the flowers, the tea, and her blanket and walked toward her bedroom.

He followed her, “Whereas I am a horrible human being and thus have no excuse but to be rude. Correct?”

“No that’s not what I meant.” She said before sneezing violently. “I’m done being a mean person, even to you.” She crawled into her bed.

“But I put you out of business. You’re allowed to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She sighed.

“But you’ll never forgive me.” He added with an almost sincere expression on his face, to the point that Emma almost believed that he felt sorry for ruining her life. She knew that was ridiculous because Killian Jones was a ruthless businessman, he wasn’t sorry for doing his job.

“You don’t care if you get my forgiveness or not.”

“It wasn’t personal.” He said softly.

“It was business.” She laughed. “What does that even mean? I’m so sick of it. All it means is that it wasn’t personal to you, but it was personal to me. What’s wrong with personal?”

“Nothing.” He added seriously.

“Exactly, if anything, it should at least start as being personal.” Emma shook her head, “My head is fuzzy, I need to go to bed.” She crawled into her blankets. “Why are you here again?”

“I thought maybe we could be friends.”

“You are crazy.” She laughed.

“I know, I guess it was too much to expect. Can I ask you something?”

“Well, you’re here aren’t you.”

“What happened with that guy from the Café?”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?” He asked, a look of hope in his eyes she didn’t understand.

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you run off with him? Start a new life with this lucky man.”

Emma frowned. She knew she was about to sound completely stupid. “I don’t actually know him.” He smiled at her, and Emma was waiting for the retort. “We met…” Don’t tell him Emma. “You are going to think this is ridiculous.”

“You met him online.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

He pulled the blankets up to her chest, a move that suddenly felt very personal and warm. “Well, I’m happy for you both. But I think maybe you should meet him, love.”

She laughed nervously, “I don’t think I need to take advice from someone who…”

His hand slipped against her lips, and they immediately tingled from his touch. “I’ll save you from saying something else you’ll regret.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he pulled it away. “Get better, Emma.”

She stared at him dumbfounded. “Uh huh.”

He smiled, his blue eyes shining down at her and causing her stomach to make unexpected flips. What was happening to her? It must be the medication.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” She repeated as she watched him retreat from her apartment and shut the door.

~*~

Killian couldn’t stop thinking about Emma as the days went by. He had almost given up hope that his words to her at her apartment had fallen on deaf ears when he got the message two days later.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think maybe we should meet.

He smiled. Now he just needed to work on his relationship with her. Get her to know the real Killian Jones before he told her he was JR10.

JR10: Of course, we will meet, but right now I’m in the middle of a project that needs…tweaking.”

It’s showtime.

He left the house ten minutes early, taking the route that would get him to Starbucks. He stood in line, keeping his distance from the blonde woman at the front of the line. When she turned to face him, his mouth dropped in fake surprise.

“Emma?”

Emma stopped, “Killian?”

“How funny running into you here. Do you come here often?”

“Just every morning.” She laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Weird, I come here every day too. Funny how we’ve never run into each other before. You look like you’re feeling better.”

She smiled. “Yes, much, thank you. Well, I should…”

He nodded, “Yes of course, nice seeing you.”

He ordered his drink and walked slowly past the table she was sitting at. Looking around he mumbled to himself. “It’s always so busy in here. Nowhere to sit.” Looking down he made eye contact with Emma and she sighed.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you. How have you been?”

“Great.” She said shortly. “I’ve started writing a book.”

“That’s wonderful news. How’s that fellow of yours? Have you met him yet?”

She looked down at her newspaper. “No.”

“No? What’s stopping you?”

She exhaled loudly. “He said he’s working on a project that needs tweaking.”

“Tweaking? What does that even mean?” He paused. “I bet he’s married.”

Her mouth dropped. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Of course not, how do you just ask someone if they’re married?”

“Pretty sure you say, are you married?” He laughed.

When he got home that evening, he found a message from Emma that made him smile.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been meaning to ask, are you married?

JR10: How could you ask me that? I thought we knew each other better than that. Wait, are your friends telling you that I’m probably married?”

That evening, after conveniently running into Emma at her favorite diner, he casually brought up her internet friend.

“So, he didn’t answer the question?”

Emma paused and then put her hand to her mouth. “I guess he didn’t, did he?”

“Maybe he’s fat.”

“Killian!” She exclaimed. “I don’t care about that.”

“You don’t care that maybe he’s horribly disfigured or walks with a limp. Maybe he spits when he talks.”

“I highly doubt that.” She snorted.

“Why else would he be taking so long to meet you? Maybe he’s…” He opened his mouth and then closed it.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Killian, what?”

“What if he’s waiting until he gets out of prison.”

“Oh stop. Will already thought he was a murderer.”

“What’s his username?”

“I’m not going to tell you his username.”

“It might help tell who he is.”

“Fine, JR10.”

“What kind of a name is that?” He huffed.

“Maybe it’s his initials.” She offered.

“Or how many tons he weighs. Just Round 10 tons.” He teased and she burst into laughter. “Or how old he is! Maybe you found a technological genius who is 10 years old.”

“Could be an address or a location…” She laughed. “No that would be stupid.” Killian tried not to choke on his coffee. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I mean besides being married or in prison, the only other deal breaker is the boat thing.”

“Boat thing?” He inquired.

“I could never be with a man who has a boat.” She said simply.

“I have a boat.” He said, his tone serious. “So that settles it.” She looked at him with confusion. “We’ll never be together.” He met her gaze, not breaking the contact.

“So, what is the book about?” He asked, changing the subject.

“It’s a children’s book, I know this editor from the store who wants to read it as soon as I’m done writing it. You know, JR10, he was the one who really made me think about writing.”

“You mean Mister 10 felonies committed before age 24?” he teased.

“More like Mister 10 ways into my soul.” She said almost lovingly, and he felt the desire to reach across the table and kiss her. “It’s weird how much we’ve been running into each other lately.”

“Wanna run into each other say, tomorrow, round lunch time?”

“Sounds great.” She said with a genuine smile.

Killian thought about Emma his entire walk home. The way her hair glowed bright with the sun shining on her, or how her eyes were the perfect shade of green. It was becoming harder to fight the urge to kiss her each time he saw here. He needed to tell her who he was, soon.

JR10: How about meeting me tomorrow? 4pm. The park on 88th. Where the flowers bloom in the garden and the path curves. You’ll find me there.

~*~

Emma stared at her computer. She was finally going to meet him. A part of her was excited, the other part of her was feeling something else that she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d been focused so much on meeting this man but between those moments she had formed something of a friendship with Killian Jones. It was a friendship that somehow she had learned to value.

He had offered her advice on her book, some to talk to about JR10, and in the times when they were together, a companionship that she had been missing. It was like he understood her better than anyone she had ever known before.

They were meeting for hot dogs for lunch, she was happy for the distraction from her nerves of meeting JR10later that evening. Killian would know the right thing to say to her to calm her down and prepare her for this meeting.

“Today?”

“I know right? This afternoon.”

“That’s very exciting, I bet he’s the clock maker on 82nd. You’ll never need to have your clock fixed again.”

“Stop. That guys like a hundred years old.”

His mouth grew wide. “That’s it, he’s 10 centuries old.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” She bit into her hot dog, ignoring the way he was watching her. Lately he had been looking at her with a feeling that was almost akin to want. Which was ridiculous but also gave her butterflies for some reason.

“He was smart. He waited until you were certain there was no other man in your life that you could love.” She glanced at him and nodded but then he set his hot dog down and stared at her, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “Sometimes I wonder…”

“What?” She asked anxiously, feeling like whatever he was about to say was important.

“If I wasn’t Jones Books, and you weren’t The Golden Swan, and we met…”

“Don’t do that.” She interrupted.

“I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have waited until I got home to call you. I would have asked you out for drinks, dinner, and your every desire, for as long as we both shall live.”

“Killian.” She warned.

“And then we wouldn’t have gone to war, and I wouldn’t have put you out of business.”

“Killian, please don’t.” Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I need to go.” She couldn’t be standing here listening to Killian saying these words to her, not now, not when she was finally getting to meet the man of her dreams.

“How come you can forgive him for standing you up, but you can’t forgive me for this tiny little thing of putting you out of business.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, how I wish you would.”

“I need to go.”

“You don’t want to be late.”

She turned away from him quickly, practically running down the sidewalk to put space between them. She needed to stop herself from turning around and kissing him.

Fleeing the scene, she returned to her home to prepare for her date with JR10, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Stepping out onto her sidewalk, she practically skipped to the park, she was about to meet the man of her dreams, the man who knew her better than she knew herself. Her soulmate.

She arrived early, taking her time to wander through the park, admiring the flowers, trying to embrace the nervous feelings currently building in her stomach. She stood on the path, where the curve bent around the park, adjusting her dress nervously.

“Smee.” She turned quickly, looking in the direction of the voice. A dog came bounding toward her, his leash dragging behind the pup. She bent down to pet the runaway dog when he came into view. She knew it, it was the only thing that made sense. It had to be him. He was her soulmate.

She stood up as he approached her, tears slipping from her eyes. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his chest. “Don’t cry lonelygirl.”

She looked up into his eyes. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it so badly.” He smiled and her heart melted as his lips touched hers.

Two lonely souls, Emma and Killian, had found love in the middle of a war over books.

[whyamiinopmhellagain]

How Dateable are the Heroes of One Punch Man?

A note, I know these kinds of things are not the only factors that make a relationship successful, but they are large ones. This is simply my take on it. 

They are all rated on a scale from one to ten. If they receive a zero, they are considered undateable for reasons that cannot be fixed through emotional growth. 

Also, this is pretty lengthy. Be warned, and happy reading!

Hit the Lotto (8-10): 

King (9.5/10): King, in my opinion, is the most dateable hero. He’s a genuinely good guy. He also seems to have a lot of common interests, such as anime and gaming, which makes him pretty chill to get along with. He’s a homebody, which means if you get close to him, he’ll want to spend more time with you, and doesn’t mind having quiet moments. In fact, I think he enjoys them more! King is not excessively arrogant, and doesn’t appear to have attachment or trust issues. He really just wants someone to love him for being him, and not for living a lie. The fear of him getting exposed, and being surrounded by the press will probably be frequent worries in the relationship, but in both cases, it seems to be protected by King’s luck powers, and the fact that he doesn’t go out much. If you can deal with those, and help him with the anxiety that comes with it, you’re golden for a happy, healthy relationship! 

Mumen Rider (9/10): Awww, look at you! You hooked a sweetie pie! He’s kind, morally strong, good hearted, and hardworking! He will not hesitate to shower you in kindness and love. He does not seem to have any attachment issues, or trouble with building trust and a healthy relationship. The major issues of this one are he’s constantly getting hurt, so you’ll never know when he’ll be in the hospital, and he’s pretty much always working. The first one is counteracted by his indomitable spirit, and how devoted he is to making the world a better place. He also would very much appreciate if you’d visit him in the hospital, and even more when he’s discharged, and still needs a little extra care (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.).The second one’s counteraction is with the fact that when he cares about something, he cares hard. If he loves you, he’d totally work to shell out those extra minutes for you, if you’re willing to do the same.

Saitama (8.5/10): This relationship is very similar to King’s! They both have the same, “we veg, we read manga, play video games and stay indoors” mentality. The same pros as King. The reason he’s ranked lower is because of very obvious depression, that is slowly getting better, but I doubt will fully ever be cured (the price he paid for his training), and there will be people breathing down his neck. If you want to be with our egg, you have to check with the toaster first. He’s very close with his Sensei, and Saitama makes it a priority to make sure he is safe and happy. Fubuki may also interfere as well, but she’s most likely no threat if you mean that much to Saitama.

Tanktop Master (8.5/10): Honestly, this man is so wholesome. The only reason he’s lower, is because we don’t know too much about his personality.  He’s strong, kind, and an excellent leader! No obvious arrogance or aggression, and seems to have the ability to just talk things out with people, I realize this relationship would also have the “always having people over” thing. Except much more active.They work out, run, wear tank-tops, and have group gatherings all the time! If you’re extroverted, and like to make friends, you two will fit perfectly! He may. also have some insecurities about his skill level. Be sure to comfort him with a warm hug, because he really is a strong boy. 

Darkshine (8.5/10): Remember what I said about Tanktop Master? Same applies to him. Wholesome, but unknown. He may have more strength and power, but his ego is much more fragile. He may need some comfort from time to time, and I’m sure he’d be happy to take in a hug and some encouraging words from you! He seems to have the ability to form healthy bonds, and build trust quickly and safely, which is necessary to a happy relationship. Overall, seems like a good time for both of you! 

Zombieman (8/10): Odds are, this is going to work out. That is, if you can break down the massive emotional barriers he’s built up. While he seems pretty chill, he knows something. He knows that everyone he loves and cares about is going to die before him. He distances himself from almost everyone, simply because he doesn’t want to be put through that pain. I feel like he’s experienced it before. Unless he starts to care about you, and when he cares, he cares HARD. He’ll be in it for the long run. If you can take the time and effort to get to know him, maybe, just maybe, he’ll invite you over for dinner with him and Child Emperor. It will grow from there, maybe he invites you over, just the two of you, watch a movie, and sit on the couch. (Personal headcanon of mine, he’s got Child Emperor, and he loves taking care of him. Maybe when he leaves the nest... he’ll want to raise one or two with you?)

Won’t be the best, but not the worst (5-7): 

Metal Bat (7/10): He’s a tough boy with a heart of pure gold! He fights very passionately for what he believes in, and won’t let anyone stop him! Except Zenko. If you want this teen’s (please remember he’s young) heart, you’re going to have to go through her. You’ll also have to be okay with the fact that most of his time is going to be devoted to taking care of her, and she’ll be around you two 90% of the time. He needs someone who can give here that sibling affection, like having a second parent. He also needs someone who can be his IQ, and his books smarts. Help him with his homework, take notes for him in class, or help Zenko study, (It probably will be a good way to win her over too), it will be very much appreciated. Also, be sure you are someone who he can be a kid with. He’s 17, and has to act like an adult. He needs time to take a break, drop Zenko off with someone, and go sit in the streets at night and eat ice cream while you both watch the street lights. Somedays, he needs a shoulder to cry on from exhaustion with his job, or panic about the future. Badd’s going to need you to help him grow. He’ll be loyal and happy with you, you just have to be patient with him, his overload of responsibilities, and his sister.

Fubuki (6.5/10): I hope you like your women in charge and powerful, because that’s what you’re going to get. She’ll be with her group, making deals and looking for more underlings. You won’t be her first priority. Don’t try to hit on her, unless you’re a higher rank than she is. Otherwise, you’re going to have to catch her attention the hard way. If you even manage to get her to see, acknowledge you, and like you, you’re not even halfway done. You have to go through the Blizzard Group. If you pass that, you must pass your hardest test, the association’s secret weapon, Tatsumaki. Older sisters do worry, and intruded. She just wants to protect her precious little sister. If you can win her over, then you have secured a necessary piece for Fubuki’s heart; she values her sister’s thoughts more than she lets on. but those people will still be there to protect her. She needs to be the strong one, because softness is a weakness. Or so she’s been taught. You’ll need to get her to open up a little. You’ll see that she has a soft side. She frets whenever Eyelashes or Wild Monkey get beat up, and buys Lily a scoop of ice cream whenever she gets a high score on any test. That doesn’t mean she’s not the leader. She wants to wear the pants in the relationship. She’s the breadwinner.  Show her how strong she is, even when she isn’t large and in charge.  If you can do that, her group will notice a difference in the way she carries herself. She’ll be a bit lighter on her feet, and have more courage to take on higher level missions by herself. She’ll be pretty tough to break into, but not completely impossible, if you know how to do it. (Side note, thanks to @metalbatandzenko​ for helping me with this one!) 

Pig God (6/10): He’s mostly just here because of mystery. We don’t know pretty much anything about him, other than he’s a good guy who likes to eat. We don’t know anything about his dark side, or what he truly values. He has been seen to be helpful, and dedicated to his job, which gives him points, but not enough to make him rank higher.  

Atomic Samurai (5.5/10): I feel like he’s not the first person anyone would go after. He’s aging, he’s busy, and can get quite arrogant. His disciples are like his kids, and if you want to be close with him, you have to go through them first. You must be good friends with them, you’ll be seeing them quite often. I see him as someone who’d want to keep his hero live and private life separate. Sure, he’d introduce you to his disciples and Silverfang, maybe take you to a party or too, but other than that, he’d keep you out of the loop for your own safety, so he won’t be around too much. He just wants someone to share a futon with. Maybe make him some dinner, and talk about regular stuff. Not everything has to be about fighting. Sometimes, he just wants someone to drink tea and meditate with, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Silverfang (5/10): He seems like a good, respectable guy. However, he’s 81. The only reason I could see someone dating him would be for a sugar daddy, because S-class makes that coin. As good as a guy he is, odds are, it’s not going to last very long. 

Yeah, this most likely won’t be healthy (1-4):

Amai Mask (4/10): This relationship seems like every fan’s dream at first. He’s tall, rich, famous, and has a great set of abs. The courting phase to his partner will seem heavenly, as the world’s biggest superstar showers them with attention. He woos them gracefully, until he deems you safe to let into his life  good enough arm candy. He’ll keep you for as long as he needs you, but still treating you like royalty in front of the cameras. In reality, he will just be throwing you under the bus for his work, and trying to cover the wounds with his money. If you (understandably) hate the treatment, and confront him about it, he’ll just tell you to leave. If you put up with it, he’ll throw you out when he needs the coverage. He just has to hope he doesn’t fall for you. He can’t let you see what lies underneath. You fell in love with Handsome Kamen Amai Mask, not [Webcomic Spoiler]. 

Genos (3/10): I don’t see this happening now. That kid is traumatized as hell, and needs to learn to cope. Losing everyone and everything is hard, which makes him cling to what he has. Right now, he’s clinging to Saitama, and coping with his past in an unhealthy way. While he is compassionate, kind, and courageous to a fault, he isn’t emotional ready to give his heart away just yet. Maybe in a couple years, when he matures and he either gets his closure on the Mad Cyborg situations, or accepts it, deals with his grief, and moves on. 

Flashy Flash (2.5/10): Yeah, no. If we’re talking about trauma, this dude just doesn’t want to accept the fact that he has it, or he knows it, and is too scared to ask for help with it. He’s arrogant, emotionally distant, downright cold sometimes. The only reason he’s higher than Tatsumaki is because I feel like he’d want a relationship in the future, if he actually admits that he needs help, and needs to let go of the past. Then, and only then, can he open himself up to other people. He’s not ready yet.  

Tatsumaki (1/10): This girl has emotional issues, is controlling, has extremely high standards, and a shit ton of trauma that all needs addressing before she enters a relationship. Also, she doesn’t cares about those kinds of relationships that much. She’s very take, and never gives. Odds are, she doesn’t want you or anyone in her life. She has a job to do, and that’s what she’s devoted too. 

Why would you? (0/10):

Watchdog Man: He’s a dude that acts and dresses like a dog, and doesn’t leave his post. That doesn’t sound super appealing at all, but to each their own, I guess.

Child Emperor: This should be obvious. 

Puri Puri Prisoner: If this guy likes you.....RUN

Drive Knight: Are y’all evil Cyborg fuckers? 

Metal Knight: He has no sympathy, empathy or compassion. He’s old, and he has a tiny dick. Why?  

-----

This post went in so many different directions. Anyway, please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, I love hearing from you all!

*Requests open! Unedited*

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 6

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa clusiana ~ A delicate tulip that resembles a pale star, shining in the indigo expanse of the night.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

You coughed.

Actually... coughed.

A sound had been pressed from your slightly agape mouth. While Levi would have preferred it to be words or an utterance of consciousness, he would take what he could get. He didn’t know if it was pathetic that his heart swelled with happiness at the occurrence.

“That’s it, my Y/N.” He praised and stroked your cheek affectionately.

“Oma-” Levi yelled, his call rising in strength as the newfound name left his lips. A harsh clanking followed by rapid footfalls against the stairs brought your grandmother into the room with Felicia hot on her heels. Her chest fell with heavy breaths and her housekeeper looked as if she was prepping herself to slay a dragon.

“She coughed.” Levi stated. He allowed a rare unfiltered grin to spread across his features. Oma looked from him to you and soon her alarm blended into a smile of her own.

“Maria, Rose, and Shina boy you almost gave me heart palpitations.” Oma grumbled but the warm look never left her face as she padded over to you. She held her hand above your mouth and felt the steady breaths on her skin.

“That’s such good news!” Felicia said with clasped hands.

“Indeed. Her body is slowly regaining some normality.”

Oma lovingly gave your hair a few strokes before turning to Levi. She gave him an unusually sweet grin and he grimaced at the strangeness of it.

“You should smile more. It suits you.” She mused smugly. The upturned corners of Levi’s mouth comically went slack at her comment.

“Come have some tea with me. Felicia won’t let me in that damned kitchen without pecking at my ear. So we’ve been banished to the living room.” She added with a flick of her wrist. Levi gave you one final glance and followed her down the stairs. When the two of them had reached the main hallway, a rapid thudding from the front yard stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh, it better not be that goddamned wolf again.” Oma hissed and reached for her shotgun. With disregard for her slipper clad feet she stormed out onto the porch. Levi jogged out behind her, almost bumping into her as she undid the safety on her gun.

“Wait!” Levi shouted and preemptively put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from cocking her weapon. She halted with his grip but raised the barrel of her shotgun to her eye.

“Damn, It’s that cursed horse.” She sighed and put the safety back on her weapon, propping it up along the siding of the house with a frustrated movement.

Your horse was absolutely deflowering whatever poor tulip that fell under his hooves. He would gallop in one direction, head swinging and tail cutting through the wind, only to playfully buck up and then zoom away in the opposite direction. His obsidian coat absolutely contrasted with the flourish of bright colors that nipped at his hooves. It was the most Levi had seen him run freely in his life, and to be honest it was kinda beautiful. He had no fences to confine him or HQ pastures to deprive him of this endless botanical ocean. The creature that he saw before him now was a world away from the sad one he took care of yesterday. And Levi was at least glad for that.

“Well how the fuck did he get out? Did you forget to lock the stall door?” Oma seethed, waving her hands in frustration and hobbling down the porch steps. She looped around to the side of the house, where tethering poles were located and grabbed halter and lead rope to catch him with.

“I did lock it but that never stops him.” Levi exhaled, absorbing her well-earned anger as he followed closely behind her. She mumbled sweet nothings about humane euthanasia and turning him loose to be a wild horse until she stopped at the edge of her field.

Noticing he had company, your horse slowed his aggressive drifting to a halt and watched the two attentively. His nostrils flared with his excited breathing and the three beings held a staring contest within the gentle chroma of petals. Taking his stillness as an invitation to come get him, Oma carefully trudged between the rows of flowers. However, she did not get far, for when she got within a reasonable distance he suddenly snorted and skittered to the side, destroying even more of the crop.

Oma snarled and began stomping over more aggressively while being mindful to step around her moneymakers. For every one step she took in his direction, your horse trotted about four feet away and stopped, as if taunting her to come in further and destroy even more plants.

Levi watched nervously from the main path. He decided it was time to jump into action when Oma managed to get within range of looping the lead rope and halter around his neck. Your horse suddenly delivered a powerful kick that if she hadn’t deftly dodged would have clocked her right in the ribs. Oma cursed in simmering frustration.

“Stop, you’ll get hurt!” Levi called, mindfully stepping through the field and grabbing one of her arms to stop her from advancing. “Let me try.”

He gave Oma a determined look to which she grumbled and surrendered him the halter. Levi approached the animal calmly to only be met with the same snotty behavior. He closed his eyes in annoyance and heard your giggle ring through his mind.

He loves it when you talk to him, see?

“You don’t have to freak out stupid.” Levi told your horse, noting the nervous giddy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I called you a little shit yesterday, Puddle.” Levi continued through monotone gentleness and advanced slowly. Oma shook her head in disbelief.

“Am I watching a play about a princess right now? Are you going to start talking to the flowers next?” She huffed. Levi shot her an icy glare over his shoulder. Puddle snorted and eyed Oma as if in response.

“Apologize.” Levi turned to her with his default blandness. It was time Levi got back at her for all her incessant teasing.

“...Pardon?” She spat. “You think that bastard will comprehend?”

“Y/N says he understands what she is saying so; apologize. He won’t let me catch him until you say you’re sorry.” Levi was trying to hold back a smile and Oma’s perturbed features.

“Believe me, no one thinks it's more ridiculous than me.” Levi added.

“Maria, Rose, and Sina fuck me.” She mumbled before standing her ground, unamused.

“I’m sorry I was rude to you..uh-what did you just call him?” Oma started.

“Puddle.” Levi stated.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Oma furrowed her brow in thought.

“She named him after her pet frog.”

Oma exhaled and shook her head once more.

“Puddle.”

His ears perked up at the mention of his name. Levi eased himself closer and there were no more protests from Puddle besides a few anxious paws at the dirt.

“I hope he didn’t cause too much damage.” Levi sighed as he reached up to buckle the halter around Puddle’s head.

“Not significantly, just more weeding for me now.” Oma chuckled dryly. She fell into step with Levi when he exited the field.

“Of all things why did she choose such a cutesy name for a warhorse?” Oma wondered aloud. Levi almost laughed at the memory her question drudged up.

“She received him when she graduated from the cadets. It was rainy that day. When he was brought out to her, he immediately laid down and rolled in a muddy puddle. The brat got all dirty and she laughed when he shook mud on everyone.”

The smile that graced Oma’s lips held as much vibrancy as her flower crop. That kind of look seemed to take over her features every time you were mentioned.

“Put him in the pasture instead of the stall, he can tear up my grass to his heart’s content.” Oma instructed when they got to the front yard. Levi nodded in confirmation.

“And meet me inside after, Felicia should be done with dinner by now.”

Levi let out an exhale that puffed his cheeks as he stood in the yard for a moment, gathering his bearings. He looked over to Puddle who was munching away on the grass, acting as if he hadn't a care in his life.

"You're always going to be a pain in my ass huh?" Levi mused aloud as he jerked on the lead rope.

↞♞♘↠

Another droplet of sweat slinked its way down the side of your face as you heaved yourself up from the dirt.

“Good job Armin!” You praised the boy who gasped for air. “Your technique is improving.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. I still lost.” He laughed nervously as he graciously took your hand and let you pull him up from where he laid on the ground. You clicked your tongue in disapproval.

“In sparring matches it doesn’t matter who ‘wins’, it just matters if you improve your skills. The true winner is the one who comes out of whatever situation you are faced with alive.” You assured, boosting his confidence with an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He replied with a more confident grin.

“You’ve gotten so philosophical since you became a squad leader.” Jean commented with a hint of snark.

“Someone needs to be the brains of this operation. I’m definitely second to Armin.” You lauded at the shorter boy and he blushed.

“Even I'll admit we’re at the bottom of that totem pole Jean.” Connie snickered and Jean scowled.

“That makes me the brawns then?” Jean questioned rhetorically. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness and Mikasa snorted from her place on the fence.

“You also didn’t beat me in our sparring match.” You countered playfully.

“You just said that winning doesn’t matter.” He quipped back.

“That doesn’t apply to you.” You teased and stuck out your tongue.

Jean was about to counter attack when Sasha butted in.

“Yo, Y/N. Captain Levi and Eren are back.” She said between bites of her fries she had stolen from the leftovers of today’s lunch. She nodded behind you and you turned to see them walking towards your group. Since the incident with Annie and the devastation that befell the special operations squad, Erwin decided to combine the talent of your squad with that of the remaining members of Levi’s squad. Thus you became joint squad leaders. You usually trained all together as one unit but when Levi worked with Eren one on one, you were left with Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, and Sasha. You looked down at your watch.

“It is about time we’re scheduled to be done anyway, see you guys later!” You grinned with another successful sparring session coming to a close. The mob of scouts moved out after they had said their goodbyes, absorbing Eren on their way back to HQ. Levi nodded at the group in a silent address when they passed them.

“Hi.” He greeted when you came to stand in front of him.

“Hey, enjoy the show?” You teased and casually fixed where his collar had blown up haphazardly.

“Mhm. I love watching you kick other people’s asses.” He replied with a hum as he craned his neck to give you better access.

“Someday if you’re lucky, I may even kick yours.” You winked and he huffed.

“You don’t have any plans tonight, right?” He asked, confirming you had the evening open for him. You shook your head.

“Nope, you told me to free up my schedule.” You beamed. Levi smiled softly.

“Good. I have a surprise.” He stated simply. The way your eyes bugged out of your head caused him to chuckle fondly.

Surprise? Levi? This was something rare.

“Follow me.” He instructed with a smug half grin. He led you to the stable where his horse was already tacked. Dandelion, as you had named her after her flaxen coat, had a flannel blanket secured to the back of her saddle framed by saddle bags filled to the brim.

“I couldn’t get him, as usual.” Levi sighed and you giggled in understanding.

“Be right back.” You said with a gentle hand on his arm as you passed. You re-emerged from the pasture a few minutes later with Puddle in tow.

The ride through the forest was blissful. Levi led the way through the lush grove of trees, the warm chroma of the fading sun’s tendrils breaking through the canopy and nuzzling into his dark locks. Your ride took you not too far from headquarters and soon you found yourself face to face with a lovely sight. Before you lay a pond; ducks flapped about in the cattails, crickets harmonized along its edges, and the water sparkled in the waning daylight. You dismounted Puddle with your mouth hung open in awe.

“How did you find this place?” You almost whispered, too enamored with the little cove framed by towering pines. It felt like a secret spot. Your secret spot.

“I was on my way back from one of the outposts and came across it. It’s...nice isn’t it?” Levi explained as he dismounted and began unraveling the blanket. He snuck a peek at your amazed expression and felt himself swell with warmth.

“Yeah, it’s wonderful.”

Levi walked over to the large grassy area and flicked the blanket open and let it fall flat onto the earth.

“How can I help?” You asked, still oblivious to the purpose of this excursion. Not that you were complaining. The inner romantic in you was squealing in delight.

“I’ll do it, go check out the pond for a bit.” He smiled with a nod in the direction of the water. Leaving the horses to graze near the entrance to the clearing you trotted down to the water’s edge. It had been so long since you had been in such a natural space. It reminded you of the big lake in your village where Oma would take you and Jean fishing as kids. You were being lulled into a state of relaxation by the gentle ripples of the water when Levi’s call brought you back to reality.

“Ready.”

When you regrouped with him, the fruit of his actions manifested a grin that was so wide it hurt your cheeks. The blanket was adorned with two plates and a basket full of delicious smelling food. You couldn’t contain your excited grin as Levi patted the spot next to him.

“Did you make this?” You asked in shock as Levi served you grilled salmon and a warm roll.

“Yes.” Levi chuckled at your continued amazement. You took the plate gratefully and smiled when he reached for a thermos you knew had to contain tea.

“By yourself?” You pressed. He side eyed you as he poured you a cup. He blew on it once and passed it over to you.

“I...had some help.” He confessed.

“One of the cooks?” You guessed as you grabbed a fork and napkin from the basket.

“No, surprisingly. Erwin.” Levi stated as he took a sip of the tea. Your eyebrows furrowed in astonishment.

“No fucking way, Erwin cooks?” You chortled. You pictured Levi struggling with the stove and being corrected by Erwin who stood watch over his shoulder. Your happiness was contagious and Levi began laughing too.

“I was shocked too.” He smiled genuinely and hoped you could see how warm you made him feel in moments like these. In all moments, really.

Your meal was enjoyed with your usual playful banter and discussions of your days.

“So what’s the occasion for all of this?” You finally asked when you had both finished eating and tidying up. It wasn’t your anniversary, it wasn’t either of your birthdays. It wasn’t Puddle’s birthday either. (Yes, you indeed celebrated that.) Levi cleared his throat in response. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest of roses. His uncharacteristic bashfulness had you practically vibrating with anticipation.

“It’s uh, the day that you first told me you loved me.” Levi declared with a tenderness to his tone that he rarely expressed. Your heart threatened to burst from your chest as it filled past its brim with pure affection.

“You remembered the date?” You asked, tears welling at your eyes at the touching confession. You remembered the time as vividly as if it had happened yesterday but not the numerics of the day.

Levi nodded and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. The devotion that burned from every essence of his being radiated onto you with such a heat you would have surely melted into pure love without his hands holding you.

“Y/N, I know I’m the king of shit when it comes to expressing my emotions. But if there is one thing I want to be good at expressing, it's my love for you.” He professed with a passionate kiss to just under your jaw.

“I want to make sure you know how enough you make me feel, how much life you have breathed into me.” He continued, his voice straight out of a confectionary. He reached up to kiss your forehead.

“I can’t think of myself without thinking about you. I’ll save the self depreciation because I don’t want you to hit me.” He smirked and you huffed happily through your incoming tears. His kisses trailed to your cheeks, effectively curbing the salty stream.

“I’m working on saying it more. You make me feel loved every moment of my life and I need you to feel that way too.” He stated with velvety purpose. This time his lips touched upon yours and you molded into his embrace as if you were two droplets of water from the nearby pond.

“Levi…” You exhaled between kisses, too overcome with emotion to say anything other than his name. For his name was the source of your greatest happiness and you cradled it close to you always. He took the opportunity of your speech to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You moaned at the closeness as Levi gently pushed you back onto the blanket.

“I love you, Y/N. Infinitely.” He whispered to affirm all he had confessed previously. His eyes held yours with such a desperate desire that you equally matched.

“And I love you, Levi. Always.” You returned. Your wandering touch down his torso transferred thousands of unspoken professions of love into his being. When he pressed his body down to yours, you swam in his palpable admiration.

Soon your pleasurable shrieks were spilling from your throat with the sporadic intensity of firecrackers. With every deep thrust, the fuse lit, exploded, and relit again, sending you into an endless loop of ecstasy. Levi’s next thrust hit you in just the right spot to spark electricity and you let out a passionate moan that echoed off the trees. You yelped and moved to cover your mouth, only Levi was quicker. Walls forbid a patrol heard you.

He pinned your hands over your head as he continued to move against you. Removing his mouth from your neck, he regarded you with lustful intensity. His pupils were dilated and locked onto your blissfully contorted features with eyelids heavy with raw pleasure. His lips were swollen from endowing you with praise and it was enough to send a jolt of arousal coursing through your figure.

“Don’t. I want to hear you. We’re far enough away that only I’ll hear your sounds.” He cooed just before a husky moan parted his lips as the roll of his hips grew more fluid. You obeyed his wish and blessed his ears with another erotic cry as his hands smoothly traced down your neck, over your breasts, down your sides, and came to squeeze at your hips. The grasp gave him more leverage and you felt yourself seeing stars when you bucked your hips to match his movements.

“Levi I’m close-”

“Fuck, Y/N. Me too-” Levi groaned, the pleading tone you used to speak his name sending him over the edge. As the wave of his orgasm crashed into him, he was so mesmerized in the way your back arched into his hips, the way your hands feverishly grasped at the fabric of the blanket, and the way your supple breasts bounced with every pump, that he almost forgot to pull out.

What happened in the next moment, though, made that choice for him. A resounding thud at his side ceased his movements and he pulled out of you in alarm. You both whipped your head in the direction of the intrusion. Before you could even register what was going on, Puddle rammed Levi in the torso with his head and sent him stumbling backwards.

“Levi!” You squeaked and scrambled to get between him and your raging horse. Holding your hands out in front of Puddle, you stood protectively over Levi who was still recovering from the sudden flight.

“Hey, hey! I’m fine. See?” You gently called to him. He stamped his hooves a few times anxiously before falling under your calming aura.

“I’m fine sweet boy.” You assured and reached out to take his head in your hands and stroke his nose. Hearing Levi curse under his breath behind you, you tried to contain your laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

“Are you alright, Levi?” You asked with a guilty bite of your lip. He glared up at you and your puffed cheeks from stifling your amusement. He was only annoyed for a moment before the two of you cracked up in unison. He shook his head and got up.

“Yeah. He just knocked me over.” Levi replied, his irritation washing away the moment he regarded your curves accentuated by the caress of the moon’s rays. Levi rose and moved to your side. When he got within proximity of his hand ghosting the curve of your lower back, Puddle pinned his ears and snorted. Levi jerked his hand back.

“Oh fuck you, horse.” He spat and glared at the animal. You giggled once more and tethered Puddle to a tree next to Dandelion. A shiver raked your body at the loss of Levi’s vigorous body heat as you padded back over to your love nest.

“You better be fucking me, captain.” You ordered with a viscous sweetness that slid right down Levi’s throat. You lied down on the blanket with your legs pressed together. You shimmied your hips in a sinful rotation that had Levi twitching with arousal at your forefront request.

“It’s unfair you got to cum and I didn’t.” You pouted suggestively.

“It is poor manners to leave anything unfinished. But I have another idea.” He purred. The ethereal view you had of your lover from this angle made you gasp. The puff of air that left your lips released all the boldness you had mere seconds ago into the atmosphere. Heat bloomed on your cheeks at the view that convinced you for a split second you had to have been in a painting. The indigo twilight bathed him in a pale argent aura that only elevated the silver shine of his eyes as they regarded you as if you were the only living being within these walls, within the world itself. He wore the light of the moon as a cloak that kissed his muscles and ivory skin. He was like a fallen star that had just tumbled into your lap.

From your lap, Levi gingerly spread your legs. He spared one more cautious glance towards your horse before nipping at your plush thighs. Where he bit, he followed with an open mouthed kiss that felt like you were being touched by the wing of a butterfly. While his kisses were extraordinarily soft, his hands were not so. They pawed at the flesh of your upper thighs and journeyed to your ass to squeeze. The combination of pressures was driving you insane .

“Levi-” You whined when his hot breath tickled the top of your core. He flicked his eyes up to meet your wonton expression. His charged gaze stayed cemented to you as he dipped down to languidly lick your wetness. When he tasted your sweetness, Levi let out a syrupy moan that vibrated against your clit and reignited the fireworks. Your thighs squeezed together in euphoria, locking his head in place. Your excited spasm delved his tongue into your slick opening and stole any coherent thought from you. He momentarily broke from his ministrations, rising from you with lips glossy with your juices. He licked them tantalizingly slow and you whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, princess, because of our interruption we are just getting started.” He hummed in satisfaction before diving right back into your intoxicating taste.

[lustinglilac]

Pressure

A/N: In which Nurse!Y/N finds herself in a compromising situation when the love of her life is lying on the stretcher.

Warnings: angst, near death experience, blood, fluff at the end, GSW= gunshot wound. 

“Code GSW, code GSW.” The voice over the intercom spoke as she rushed to the scene, not once did the idea run through her mind that it would be him in that stretcher.

Rounding the corner with three different types of gauze paddings, she halted to a stop as she saw Maggie’s familiar face pacing back and forth. If Maggie was here that meant— surely, it couldn’t be true. She refused to believe it.

Handing the gauze to a paramedic, she looked over the shoulder of a fellow nurse hesitantly. Her heart nearly stopped, the room felt like it was spinning, the ringing in her ears picking up as the blood pooled out of his thigh drenching the floor and stretcher.

“Y/N! We need you to put pressure on the thigh!” A colleague yelled out to her, her voice being drowned out by the chaos going on around her.

Her feet moved on their own as she stood closer to his left thigh, putting on her gloves shakily and pressing on the wound that penetrated his skin.

“Omar, stay the fuck with me.” She whispered, tears blurring her vision, she applied pressure before tying an elastic band on his upper thigh as the paramedic cut his pant leg.

“Baby—“ He managed to murmur a word to her, labored breathing cut short as he saw her face above his. Had he died? Was he in heaven?

“Stay with me, please—“ She cried as she took a quick look at the monitor attached to him, his heart rate dropping dangerously low.

“He’s losing too much blood, we can’t—“ Just as the machine beeped signaling a flatline, his brown eyes closing immediately.

She looked down at her blood soaked gloves as Maggie came to her side, trying to tear her away from the dreadful scene as paramedics and nurses did their job to prevent him from dying.

“Let me do it! Let me save him!” She yelled, with all the strength she could muster she pushed the paramedic beginning to do CPR aside, straddling her boyfriend’s waist on the stretcher.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...“ She counted to herself as she let her tears fall onto his exposed chest. His chest recoiling with each compression yet his eyes remained closed. She continued doing CPR the way she was taught, not once faltering.

“Move, move, move! AED, everybody be on standby!” Another paramedic’s voice boomed throughout the hallway. Continuing to do her job until the paramedic put the shock paddles on his chest. She got off of his body, her own body numb, scrubs covered in his blood as the machine charged up.

“Clear, everybody clear!” Shock.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...” Another round of compressions until he got shocked again.

“Clear!” Shock.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...”

“Clear!” Shock.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...” She worked around the defibrillator pads, finding the perfect rhythm once more.

“Last time, everybody clear!” Shock. His body jolted to life, lungs filling with air that he couldn’t quite fully grasp.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Sobs wracked her whole body as she threw herself over him, his heart beating slowly but surely under her palm.

“Y/N, Y/N, let go. We need to take him to the OR.” A nurse spoke to her cautiously as she finally composed herself and let them wheel him off without another word.

“I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to see that—“ Maggie breathes out as she turns to the young woman covered in OA’s blood.

“Maggie, how did this happen? Oh god.” She cried even harder as she saw her distressed face.

“Why don’t we go sit down, okay?” Maggie hums softly as she lets a passing nurse know that her friend needed a break for the time being.

“I need to go change.” She whispers, tears rolling down her face silently. Maggie nodded quietly and let the fragile girl lead her up to the locker room.

The elevator ride was quiet, apart from the occasional sniffles coming from her as Maggie stood a few feet away breathing heavily.

She changed rather quickly, wiping her clogs of dried blood and washed her hands for what felt like the fifteenth time that hour as Maggie waited in the lounge room patiently.

“You feeling better?” Maggie stands up, pulling her friend into a comforting hug.

“Not really but, I don’t have a choice do I?” She pinched the bridge of her nose trying not to cry again. They both sat down in the uncomfortable lounge chairs as they waited to be called down to the recovery room.

“He’s going to be okay. If you know OA, you know he refuses to die. Okay?” Maggie laughs lightly as she, too, cries for the first time that night.

“Okay. He’s going to be okay.” She encouraged herself to think positive thoughts as it was her turn to comfort the agent across from her.

•••

Three hours later, she had finally gotten the call that he was out of surgery. She gathered up her belongings and headed downstairs with Maggie right by her side.

The doors to the floor opened, her feet taking her straight the recovery room, through large corridors and twisting hallways until she reached the double doors where the love of her life was recovering.

“Y/N, hey, it’s nice to see you! We’ve been taking good care of him, he did great in surgery.” Irina, an OR nurse who she’d become close to, informed her.

“Thank you so much, Irina.” She smiles as best as she could as she washed her hands before getting to his bedside, Maggie following suit.

“Hi, baby, how are you?” Her voice coming out shakier than she wanted it to. She reached out to hold his hand that didn’t have an IV in it.

“Better now that you’re here.” He spoke groggily as she laughed that melodious laugh that he fell in love with. Maggie watched the interaction from further back, letting them have their moment.

She brought his knuckles up to her lips, holding them there, she couldn’t believe she was even holding him right now when mere hours ago she’d almost lost him.

“I heard you saved my life.” He smiled weakly, eyes never once leaving her face. She rolled her eyes playfully and thought back to how she jumped onto the stretcher.

“I wasn’t going to let some other man or woman be all up on your body like that.” She joked and for the first time in those few hours, she’d heard him laugh genuinely and she’d felt alive all over again.

”I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispered against her knuckles as she shed a tear. This one was a happy tear though; she was happy to have him and he was happy to have her.

Tags: @detectiveinchicago @ginghampearlsnsweettea

[justcourttee]

I Won’t Try Again-Pt 32

Marinette was fighting for her life, the vine creatures swamping her, wave after wave.

“C’mon Beloved, we can make it out. Just push a little further.”

She couldn’t see the man but at the sound of his voice, she felt herself surge with strength. Row and row of the vines fell until she was standing knee deep in their bodies.

“Well down Marinette. I believe this calls for a celebration.”

Turning, she came face to face with a handsome man, his green eyes glistening with pride as he cupped her cheek, pulling her forward. Their lips were a centimeter away when a piercing pain knocked her backwards. Tears formed, sitting at the edge of her lashes as she looked down to find a vine sticking through her chest. Her eyes traveled back to meet the man’s, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Hold on shortie, Don’t die on me now.”

A dark haired woman appeared, helping the girl lower herself to the ground. Marinette tried to ask her what was happening, but it was as if someone had stolen her voice, only whimpers of pain escaped her mouth.

“Marinette. Marinette! No, no, no, please don’t go.”

She felt the warmth as the woman pulled her into her lap, her tears hitting Marinette’s forehead. Fear coursed through the girl as she felt the life slowly draining from her.

“I don’t want to die.” It pained her to talk, but it seemed to be the only thing she could say.

“Beloved, it’s too late. Just let go.” The man appeared once more, offering his hand to the woman, pulling her from the ground and into a hug. They both turned away, leaving the girl alone in a pile of vines.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

“Honey, please wake up. You’re scaring me.”

Marinette darted awake, gripping her chest, a sob tearing through her room.

“Oh, baby. It’s just a dream, you’re okay.”

Sabine gathered the girl’s shaking frame into her arms, allowing her tears to soak her night gown.

“It felt so real Maman. I thought I was gonna die.”

Sabine stroked her daughter’s hair, trying her best to get the girl to calm down. After she had revealed her double life, the woman was always sure to stay on alert for these night terrors.  Marinette’s phone buzzed softly on her pillow, causing the girl to pull away to reach for it. Looking at the time, she frowned, putting the phone to her ear.

“Alya?” Her voice was still shaky from the dream, but it began to fill with worry. It was three in the morning, something had to be terribly wrong.

“Marinette?” The tears were obvious in the girl’s voice, Marinette could hear Alya choking back her own tears as she waited for an answer.

“Are you okay Alya?”

“It’s really you, oh god, Mari-” She cut herself off again, her crying becoming louder and choppier.

“Alya, Are you at the apartment? I’m coming over right now.”

She shared a knowing look with her mother as she moved to climb down the ladder. Alya didn’t respond, her crying turned into sobs, so loud that it surprised Marinette that neither of the boys were woken. Slipping on her shoes, Marinette gently woke Tikki, opening her bag for the kwamii to fly into.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 5.”

She didn’t hang up as she pulled her mom in a tight hug, promising to be home in time for dinner.

“Marinette, Honey?”

“Yes Maman?”

“Happy Birthday Baby”

Marinette flashed her a smile, blowing her a kiss from the doorframe.

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

In no time, she found herself in front of her best friend's apartment, unsure as whether to knock.

“Alya? You still there? I’m standing outside.”

She heard some shuffling from the other side of the door as her phone line went dead. Slowly the door creaked open, Alya’s red eyes peeking through the crack.

“Alya?”

The door flew open as the girl crashed into Marinette.

“It worked, oh my god, it worked. You’re here, you’re really here.”

Her tears soaked the girl’s shoulder, crushing her in a tight hug. Marinette tried to rub her back in a comforting manner, she was clearly wasted, it had to be the only explanation.

“Let’s go inside, okay?”

Alya nodded, loosening her grip. Marinette made sure to close the door, locking up, before turning back to face her friend. Silent tears still fell from her eyes, her smile borderline hysterical as she grabbed Marinette’s hand, pulling her onto the couch with her.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I didn’t think it would work but here we are. It’s your birthday again.”

The designer shook her head, giving Alya’s hand a light squeeze.

“Alya, what are you talking about?”

The girl gave her a cautious look, pulling her knees into her chest.

“Marinette, I need you to keep an open mind here. When I told Nino, he brushed it off to only being a bad dream, but it’s more than that. It actually happened, I’m sure of it.”

It was Marinette’s turn to give the girl a cautious look as she nodded. With a deep sigh, Alya pushed her glasses up her nose, looking at the ground.

“You died Marinette. I saw the vine pierce your chest, I held your dead body, I watched the life drain from your eyes. You died.”

Her eyes began to water again as she choked on her sentence. Marinette opened her mouth, but Alya shook her head, swallowing hard before she continued.

“I know how it sounds, but it happened.  Your birthday passed, you took a job in Gotham that I secretly applied for, you met your soulmate, Adrien met his, you became Lady Rouge and when we attended the Gala near the end of your six-week trial, a Gotham Rogue attacked and you sacrificed yourself to save your soulmate.”

Her breathing was slow and laboured as she tried to avoid breaking down again.

“Alya,” Marinette tried to keep her voice level, she really didn’t want to set the girl off again. “If all that happened, why don’t I remember it? How am I sitting in front of you?”

“Sass! The kwamii said it wasn’t sure how far back we’d get sent, just that you would be alive! They also said some of us would lose all recolation of the account, which is why Nino doesn’t believe me! I promise, ask Tikki!”

The kwamii flew from Marinette’s bag, a perplexed look on its face.

“Alya could be right Marinette. I feel like something is unbalanced, like the time stream was messed with. Something new was created, a second chance.”

“But that would mean, the universe would take someone else in place of me, to keep the balance?”

The kwamii shook its head, a thoughtful look passing it’s face.

“Not necessarily, not with Sass’ ability. There is always a balance to the universe, but Sass’ scale is not as large as mine or Plagg’s.”

A sick feeling settled over Marinette’s stomach. Her face slowly paleing as she replayed Alya’s words.

“I had a dream Alya, before you called. A man with dark hair and green eyes and there were vines, vines were everywhere.” Her voice dropped as it all connected. “A vine pierced my chest.”

Alya nodded, slowly uncurling herself to face her friend. She opened up her arms, allowing the small girl to fall into them. It was Alya’s turn to comfort her friend as her breathing began to accelerate to the near point of hyperventilating. Her blue eyes were wide, tears flowing down her cheeks. Panic rolled off of her in waves as she gripped Alya’s arm for support.

“Focus on your breathing Marinette, you can do this. Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Four seconds in, eight seconds out.”

Within twenty minutes, both girls sat in silence, no more tears left to cry. Marinette curled into Alya’s side, adjusting her head to look at the girl’s face.

“Is he nice?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant as she waited for her friend to answer.

“He is very generous, he didn’t throw his money around, but used it in a subtle way to make you feel special.”

Marinette nodded, the green eyes from her dreams burned in the front of her mind.

“Tell me more.”

“He loved you so much, even if it took him forever to realize it. He wanted to help people, he’s a vigilante in Gotham. He was way too smart for his own good, but only came off as condescending when provoked. He-”

Marinette closed her eyes, making a mental list of everything Alay said. She met her soulmate and lost him in less than six weeks, it was a cruel joke.

“What’s his name?”

“Damian Wayne.”

Both girl’s returned to the silence, lost in their separate thoughts. After a while, they both settled into the comfort of each other, slowly drifting back to sleep, both wondering the same thing. What happens now? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Marinette stared at her wrist, rereading her new phrase over and over again as she leaned against the bakery counter. Alya had told her what her original words were, even explained the misconception behind them. It seemed like a lost memory to Marinette as she stared at the beautiful script. With a sigh, she picked up the broom, continuing to sweep the bakery floor.

She had just finished when the door opened, the bell sounding through the empty store. Without turning around, Marinette placed the broom back into the closet.

“I’m sorry, but the bakery is closed.”

“You can’t make an exception for me Angel?”

Her whole back stiffened as she sucked in a sharp breath. Slowly she turned to face the man, his green eyes shining with humor.

“Damian?”

“You remember?” His smile broke her heart as he raced forward, only for her to step back. She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Marinette?”

A single tear fell from her eyes as she internally cursed. This was the most she had cried in her whole life and it had only been one day. Concern washed over his face as he put his hands in his pockets, trying not to scare the girl.

“I remember parts. I remember my death, I remember a dark haired woman, I remember you holding me as I died. I-” she paused, trying not to choke on her words.”I remember I love you, but I don’t remember why or how I fell.”

He slowly nodded, his expression completely shattering her as he looked as broken as she felt. As if instinct, she moved forward to cup his cheek, pulling his face toward hers.

“But if I have a second chance, I don’t want to waste it. Help me remember, please.”

His eyes were so sharp, she didn’t remember the gold flakes in them, but the longer he stared at her, the more she noticed. Finally, his face melted into a small smile as he carefully lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them.

“When do you want to start?”

Her stomach flipped as she felt a smile begin to grow.

“Now would be great.”

He stepped back offering his arm to the girl.

“Then shall we Miss Marinette?”

Something tugged at the back of her head, like a sense of deja vu, but she ignored it, accepting his arm with a fake curtsy.

“We shall Mr. Wayne.”

The two left the bakery, strolling down the darkening Paris streets, neither saying much, just relishing the feeling of being together again.

Tag List:

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[itsilvermorny]

Blue is the Warmest Color || Obi Wan Kenobi x reader

Hello everyone! Today I was hit with a wave of inspiration and decided to write something for my favorite Jedi, Obi Wan Kenobi. I’m a huge star wars fan and avid reader of Obi Wan fanfiction, but only now I had the guts to actually post something, so please be gentle :)

(I reread this over 100 times, but I’m sure there’s still some typos somewhere so ignore that.)

Let me know what you think?

______________________________________________________________

It’s been a long time coming – that feeling of being home, the warmth of his heavy wool robes on her cheek, being engulfed by his scent. It’s probably what she had missed the most if she’s honest with herself, the way his spicy, wooden smell surrounded her every time he was near. Always a comfort, always a taunt – it would make her insides curl in the best way, yearning to be in his arms in the worst possible moments, with her face resting against his neck, where his skin is soft and warm, and where she could feel his heart beat slightly increase upon placing a soft kiss on his Adam’s apple. It was her favourite place to kiss, right after the moles on his forehead and underneath his right eye, because she was guaranteed to earn back a shiver.

He loved it just as much (if not more) as her, she knew.

He had once confessed how the feeling of being wanted and loved was foreign to him still, how sometimes he inadvertently pinched his thigh, not quite believing the look in her eyes was directed at him.

The Jedi life was a life of solitude, and as such it’s expected of him to find comfort in the Force, not on the valley between her breasts, where he was certain to fall into a slumber, lulled by her even breaths, warm skin and the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair. And so, he loved when he felt her sponge a kiss on that spot on his neck, because it reminded him how she was his as much as he was hers, and he loved how she kissed the birthmarks on his face, as he knew it was her way of telling him she would always worry for him, care for him, and think of him when he was away on missions, willing him to come back home safely, to her.

Often when his assignments turned out unexpectedly sour he would think back and let himself remember the feel of her, of her kisses and the sweet nothings she loved to whisper on his ear – she was very vocal, always making sure to tell him how precious he was, how good, and how valued, even after being together for almost a year she knew of his insecurities and never failed to battle them away in any way she could.

And so, to finally be back in Coruscant, after what was supposed to have been a simple extraction, but turned out to be a gruesome four days of torture, after being made a slave, he could finally breathe again. Rushed to the medical facilities after collapsing on the tarmac (much to his chagrin, as General Kenobi never wished to be seen as vulnerable), he was now laid on his stomach on a cold bed, a medical droid fussing over the whip imprints on his back and Ashoka crouched near his head, willing him to keep his eyes open. Not one for sentimentality, he would seldom voice out loud how much he cared for his grandpadawan, as much as his own apprentice, but at that moment he would wish for nothing more than her silence, as her tries to gather details on what had happened during his mission were only reminding him of the crack of the whip, the insults and the cold dungeon he had been kept on.

“Ashoka, please”, was all he could mutter, as his strength failed him and he fought to keep his eyes open – with his malnourishment and the state of shock his body was under, it wasn’t advisable to fall asleep, he knew, before the doctors finished their examination, lest his body give into a comatose state.

Obi Wan willed he droids to assess his wounds faster, so he could finally be treated and then give his body the rest it so desperately needed, as it was getting increasingly harder to fight the weight on his eyelids. His prayers were answered when the door opened and in hurriedly strolled his padawan, followed by none other than the person he most ached to see, even if he could feel his heart constricting at the thought of her seeing him in such a mangled condition. He should have guessed, really, that she would be the one responsible for tending to him, not only due to her control of the force and ability to heal through it, but also because of the unspoken understanding between him and Anakin, and the nights both Jedi would each seek shelter in the arms of the ones they loved – something they never openly spoke about, but nonetheless acknowledged. Her being brought to him was surely Anakin’s doing.

He couldn’t not keep his eyes open then, he couldn’t not let himself get his fill of her, of how she had her hair in a tidy up do, the way she always insisted on having whilst working, on how her mismatched eyes quickly swept over his whole body, inquisitive, assessing all the damage he had suffered, and finally lingering on his back, on the gashes of raw flesh he knew were there – the beautiful, unique eyes he loved so much, now filled with worry and sadness. He was suddenly hit by the realisation of the scars he would undoubtedly have once his back healed, would it affect the way she saw him? Would she still want him? Desire him, touch him? He closed his eyes then, swallowing the bile that had risen on his throat, he couldn’t let himself think about that then, or his body would surely give in.

Efficient as ever, she started instructing the two other droids to make a concoction that would help close his wounds faster and dull the pain he was feeling. Anakin had pulled Ashoka aside, leading her away from his bed and out of the room, to make way for the doctors. He knew his master better than Obi Wan liked to admit, and knew he was bound to be feeling exposed, vulnerable and, most of all, embarrassed (stupidly, if anyone asked him). Obi Wan was one of the most respected and well regarded Jedi and even had recently been invited to become a part of the Council, and thus Anakin knew letting the people he was responsible for protecting seeing him broken was only adding a burden to his master’s worn down shoulders.

Soon it was just them both in the room. No words had been exchanged yet, but then again, one was too immersed battling his dark thoughts, and the other didn’t think anything could be said to erase the last four days of pain from his mind, as she desperately wished to do. So she resorted to do her job as best she could, and, closing her eyes, she hovered her hands over his body, one over his auburn hair and the other over the bottom of his spine, untouching, letting the Force guide her through is injuries, first the superficial, then the internal ones.

It was a relief to see he had not sustained any internal bleeding, as she had initially thought from the purple bruises he was sporting on his sides and arms. The lacerations on his back would take a few weeks to close properly and his body required a few days of bed rest, as well as full meals to restore its energy, but Obi Wan would be fine. She couldn’t hold in a sigh anymore, as the weight she had on her chest ever since she had learnt of his captivity finally lifted. Her Obi Wan was back, and he would be fine. Stars, her knees almost buckled at the realisation.

Hearing her reaction, he slightly craned his neck to better see her face. His mouth was dry, but he still licked his lips to speak, “Hi”. His voice sounded foreign to him, rough and deeper than it usually was, he had barely spoken a word since his extraction. She looked at him and softly smiled, her eyes shining with tears as the adrenaline of tending to him started to subside. “Don’t cry”, his voice sounded again, and, instincts kicking, he tried to lift himself on the mattress. His body protested immediately, and he sagged back down, taking a deep breath in as he fought through the tremors caused by the sudden effort.

She was at his bedside at once, seeing how the medicine the droids had applied had yet to kick in, and getting a tiny neon green pill from a bottle, she made him take it with some water. Her dearest Obi Wan, who even barely able to move, still couldn’t bare to see his people suffer. She threaded her fingers in the hair flopped over his forehead and kneeled at his bedside to be at his eye level. He was blinking slowly, the weariness and exhaustion he felt clear on his eyes, “You can rest now, Obi Wan. You suffered no internal damage. You’re home, you’re safe”, she willed her voice to come out strong to try and provide him with the assurance she imagined he needed, but he wasn’t having it. He slowly lifted his right arm from the bed and grasped the hand she had rested next to his head. They had a strong bond, stronger than he thought possible for two people to have, least of all Jedi. He knew he was breaking his oath by giving in to his feelings for her, but after their first meetings, when he came to realize how connected they were – not just their bodies, but their souls -, he couldn’t deny it, them, any longer.

The first time they met had been during the Clone Wars, as she had been a part of their medical team. But after the war, as time went on, they kept crossing paths, randomly and repeatedly, as if the Force were driving them to know each other. He started to be able to clearly see her force signature, then feel it, as well as her presence, and even share her emotions, and he knew from his padawan days that even the Jedi who decided to dedicate themselves to medicine had to complete the Jedi training in its entirety, which meant she knew how to protect and close her mind. They found themselves intertwined though, as they had gotten closer, and who was he to contest a wish from the Force?

She rested her head on their joined hands, faces so close her nose almost touched his cheek. “You need sleep”, she whispered softly, “I’ll stay if you’d like me to.” There was nothing that would be able to drag her away from him, she knew.

He nodded slowly; his eyes fixed on hers. They had always been one of his favourite features, because he had never seen nothing like it before, not even on his adventures with his late master, who had made sure to teach him all there was to know about each species that inhabited the planets they visited. She was human, like him, quite ordinary as well, in juxtaposition to the multitude of species in Coruscant, except for her eyes – one was blue, clear as the water of the rivers in Naboo, and the other was a soft lilac, the same shade the sky of Tatooine would adopt in the dusk. Her eyes that told him so much, even when she wished to guard herself and her thoughts – he could always read her (as he knew she could always read him) because there were no reservations between them.

So, he saw, deep into her mind, her love and care for him, the worry she had felt in his absence painted in the circles beneath her eyes. He felt her force signature, a soft, mint green, enveloping his body, providing him with the comfort he craved, like a breath of fresh air consuming his being and washing his body into a deep sense of calm.

And when she softly left a lingering kiss on the mole beneath his right eye, he knew he was safe and that she would love him back to health.

[cultureisdarkbeer]

Road to All Things

Read New Chapter 5 Here

Excerpt from Ch. 3:

31 December 1999

In his peripheral vision Scully’s head was tilted back, elongating the silky column of her neck. One day he had hoped to sufficiently explore the skin there. Dick Clark, along with the rest of times square and most likely the entire time zone, let out a loud, Happy New Year! And just like that, it was the year 2000. Auld Lang Syne played on the TV speaker while streamers drifted and confetti fell like colorful snowflakes. The camera zoomed in on a couple kissing and Mulder darted his eyes to the left, Scully watched seemingly enraptured, with a small smile creeping at the corner of her mouth.

The moment had moved him and he wanted to share it with her. Would she stop him? He turned and slowly dipped his head, their eyes met and casually his lips joined hers. Lightly, gently, he explored the purse of her lips, a soft kiss to introduce the new year. A first kiss. It was nothing that he thought it would be. No fireworks, but no awkward noses brushing, their lips matching up perfectly. Sweetly. Maybe there were a few bottle rockets in his heart. Pulling away, he felt suddenly shy like he had exposed too much. She tilted her head and he couldn’t quite read her reaction, but as their kiss transformed into a smile it warmed his insides.

“The world didn’t end.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Happy New Year, Scully.”

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

He put his good arm around her as she leaned into him and they headed out the door into the night.

Mulder had never felt this selfish or this close to coming undone in all his life. That innocent kiss had ignited a flame that could have melted the sun. His meds had started to wear, the pain in his arm quite sharp. Scully had left his hospital room long enough for him to verify that the pain meds would not interfere with his brain meds. Fear trickled down his back when he thought that he had left his other prescriptions frivolously on the counter. Luckily, she headed for the bathroom when they arrived and he darted into the kitchen, ripping the label off and destroying it while hiding the bottle in the back of his highest shelf. She returned with his painkillers and her shirt buttoned down for him to see enough cleavage to need to nonchalantly adjust the bulge forming underneath his pants.  

“I can help you with your shirt,” Scully offered and he raised his brow for the sake of humor.

“Or you could sleep with it on,” she tossed back.

He squeezed his eyes shut as she lifted his shirt from his back. His arm ached as if it was cracking. “Does your head hurt?” she asked in response, her fingertips brushing his forehead near the hairline and he shook it slowly, wetting his lips, and swallowing hard. Everything tonight was taking on new meaning. He could feel every contact her body made with his. She shifted again to complete her inspection, her voice low and soft, “they did a good job. It should heal nicely.”

Scully opened the tube of salve to apply it to her own scrapes. “I’m not a doctor, but I think I could handle that if you let me,” Mulder offered.

The space between them seemed infinitely smaller than usual. Scully sat down on the couch next to him and he couldn’t even breathe properly. Carefully he applied the cloudy soft gel to her tender satin skin. For too many minutes he considered touching the soft strands of her rose colored hair. Watching as her shoulders rose and fell; he closed his eyes and took in her vanilla scent. It allowed his mind to drift to that moment she hugged him so tight, elated that he agreed to be her baby’s bio dad. With his eyes remaining closed he also felt slightly dizzy and a heaviness in the forehead region. Shit. His meds were taking over.

When his eyes opened he could see his happiness mirrored on her face. It made his whole body lighter, or maybe that was the meds, but it gathered enough in him to say, “Next year at this time, there could be a little you and me running around.”

Her blue diamonds glistened in light of his statement. “Could be.” Her voice cracked on the words, and Mulder felt something tighten at the base of his throat. That was when he noticed her fingers trembling, like she was terror-stricken. He reached out and wrapped her hand around his. Scully froze, her expression carefully blank.

His stomach did a slow roll as he looked down at her. “What’s the matter?”

She frowned. “Nothing.”

“Yes it is. You’re shaking.”

She held his gaze and squeezed his hand. Her lashes wet with fear, her lips close enough to almost brush against. “It’s such a long shot, Mulder.”

“But I believe in you, Scully. There’s always room for a miracle and that’s why we can’t give up.” There was a duality in his words, but she would only understand the singular meaning. Her eyes turned molten, and her gaze dropped to lick him up and down. He could see it in her eyes what was coming, he didn’t know if it was the pain meds, his brain meds, or the injuries, but he didn’t have the strength to stop her. The hot lightning he felt the first time their lips touched returned as she pressed hers to his again.

Pure white heat sharply burned in all the right places. His jaw matched hers as it flexed and pushed harder against her mouth, his tongue needily slipping inside as his hand cupped her face, bringing his legs underneath him to face her. Their kisses deepened, slick and hungry, Scully’s gravity pulling him up on his knees to get closer, to have more of her. They rose, never breaking their kiss, any pain in his arm quickly slipped away with the mix of dopamine, adrenaline, and lust. There was no question that his heart was beating quicker than logic considering they hadn’t left the couch. Then his body twitched and his eyes snapped open.

Scully pulled back. “Mulder, are you all right? Why are you breathing so… hard?” Her words fell away as her eyes dropped to his waist. He lowered his own sightline to see the head of his cock peeking out the top of his waistband.

When Mulder’s gaze landed on Scully, his features twisted into a grimace. “Scully.. I.. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… that’s not what I want..”  

Instinctively she ran her fingers through the hair at his temple, tracing her way to the back of his head. She twisted her wrist a bit and started to kneed his neck. Mulder released a low groan, his body tensing against her own. His panting breaths tickled the exposed part of her chest. It wasn’t soothing like her intention, instead it made her needy, warmth spreading deep in her belly. Their feelings had deepened and nuanced since her bout with cancer, and everything that occurred these past few months, and now, sitting here with him, felt like the eye of a tornado.

Images flashed behind her eyes of his barely contained velvet monster, but instead of it tucked in his pants, it was deep inside her, blazing a trail of sparks and light. Her, being so full from him, everywhere, friction reaching her core, growing wetter around him as he stretched her to madness.  Scully rubbed at the tense spots on his neck, increasing her force with each thought, their breaths coming fast and dire. Years of suppressed fantasies rushing in, aching her center. Mulder’s body stiffened once more against her. She could hear his breath catch. “Scully..”

Her fingers played through his hair, then stroked gently down to the nape of his neck. He moaned like he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Mulder’s hand reached up to fold around hers drawing both their hands to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding.

He leaned in and repeated, “Scully…” For a moment, he suspended his breath against her ear, the scruff of his face against her cheek. Then it was her turn to shudder, her legs shifting against his, as he rasped out, “Please, stop.”

“Mulder, what is it?” She could feel her throat tight and her lids heavy.

His forehead touched her own and he moaned, “It’s too good.”

Scully’s sightline lowered and Mulder drew his rigid slender frame away from her, exposing the outline of the long thick rod straining against his pants. The shaft, so big it was bent towards the left in its confinement. Mulder reached down melding his hand around it, trying to shield it from her sight. Her gaze swept up towards his face, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the dark bared tip trapped between his waistband and his chiseled belly. Dear God, it was big. Desire coursed through her, clenching the center region of her hips. She blinked up at him.

Mulder’s unslung hand was now spread over his abs, only partly able to hide his sex from her eyes. It was so long and thick, even his huge hand couldn’t shield all of it.

He shook his head, his face a ripe tomato red. His jaw tightened as he shook  again and closed his eyes. “Scully, you should go,” he said, his voice breathless.

Scully’s heart was hammering as if it might give out. It was surreal, being in this moment, with Mulder, on his couch. Her hand came up to touch his rough cheek. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. And going home is not what I want to do right now.” Scully could hardly breathe as she spoke those words, her cheeks burning white hot, almost in tears, the words exposing so much of her desires it sent shockwaves through her.

Time froze around them as his breath grew faster, heavier. Mulder’s jaw tightened and his features tensed. He leaned in close enough for his chest to brush hers. “Then, I want you to touch me, Scully.”

His hand fell away, but Scully was too fear stricken to not leave his eyes. With their lips barely a breath apart, her hands blindly fumbled with the top button of his pants and carefully drew down his zipper. Mulder moaned and closed his eyes, his mouth parting and eyelids falling heavy, fluttering against her cheek; his sling leaning into her abdomen as Scully reached inside and ran her fingertips around his cock. It felt painfully engorged as her hand danced along the thick curves, up and down from tip to base, long solid strokes, not leaving his eyes, her pulse now between her legs, pounding harder than it ever had before. Scully whimpered, feeling his pleasure in her own core, the noise slipping accidentally from her lips. Her fingers twisted over the tip, tugging upwards and Mulder pulled his pants and boxers farther down, until they gathered against the couch cushion at his knees.

Scully couldn’t look away. Her own knees trembled. She slowed her pace, squeezing the crown. Mulder gasped and moaned, his eyes focused on hers. She paused and he exhaled, she could feel him swelling at her grip. “Scully, we should stop. Knowing you would want to is enough.”

Her eyes fell, Scully needed to give herself a minute to take heed to his words, but was met with his cock, pointing proudly up at her. It was so.. thick and... long. So perfect. Heat zinged through her at a fever pitch. So high she broke out in a sweat. “But it’s not enough for me .”

The look on his face almost made her die from desire. “No?”

“No,” she answered him in a thick low whisper, kissing him gently.

Scully’s hand glided down towards the base and then back up as they kissed, spreading her fingers, rubbing over him with the shaft between her thumb and forefinger until she reached the tip again, tracing the rim. His hips jerked forward and he moaned.

They deepened their kiss in desperation, his good hand stroking gently up and down her arm as she continued pumping his stiff marble length. This time when she reached the base she held it with one hand and used the other to lightly caress and tug the swollen sac below. It drew up with her light touch, turning the area between her own legs into a yawning ache. The reaction made two of her fingers reach beneath to tickle the area behind it.

“Oh shiiit,” Mulder cried out in a raspy breath, squeezing her arm hard enough to leave a bruise. He pulled her into him in a hug, his body an oven against her.

“Is this really happening?” he breathed into her neck.

“Yes,” Scully confirmed in a whimper.

“I’m not hallucinating from the medication?”

“You’re not,” she confirmed, giving him small kisses along his cheek and then she whispered in his ear, “Tell me how you like it.”

The request pulsed through him and he throbbed harder against her palm. This was Scully and the reality of that was turning him on more than anything. He swallowed down the scream of joy caught in his throat and choked out, “harder..”; she firmed up her grip. The pleasure tightened his groin, ran up his spine, and lit up the tip of his skull like a solar flare. It had never felt this good and it was only her hand. “Jesus, Scully.” Need inside him grew and he grunted, “ Faster,” The sensations swelled and built.  “Scully, that feels so good.” He was gulping breaths when he begged her “faster,” still, gripping at her hair with his good hand, the heat of her body on his, the sound of her whimpers reaching his ears, the smell of her hair, skin, arousal. He continued his chants of “Scully,” “Oh God , Scuuhlly ,” and held on for dear life,  caught on this roller coaster, hugging her tighter.

She stroked so quick and so hard she was afraid she was hurting him, his cock feeling like steel coated in satin. The passionate pull of his hand in her hair, the quick pain, made her want to spear herself on him. The throbbing inside her was steady now, an almost unbearable pleasure.  Her hands began to shake, the sensations inside her building, her movements matching the tenacity.

Mulder groaned. “If- Scully, if..” Her hand stilled, but his hips rocked into her, urging her to move again. His hand pressed her lower back, drawing her ever closer, “If you don’t stop Scully, if you don’t stop soon.. I’m-going -to-come.”

The warning left her undeterred, instead she felt eager, frenzied, with an overwhelming urge to watch him come undone. She pulled away enough to look into his eyes as she ran her hand up and down his enlarged cock, teasing, languid, gripping the tip, rubbing her thumb over the tiny slit, with her other hand cupping his balls.

“Scully, please, I’m gonna come,” he warned again.

She loved this. She loved having this much control over his pleasure, giving him this much feeling. His life had been so much heartache she needed to add to the happiness. Mulder’s fingers were trembling over her neck, his thumb at her jaw line, dragging air into his lungs, and groaning outward. Scully rubbed her palm around, over the wetness now covering his tip, picking up speed. He clutched her neck. “Scully, I’m really close.”

Again she quickened her stroke, somehow impossibly she felt him swell further. Mulder started to writhe and claw at her back. She closed one hand around his sac and pumped the other up his length. When her closed fist brushed the notch at the rim of his glistening crown, he jerked. “Scully, I’m coming, oh God I’m coming, fuck, Scully, it’s so much.”

Scully’s head spun as she felt his sac harden against her palm and watched his thick cream spurting between her fingers, dripping down his taut swollen cock.

Mulder panted, his face slackened, he tilted his head back and unable to resist, she pressed her tongue to the throbbing tendon and sucked at the pulse thrumming inside his throat.

In his eyes she saw his desires melt away, but between her own legs, a heaviness built. Mulder reached for the hand towel on the coffee table, running it over his soaked length. The sight of him touching himself, feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm she gave him, made Scully throb. Tightly her thighs pressed together.

“You okay?”  he asked as he finished. His eyes were dilated and he looked like the meds were getting the best of him, like he might drift off at any moment.

She laughed out of pure self consciousness, “Yeah. You okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m really really okay,” he said shyly.

She paused for a moment. “Would you mind if I used the bathroom?”

Mulder gave her a peculiar look. “Yeah, let me just run in real quick.”

What was less than a minute felt like eternity. He came out refreshed, wearing simple pajama bottoms. Scully raced in, the throbbing failing to cease, her body begging relief. Quickly she closed and locked the bathroom door, gripping the white porcelain of the sink while her quaking fingers slipped down beneath her underwear, over her scarce coarse auburn curls.

The urge bubbled beyond control. She glided her fingers over her sex, slick and swollen like she had never been before. When her finger nudged between the slit between her lips she had to bite her cheek to keep from moaning and Mulder from hearing.  

The entire time she pictured Mulder, sliding in and out of her with his huge cock and his tormented eyes. Scully worked her fingers in circles, harder and faster, her pants so loud they echoed against the tile. She was surprised at how wet she was as she pushed her fingertip inside. She cried out and fear shot threw her that Mulder might hear, but she couldn’t stop.

The throbbing increased and her whole body ached with the need to feel him. In her fantasy he was lying flat on his back, his large and long erection jutting up. She would grab it as she straddled him and push the thick tip into her swollen flesh, filling her completely to the point of sinful madness. His taut jaw, parted lips, soulful eyes. The smile that filled her heart, his rough cheek brushing hers, whispering his desires into her ear.

Scully’s fingers blanched as she squeezed tighter against the cold sink, trying her best to silence her moans as she came, then quickly dipping her hand into the stream of water beneath the faucet to wash away the evidence.

When she returned to the living room, Mulder had been overcome by sleep, breathing heavily, but peacefully. She helped him lay down on his pillow, and he followed her goading without waking. She covered him with the throw and left him a glass of water, kissing his forehead before deciding to return to her apartment.

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Tagging with love

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[sootcloak]

Day One: Foster

For a Future yet Unseen

Warnings need to be applied before going on to the piece itself; This one goes to some dark places in general, and depicts a character struggling with suicidal tendencies, and graphically describes injury and death.

Roughly 1600 words. AO3 Link

I’m not going to put this on character tags for the reasons above, so be aware that this work involves dialogue from G’raha in case you don’t want to read anything which involves him.

   “What is it?” Her hair, tangled and greasy, bobs as she turns her head to look back at the Seventh Heaven. Panting in the threshold of the door, G’raha Tia holds up one finger. A moment passes, and he catches his breath.

    “You are to leave, then? With so much yet undone? Even Ser Estinien has-”

    “Spare me the high and mighty speech,  Exarch .” The lalafellin woman cuts him off, voice sharp, metallic and bitter. “I answered your call, aided your order while the Archons were away, and worked to reign in the Tolophoroi because it aligned with my needs. Now, I return to my work.”

    G’raha reels a moment at her tone, then gathers himself, a familiar restraint creeping into his words.

    “Your work is important - hunting heads so as to protect those less fortunate than ourselves. But you are, to put it lightly, overqualified. Your skills are needed here, joined with ours.” He extends one hand, ruby eyes unflinchingly gazing down to her.

    “No, they’re not.” She breaks eye contact, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “And besides - if and when I am truly needed, I can be called by a number of means. Azem should-”

    “Do not call them that.” The sternness in his voice catches her, emerald eyes matching his for just a second.

    “Your hero should be able to summon me whenever they please. Besides, best not to let you get used to me. Once all this is done, the Empire in the grave, Fandaniel put down?” Her voice softens and she pauses a beat.

    “After that, I’ve only one task left to me.” She glances up at the sky, awash in rainbow hues, ambient aether built up in colorful clouds. The silence sits there, uncomfortable and weighty. The thin crowds mill about their business, the air humming with soft waning activity.

    G’raha steps slowly from the pub, until he’s a couple paces from her.

    “Vavara, there’s more to life than the duties we must undertake. More for us here than the purposes we were made for.” His voice is low and gentle, but insistent - a warm undertow.

    “Don’t go trying to impart wisdom to me. I don’t deserve it and I don’t particularly like it, either. I chose this path. Let it guide me. The only conclusion acceptable after all I’ve done is to blast clean all I’ve stained this world with. The Weapons project is dead and buried, and once I’m sure none of it remains in the Empire proper…” Her hand brushes against her sternum, a grim air washing over her.

    “After that, only this body, my weapons, and my core will remain. I will not have it misused again. Not now, not in a hundred years, not in a thousand after my aether has dried up and this body has begun to rust.” She casts a brief glance at him, expression briefly softening as their eyes meet. “Oh come now, you’re an old man. Older even than me. You’re not so naive to believe I’d  want  to ‘live’ in this shell for eternity, are you?”

    “No. I know. But that does not mean we are without options-”

    “G’raha…”

    “Allagan cloning technology shows great promise, and while none of your original body remains in a condition we could use as a base for a newly grown body, we could see if there is a way to-”

    “G’raha.”

    “-restore your aether to a living form, rather than a primarily magitek one. Or perhaps we could simply make your life in a magitek body less uncomfortable, experiment with other kinds of crystal and stone. Try variations on the technology you’ve-”

    “Stop.” She pulls her cap from her head. Knotted locks tumbles out from beneath it in waves of gray and sandy brown, over her shoulders and down to her hips.

    “I don’t think I can face death as I have again.” She says. Softly, so quiet one can barely hear the metallic ringing in her voice. Her eyes trace upwards to the lights above.

    “But once? And then to bid everyone farewell, knowing I’ve done my part? That I had helped to raise a better tomorrow, quietly and from a distance? To know that I’ve made amends. I don’t need to live long, or happily ever after. To just know that would be enough. But if I stay, I will face it again and again. More viscerally than any of you have ever known.

    “I have died ; I was shot through the chest and lost my heart and half my ribs - I was saved, barely, but I felt my life leaving me. No healer could repair that foul of a wound. They worked around the clock to keep me just on the threshold of death’s door. I choked on my own blood and bile for days as my aether was moved to my core. Drowning and experiencing my soul being torn from my body, all at once. It was not pleasant.

    “I was scorched by artillery shelling when someone betrayed my position to the Imperials. Torched and thrown this way and that, until barely anything remained save for charred bones and fragments of hardened sinew. I felt every moment, every pounding detonation; My aether safe in my core and preserved to experience it all.

    “I was dashed to pieces in Rhalgr’s Reach, my head removed from my shoulders by the Crown Prince’s lackey. Wasn’t even worth his attention. But I still felt it. Felt as all my senses went black -no, worse, they were just  gone  - and all my bearings were lost. Not even  time  held sway in the abyssal depths of that crystal without any sensation to anchor me. For what could have been a dozen seconds or a dozen years, I waited, hopeful that I  wouldn’t be found - but destroyed - so as to just end the misery then and there.

    “And again, this time I’d grown clever enough, fast enough, viscous enough, and strong enough to challenge the beast at Ghimlyt. Lost my arm, those last few organs I’d had, and my legs there.  And again, I had to suffer through  every  moment of pain, every pulse of agony. Unable to do aught but  watch  as he nearly cut down the one, the ONE person I’d begun to place any stock in."

    “..."

    “I… I’m not strong enough to die again and have to live with it for…” Her voice stalls, eyes distant and posture stiff.

    “I think. I think I’d just like to be done, truth be told. There’s not much left of me. But a professional has standards, and I’m not given to leave a job half-done.” Her face remains fixed on the clouds of aether above, in their myriad colors and shapes, the night sky awash in a tapestry of foggy, rainbow hues. As the crowd thins and she stands by the lamp, G’raha says nothing. He just takes another step closer, and looks up at the sky besides her.

    “If you mean to finish what you’ve set out to do…”

    “I’ll have to face it once or twice more. I… I know.”

    “Had I but known you were struggling so much, I’d-”

    “What, you would have called down from your tower to  save me  ? I did not ask for your pity.” A trembling anger briefly flashes through her. “I  chose  this path. I’ll walk it, don’t think to drag me off it now.”

    “No, I don’t think I could. I was told I should save my breath - that you always depart after you’ve decided you’re ‘no longer needed’ . That no one had been able to convince you to stay. None of the Scions, or Archons, or Warriors who had reached out to you could convince you that you had a place here.” G’raha’s eyes slowly shift from one star to the other.

    “Because I don't.” The words are a weak, half-hearted hiss.

    “Perhaps not. But whether or not there is a place for you here, you need not make your journey alone. Whatever end awaits you, you need not face it with  your  strength and resolve  alone .”

    “I’m more than capable of-”

    “I know. I wasn’t suggesting that you are weak, or that your will is lacking.”

    “...”

    “If at the end of the road, you find your journey has ended, that there is naught else left for you save your duty? Then in that too, I would walk with you. To ensure you may rest at ease, knowing that you have indeed played your role. But pray, give me - give us - a chance to repay all that you have done for  us . You have answered our calls, our prayers. I wish to show you the future you have long labored to create.” He stretches a moment, and turns back the way he came. He glances back over at her.

    “Though you have been laboring in the dark for longer than I’d feared, there is yet hope. If you’ll let us show you, we would be proud to walk alongside you. But the choice is yours. If you feel you must face the final days of your journey alone, then I will not stand in your way.” He takes a deep breath. His eyes break from her, jaw set, walks into the Seventh Heaven, and disappears from sight.

    Vavara’s hand reaches for her sternum, the resonant clicking of the gears just beneath the surface rhythmically vibrating through her coat, her gauntlet. Her core burns in her chest, cold and stinging like alcohol on a wound. She tears her eyes away from the sky, and looks over her shoulder at the door, left slightly ajar. Her thumb brushes the brim of her cap, still held in her hand.

    “Forgive my cowardice…” She whispers.

    She pulls her hat over her head, the brim low near her eyes.

    She wrestles with the strap of her bag, the rifle and spear strapped to it clinking.

    And she turns on her heel.

[renxamamiya]

Theatre of Mirrors - Prologue

Here it is finally! I’m so excited to start this fanfic, with this au no less! This fanfic is going to be not only my longest in terms of written words, but also with chapters. I hope all of you are in for the ride, and also help me see through this fic to its conclusion!

Also, I’m thinking about putting this on AO3 also but idk, tell me your opinions pls I need it.

Warning though, this fic contains P5R spoilers for most, if not all, of the game. I’ve done my best to not include any within this chapter, but subsequent chapters WILL have them.

Special thanks to @digifangirl97​ for reading this beforehand, @rui-the-galax-angel​ for being my constant source of inspiration and motivation to even start writing this au, and @yusuke-of-valla​ for promoting it. Other special tags include @nowyoureblue​ and @mad4turtles​ for being my biggest fans!

Rain pattered upon the concrete streets of Tokyo, grey clouds obscuring the Sun, only allowing slithers of its golden rays to trickle out. This was uncommon weather during the Spring, rain being transitional after snow, watering plants that were starting to bloom anew. Underneath his umbrella Ren waited patiently for the crossroad lights to change, packed between crowds of unruly people, his umbrella acting as a personal sanctuary against the relentless shower poured from above.

“Hey.” Morgana murmured, popping out from the bag he often slung behind his arm, “Is this gonna take any longer? The rain’s starting to get heavier you know.” 

Ren rolled his eyes at the otherwise impatient cat, “I can only control so much, your majesty.” he replied sarcastically in his head, but held back his tongue as the crossroad lights turned green. He briskly started walking, no doubt not wanting to get caught up by the sudden torrent of movement, the risk of getting trampled by restless crowds did not appeal that much to him.

A year after his adventures within the Metaverse, where he stole the hearts of corrupt individuals and killed a God, Ren returned to the city from his country town. Pursuing an education of the culinary arts, he bought himself a small condo room using money he squirreled away from his adventures as the leader of the Phantom Thieves, his own sanctuary located within the bustling city. He lived on his own (if you excluded Morgana), his parents indifferent when he left them back at Inaba, not caring about their delinquent son; something he had counted on when applying for the education for a less traditional, ‘successful’ job.

“Have you got an email back yet?” Morgana asks, again perching his front paws on his shoulder, Ren shook his head.

“I’m going to check now.” he replied, before retreating into a small alleyway, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the lock screen photo, an image of all his Phantom Thieves smiling at the camera, before sliding it open. Quicky tapping on the screen, he flicked through his emails, letters and words reflecting on the fake lens of his glasses. 

“Well?” 

“I’m trying to find the email, Mona.” Ren breathed, purposely controlling his tone of annoyance towards the animal. Scanning the multiple titles with his grey eyes, it took minutes to find the email he wanted, it being buried amongst a number of promotional letters. As soon as he saw the words ‘APPLICATION STATUS’ he tapped hopefully on it, reading it eagerly. However, he soon found his eagerness waning, disappointment instead replacing it.

“Dear Mr Amamiya,” the email started, the introduction formal, unassuming to the power it held for his future prospects.

“We regret to inform you that your application for the Matsuhisa School for Culinary Arts has been rejected, since you have not reached the target grade in order to within the program. If you think there is a mistake, please contact…..”

Ren stopped reading, turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket, too ashamed at himself to continue. He suppressed a cry, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist. He didn’t want Morgana to witness his moment of weakness, especially while in public. 

“Ren? Are you okay?”

Ren turned to Morgana, the cat looking at him with worried, blue eyes. How he hated at times that Morgana was with him for most of the day, hiding comfortably in his bag while Ren walked around Tokyo, almost as a slave to him. Yet he admitted to himself a long time ago that he’d come to rely on the presence of the feline to keep him sane, preferring Morgana to his own thoughts. 

Ren blinked, grey eyes still shimmering with tears, blinking rapidly in thought, before he forced a smile on his lips. 

“I’m fine.” he lied.

A sharp, hot pain suddenly shot through his head, Ren wincing momentarily, it dissipating as quickly as it came, only to be replaced with a feeling of sudden nausea. 

“Morgana, what’s happen-” Ren slurred, another wave of nausea echoing in his brain, him trying to keep his balance as the world around him suddenly whirled at dizzying speed. The feeling was… unfamiliar. A feeling he felt he recognised, but the origin on the tip of his tongue.

“M-”

Before Ren could utter another word, he quickly lost consciousness, black abruptly consuming his vision.

“-en. R...n. Ren!”

Ren struggled to open his eyes, his head heavy, his mouth dry. 

“-en, get up.” 

He manages to blink them open somewhat, eyelids heavy, his hearing muffled. 

“Ren!”

A sudden burst of energy managed to allow his eyelids to flutter open, grey eyes hazy and unfocused. Another round of blinks managed to allow him to stir awake, him pulling himself into sitting upright on the floor. He rested his forehead in one of his hands, back curved outward, groaning as the last of the dizzy spell dissipated. 

“Ren, are you okay?”

“I’m fine Morgana.” he says, his head out from his hand, looking at his feline friend. It only takes him another minute to realise that Morgana’s standing on his hind legs.

“Morgana, why are you…” he trails off, taking a second this time to connect the dots. Morgana was standing perfectly on his hind legs. He stood on his hind legs only in the Metaverse. If he was on his hind legs here…. Then that means…..

They were both in the Metaverse.

The Metaverse had returned. 

But…. how?

The myth that cats have nine lives did not escape the fleeting thoughts of Morgana as he struggled to get himself off the concrete ground beneath him. He was nestled comfortably in Ren’s bag when his friend suddenly collapsed, the momentum of his falling body causing Morgana to be flung out of his vehicle. A blur of events later the cat found himself on the ground. 

“Ow……” Morgana groaned, feeling dull, throbbing pain on his head and body. It was a miracle that he was still alive, no doubt one of his nine lives evaporated as he impacted the ground. Still shaking, he spent another while on the concrete, his eyesight slowly coming back, strength gathering to his limbs. It took another breath for him to push himself into standing.

He took the time to gather his thoughts. He fell. Down. Hard. Because Ren… Ren…. Ren!

“Ren?” was Morgana’s first mutter since regaining his footing, memories flooding back. They were in an alleyway minutes ago, Ren reading one of his emails, his expression turning from hopefulness to one of hopelessness. Morgana asked what was wrong. Ren told him he was okay. Then. Then....

Morgana huffed, crossing his arms. The moment of realisation hit right after.

His eyes widened in shock, uncurling his arms and looking at his front paws. He was standing. On his hind legs. He reached to feel his neck, the familiar handkerchief wrapped around it in place of his bright yellow collar.

"The Metaverse?" he questioned out loud, and looking up he got his answer. The sky was coloured light red, a detail that often accompanied them when entering the bizarre dimension. 

"But why… no… that's not important right now. I need to find Ren and then get out of here." he thought to himself, shaking his head before starting to look around his surroundings. Spotting Ren sprawled on the floor a couple of feet away, Morgana hopped towards the boy. 

"Ren." The cat muttered, approaching his friend, his ears perking up in high alert. They were in a compromising spot, too open and vulnerable for shadows to attack them in this unknown realm. Ren was lying down on his stomach, his eyes closed, chest rising slowly up and down. Good, he was breathing. Morgana continued to scan their surroundings vigilantly. 

"Ren," Morgana continued to pester the unconscious body of the boy, hoping to stir him awake, "Ren. Ren!" 

Ren began to stir beneath his paws, Morgana running to see his face, the boy struggling to open his eyes. 

"Ren, get up!" 

Ren’s eyes fluttered, struggling to keep open, his consciousness threatening to ebb away. 

“Ren!”

Ren’s eyes shot open, grey and unfocused, darting around frantically. Morgana felt relief as Ren fluttered his eyes a couple of times. A groan escaped out of his throat, Morgana backing away from him, allowing his friend the space to regain his bearings. 

“Ren, are you okay?” he asks, Ren nodding in his hand in response.

“I’m fine Morgana.” Ren says, taking his head out from his hand to look at his feline friend. A moment later, Morgana held his breath as Ren’s eyes widened in shock. He had also realised that they were again in the Metaverse. 

“How?” Ren asked, again blinking rapidly, confusion solidifying on his face, his heart beginning to beat rapidly from a sudden wave of anxious fear. Taking a moment, he looked around, his expression more worried as the seconds ticked by “Morgana, what’s-”

“I’m just as confused as you are.” the cat muttered, looking at Ren, a significant detail popping into his head, “You’re not in your thief outfit as well. Something is definitely going on.”

“You’re…. You’re right.” Ren said shakily, just then reaching for the mask on his face that wasn’t there, “Morgana.” he breathes to his friend, masking his growing anxiety with a commanding tone, “We need to get… we need to get out here.” 

“No disagreements here.” Morgana nodded, “The fact that the Metaverse has returned, and you not gaining your thief outfit means that something’s definitely going on here. Something powerful.” he mused, “Something….. Unprecedented.” 

Ren nodded, agreeing with his partner in crime. He reached for his phone in his pocket. 

But it was empty. 

“Hey.” Morgana mutters, seeing Ren anxiously patting his trousers, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to find my phone.” 

“Your phone?” Morgana asks, “You mean the one with the Metanav right?”

“Yeah.” Ren replies as he continues to grasp for his phone. Did they even get here via the Metanav? He wasn’t so sure, the gap in time between him in reality and him in the Metaverse too abstract for him to even recollect. 

“I remember you looking at it before we came here, are you-”

“Mona.” Ren sharply snapped, breath ragged, eyes wide and scared, pale hands shaking. Morgana recoiled back in shock. Ren was normally calm and collected, his cool head a feature that was crucial for him to function as the treasured leader of the phantom thieves. Under normal circumstances, Morgana reasons, this kind of behaviour would be unlike him. 

However, the circumstances they both found themselves in were anything but normal.

“Hey, Ren. Just calm down okay?” Morgana said, trying his best to comfort his friend as his own feelings of anxiety began to swell, “We’ll get out of this. We always do.”

Ren stopped his frantic searching to look at Morgana. 

“Yeah.” he smiled. Though Morgana’s words did little to help quell the anxious feeling swirling his stomach, he did appreciate what his friend was attempting to do, “But, if I can’t find my phone, what do you suggest we do, Mona?” 

Morgana hummed, crossing his arms in contemplation. His gaze drifted towards the horizon amongst the barren wasteland. He could see lights flickering invitingly. He peaked his ears, hearing the sounds of chatter, laughter and music coming from the same spot. 

“I think since we’re here, we do a little bit of reconnaissance, see what we’re up against.” he suggested to Ren, the boy following his gaze towards the commotion.

The source of the lights and laughter belonged to a theatre, it’s exterior grand and welcoming, reds and golds generously decorating the walls and staircase leading up to it, ornate statues gesturing towards the doors, ushering all who approached it inside. The building was tall. Long, glittering columns extended seemingly endlessly towards the heavens, figures that were carved within the marble supporting each distinct floor on their shoulders surrounded the width of the ornate, glass stained windows depicting unknown figures glowed with yellow light as both Morgana and Ren approached it.

“Whoa…” Morgana said, amazed at how beautiful, “What is this place? It looks amazing, right Ren?”

“It is.” Ren nodded in agreement, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this structure. It looked… familiar. It felt familiar, as if he had once seen this particular palace in a dream. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He curled his lips into an unsure frown, “But….”

“But what?” Morgana asks, turning his head around to look at Ren, seeing the concerned expression behind the thick, framed glasses the boy wore. 

“It’s…. Nothing.” Ren shook his head before giving a toothy grin at Morgana, yet it did not reach his eyes, “I’m just worried about not having my infiltration outfit, that’s all. But the fact that the Palace owner - whoever it is - doesn’t see us as a threat is good. Kind of like Futaba in a way.”

“Yeah, until she decided not to.” Morgana huffed, crossing his arms, “Then she tried to kill us.”

“She was unconsciously pushing us away.” Ren shrugged, starting to climb the steps to the theatre, “I don’t blame her.” 

“True.” Morgana hummed in agreement, following Ren up the staircase, “You think the Palace owner is someone like her?”

“You mean, emotionally troubled and seeking help?” Ren asks, turning from Morgana towards the front of him, “I wouldn’t be surprised. My thief attire not appearing does support that. Maybe the owner really needs help. Maybe they want it.”

“You may be right, but it still doesn’t explain-" 

Morgana’s out loud thoughts were cut short as the both of them entered the theatre, the sight of the interior so grand it took both their breaths away. 

The amount of regalness of the interior of the theatre matched in grandness of its exterior. A sea of red carpet stretched wide on the floor, white marble walls were accented with glittering gold archways and columns. Velvet curtains hung next to the stained glass windows, golden lights glew upon golden chandeliers, the decorations luxurious without being gaudy. Ren however was drawn to the fountain nested between the staircase that curved upwards into the depths of the theatre, guests casually gliding up and down twin staircases, ignoring the boy and cat completely. 

“Wow, what a place. The owner sure has taste when it comes to luxurious decor.” Morgana said, marvelling the foyer of the theatre, humanoid cognitions avoiding them as they talked amongst themselves. 

“Yeah..” Ren trailed off, scanning the interior design with his eyes before him. Gery irises settled between the fountain nestled between the two staircases, and before he knew it he was walking towards the fountain, almost entranced by it. If he had paid closer attention to his surroundings like his feline friend at that moment, he would have quickly realised his fatal move. 

To Ren, the fountain seemed to call to him. Faces were carved within the smooth, black obsidian, masks of all expressions decorated the bottom, the foreheads carved with numbers seemingly at random, accented with gold. Within the middle of the fountain sat a figure sitting on a tipped jar in which water flowed from. They were surrounded by masks suspended seemingly by magic, yet these weren’t the same masks that decorated the bottom of the fountain, each of them an individual, unique shape, made out of what looked to be like crystal. Light green, yellow, pink, blue, white, dark green, purple, black, and pale gold. His eyes trailed from the glittery masks towards the figure. They were sitting cross legged, details of their long, flowing coat lovingly carved in stone, winklepickers curved, waistcoat accented with gold. Ren noted to himself that the figure’s costume looked just like…

The golden accented mask gave it all away.

Ren’s eyes widened in stunned alarm, stumbling back reflexively in complete disbelief. The masked man’s familiar smirk, the way his messy hair curled, his eyes, golden gems glittering in the light. No. No no no! It was impossible! Impossible! Ren turned to run, but as he turned, pairs of arms wrapped around each of his, grabbing tightly, Ren struggling within their hold, kicking and thrashing, twisting his body, yet their grip only tightened. 

“Morgana!” he screamed in desperation, craning his head back straining to hear his friend’s response, yet he could only hear the faint squeaks of frantic meowing as a blur of black blocked the view of the bipedal feline. 

“Get off of me!” Ren screamed, still twisting his body, trying to get away from the grip of the strong armed shadows, kicking and flailing as the shadows dragged him towards the old fashioned elevators that stood vigilantly next to the stairs. The cognitive people did nothing but watch, ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ as he was dragged into the claustrophobic box, Ren sickly noting that all of them were wearing inverted mockeries of his domino mask. The doors closed, and Ren gritted his teeth to repress a sob as the demented husks of the masses applauded joyfully at his the spectacle that was his misery, clearly entertained by it. 

The elevator shook with life before moving, Ren looking above to find them going up, the indicating lights ascending up a list of randomly placed numbers. 

“Where are you taking me?” He asks one of the shadows restraining him, turning to find the same mockery of his mask perched upon its featureless face as they ascended, “Please, answer me!”

“You’re expected by our lead actor,” the other answered, Ren whipping to look at the other shadow holding onto his other arm, “He wants you to meet him in the Fool’s Theatre, says he wants his special guest escorted to his dressing room. You know how those big shots are, they get their fifthteen minutes of fame and suddenly they act like they own the place.”

Ren wanted to laugh at the shadow’s dry joke, but he couldn’t.

The allure of the grand decorations intoxicated Morgana as he wandered within the foyer with Ren. While the cat often had his guard up (something an ‘expert thief’ was required to do) the atmosphere in this particular palace seemed to lull him into a false sense of security. It felt… comfortable. Like the makeshift bedroom in the attic of Leblanc, or the cozy room at Ren’s Tokyo apartment. Morgana couldn’t quite put his paw on it, but it felt like he was at home again, that it was familiar. 

He did not hear Ren leave his side, more occupied with the humanoid cognitions dotted around the foyer, all of them talking amongst themselves in hushed but excited tones, his ears pricking up at a conversation nearby.

“Is that him?” a woman asked her friend, looking over her shoulder. 

“It probably is!” her friend giggled in amazement, “Gosh, I’m getting all flustered, do you think if I asked for his autograph he’d give it to me?”

“Oh my god, do you think he’d take a picture with us if we asked him nicely?” 

Morgana turned to look at the two women, approaching them with caution.

“You should totally work your ‘womanly’ charms on him.”

“Do you think they’d even work on him? I think you’re just getting me to embarrass myself.”

“Of course! Then again, he’s so charming you’d probably fall flat on your face!”

Morgana looked around the theatre. There wasn’t any notable person that he could distinguish, most of the patrons looked like ordinary humans. Then again, Morgana reasons, this wasn’t a normal realm of existence.

“Who are they-”

“Oh my GOSH.” one of the girls squealed, Morgana turning his head to find the two women looking at him with wide, excited eyes. His own widened in terror. The two women were wearing masks, masks that look like Joker’s, as they continue to fawn over the feline thief, “It’s Mona-chan!”

“Mona-chan, may I get your autograph?!” her friend squealed as they approached Morgana, the both of them looking over him with disturbing glee, “Oh… you’re so cute, I could just hug you tightly like a plush!”

“Well, I appreciate the attention,” Morgana stammers, backing away from the two cognitions out of fear and disbelief, “But I’m currently in a ‘no-touch’ fur softening program, and-” 

He turns, twisting his slender body, and runs from them.

"Mona-chan, come back!!" the two conditions called out to the cat, running after him, clearly fanatical towards the cat "We just want an autograph and a picture!" 

"I'm sorry, my heart belongs only to Lady Ann!" he shouted back, weaving expertly between the legs of the cognitive guests, trying to find Ren amongst the sudden appearance of a large crowd. More whispers about what he presumed to be the Palace's owner muttered amongst the cognitions, yet he was too occupied to pay attention to their words. Peeking over his shoulder was the distraction that caused him to run into…

He stumbled back in a daze, but before he could react he was picked up by the shadow he impacted.

"There you are, you pesky cat." the shadow hisses as it picked Morgana up by the scruff of his neck. Morgana instinctively started to flail around, struggling against the sudden grip that he felt behind his throat, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth to find.”

“Let go of me!” Morgana shouted, continue to fight against the grip of the shadow, “If you don’t, I’ll-”

He heard Ren call his name in distress, the boy’s cries quickly being muffled by the crowd's cheer. With a new bolster of motivation of wanting to save Ren from the vulnerable young adult, Morgana continued to violently flail in the shadow’s grip, and has even resorted to clawing at the entity, trying desperately to force himself free from its grip. 

“Ugh, stupid cat!” The shadow spat with malice as he continued to grip roughly at Morgana, clearly taking him somewhere away from where Morgana wanted to go, “Why do I always get all the shitty jobs.” it muttered to itself, another shadow approaching Morgana and his captor. 

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” the newcomer asked in an exasperated tone, “Boss says he needs help with setting up the place for his guest. We got no time to waste in one stupid cat.”

“Yeah, but this pest won’t go willingly.” the shadow replied, still holding Morgana, “It’s fightin’ with all its might, can you give me a hand?” 

“Hey, I am not a pest!” Morgana shouted defiantly, offended that the shadows would refer to him as such, flailing even harder against his captor’s grip, “Get your hands off of me! I’m warning you guys, I can slice you in half before you can even land a finger on me!”

“Oh, he’s so cute.” the other shadow chortled as he watched the struggling cat, “It’s almost too bad that we have to throw him out, I would even consider myself a fan of him.”

“Yeah, but the boss said-”

“I know what the boss said.” the other shadow snapped, and Morgana noticed goop spilling out of the shadow’s eyes. It stepped back, contorting sickly, limb flying and bending inhumanely, its body stuttering as more ooze continued to drip from it. A pause of movement lapsed before it dissolved to the ground, before shedding its disguise, revealing it to be none other than a Dionysus. Morgana eyed the shadow in fear. 

“Hey, hold him still for a moment will you?” The Dionysus said, its fingers starting to crackle with electricity. Morgana’s eyes widened in alarm.

“C-C’mon you guys.” Morgana stammered, the moxie he showed instantaneously evaporating at the sight of the electricity dancing between the green shadow’s fingertips, “I’m s-sure you’ve got the wrong cat! Look, why don’t you let me go and I can talk it out with your boss? You wouldn’t hurt a little kitty cat like me would you?”

The two shadows looked at each other, amongst contemplatively, though their disingenuous smirks gave their true intentions away. 

“Ziodyne!”

The last thing Morgana heard before unconsciousness reaped his senses was the round of applause the cognitions gave to an unknown spectacle, Ren’s muffled yelps for help still echoing in his mind.

The sound of cars whirring past and the idle chatter of people was what stirred Morgana awake, wet concrete from a day’s rain cooled his belly, shadows cast by the buildings above sheltered him from the rays of the hazy sun. He smacked his lips as he felt himself slowly stirring from his slumber, ears folded downwards towards the sides of his head, his legs trembling somewhat as he got up from the ground. 

“Ren?” he asked, turning behind him, scanning the dark alleyway he suddenly appeared in, mind still heavy from whatever happened to him moments ago. His eyes drooped as he continued to lazily gaze into the shadows. 

“Ren?” he asked again, words slurred. Where was the boy? Where was- 

Oh. He suddenly remembered. 

His ears shot up, his senses on high alert, memories that were lost clicked back into place. He and Ren were investigating that Palace, Ren was captured and dragged further in, him getting thrown out with no way of getting back. The cat started to panic, adrenaline running through his small body, heart beating faster and faster, him feeling like he’s drowning on dry land. Ren was in danger, he was in danger and Morgana could do nothing to help his friend! He felt useless as he paced around the empty alleyway, tracing invisible circles with his tracks as he tried to come up with a plan. 

“Come on, Morgana.” he hissed at himself, his mind running full gear, yet the heavy fog of anxiety did nothing to help him come up with a plan. How to get into the Metaverse without a phone? Without a Nav? He was lost. Alone. vulnerable…

He gazed up at the sky. He felt so small. Like when he was alone after defeating the False God, disappearing in front of his friends, only to reappear alone in Shibuya. 

He looked at the passing pedestrians, until he was struck with inspiration. He found his way back to Leblanc on his own before, right? Then there was the possibility of him finding the route back to the rundown cafe yet again. He knew he had at least an ally there, a person who he could count on at least helping him rescue Ren, and so he set off, careful not to get trampled on amongst the stampede of legs as he navigated his way around the metropolis that was Tokyo. 

  The pestering rain had stopped within the hour in the afternoon, the air hot and humid as puddles settled in the crevices of concrete, reflecting the yellows and orange sky brought by the sinking sun. The sweet, soothing sound of bird singing as they emerged from man made shelters did nothing to pierce the roar that was the constant machine of the city. Despite this, Yongen - Jaya could be considered a haven away from most of the megacity, a sanctuary formed by the rapid rise of urban demands, tucked away from tourists and troublemakers alike. 

A girl walked out from the train station burrowed amongst the tightly squeezed buildings, head down as she was gazing at her phone behind dark framed glasses, oversized headphones hugging her neck as an accessory. Her natural hair was an oddity amongst the residents that lived in the small neighbourhood, but Futaba had lived there almost her whole life for anyone to give a second glance towards her.

She typed away on the screen, a piece of sucking candy resting between the roof of her mouth and tongue, effortly navigating around people and potholes, the narrow streets memorized from traversing them so much she knew each small detail like it was the back of her hand. 

Futaba: yooooooooo kana guess what!!! Futaba: sojiro gave me some cash to go buy school stuff!!!!! on my own!!! Kana: that’s great omg! I didn’t do anything as fun today (；￣Д￣) Futaba: oh f Kana: work is a paaain sometimes, but i’ve almost got enough money to buy some new uniforms Futaba: oooooooo!!!! Kana: ikr!!!! anyways youre still in shujin right? Futaba: yeah, it’s too easy (－_－) zzZ Kana: oof Futaba: like I know it’s not prestigious but like….. booooooring Kana: didn’t you like ask to be enrolled there???? Futaba: yeah lol Futaba: i wanted to go there bc a really good friend went there and like

"Futaba!"

The girl looks up from her phone at the sound of her name. 

"Futaba..." 

The voice sounded familiar…. wasn't that…

"Down here!" 

She looked down, a familiar black and white cat looking up at her with blue eyes. 

"Mona?!" she exclaimed, crouching down to meet Morgana at his level, "What are you doing here? Where's Ren?" her eyebrows knitted. It was an enigma to see the cat separated from his beloved owner, and while Morgana was known to wander the streets of Tokyo on his own, he almost never did so without Ren a stone’s throw away.

"That's exactly why I came here." he replied, mowing in great urgency, "Ren's in trouble, and we need everyone's help if we're gonna rescue him. And I need a place to stay." He added, the last sentence spoken with a sheepish tone.

Futaba's eyes widened at the news that her brother figure was in trouble.

“Ren is in…? Ren is in…!?”

She suddenly crouched down. 

“Ren is... is…”

Her breaths became fast and ragged and strained. 

“..is…”

Her heart drummed and thumped in her ears, consuming her hearing entirely. 

“Ren…”

She felt dizzy. Her eyes unfocused.

“Futaba?” Morgana asks, “Are you-”

She suddenly scoops the feline up, “What happened Mona?!” she shouted as she gently but firmly shook Morgana, “Did, did Shido’s men get him? Did someone else!? Please, tell me!”

“Futaba, stooooop!” Morgan shrieked, yet to all other bystanders, he was meowing furiously, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Oh, sorry.” she stops, gently putting the cat down, “But still, what’s going on?!”

Her voice started to crack. Morgana looked around their surroundings. 

“Let’s go somewhere private.” Morgan said, as he turned to lead the girl towards Leblanc, “Leblanc is still open, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re not allowed there Mona.” Futaba points out, suddenly grabbing the cat, Morgana yelping in surprise, “Remember? Sojiro doesn’t want pets around food. You were only allowed in because you were always in Ren’s bag.”

“Not always.” Morgana huffs. 

“Yeah right.” Futaba scoffs, though her anxiety did not quite dissipate from her voice, “Anyway, since we need a place to talk privately, I have somewhere in mind.”

“Where?”

“My room, you dumb.”

The only light in the room clicked on, Futaba wandering the cramp space with Morgana in her arms, her shopping bag full of stationary supplies hanging off her arm. She pushed the door to her room with her right foot, before settingling the contents she held onto her bed that sat nearby, Morgana hopping off and making himself comfortable amongst her untidy sheets as she dumped the bag she held before diving into her expensive looking office chair.

“So…” Futaba begins, eyeing the cat behind the frames of her glasses, brown eyes somewhat obscured by the lens from the glare of the lights above, “About….. About Ren.”

Morgana could tell that her facade was starting to crumble, her anxiety too overwhelming for her to swallow, hugging her legs, him thinking she was trying to comfort herself. He settled himself on the bed, before starting his explanation. 

“Well...” he began, yet he was unsure where to start, looking down at his white paws, “I haven’t really processed everything myself…”

“Mona, please! I need to know!”

Morgana looked at Futaba, seeing that she was starting to cry. 

“Okay… so… we were in Tokyo at around lunchtime. Ren was checking his emails for his letter of acceptance,”

“The one for that culinary school, right?” Futaba asks, Morgana nodding. 

“Yeah. I asked him what it said as I couldn’t see the screen when he checked, but before he could respond he suddenly fainted.” 

“He… suddenly fainted?” she asks, surprised, “Was he sick? Did he catch a cold earlier?” 

“Not that I recall.” Morgana hummed doubtfully, “He was fine this morning, jittery even. Him fainting came out totally from nowhere. And so… when he fell, so did I.”

“Ouch, that must have hurt.” Futaba winced, yet she silently motioned Morgana to continue. 

“Well, I woke up.”

“Yeah… but.”

“But what?”

Morgana looked down for a moment, hesitant to speak. Futaba gritted her teeth, anxiety again flaring up, squeezing her throat as her grip on her anxiety rapidly loosened between her fingers, “Mona. Mona I need to know.” her voice wavered, “Where did you wake up?”

“I... I woke up in the Metaverse.” 

Pause. Neither of them made a sound. Morgana’s eyes gazed down. Futaba was too stunned to speak, too alarmed about the news of the re-emergence of that other world. 

“You… you woke up in the Metaverse?!” Futaba half exclaimed, repeating Morgana to process the information for herself, yet she felt repeating the cat’s words with her voice only incurred more disbelief as she continued to inquire him, “The Metaverse.... It’s back?! How?!”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Morgana continued before Futaba’s thoughts could snowball into a panic attack, “But at the time, I was more concerned about Ren. He was dragged in there as well, and had no idea how we even got there.”

“Did he have his phone with him?” the girl asks, inching closer to the animal companion, “He must have accidentally tapped on the nav as it appeared.”

“That’s one of the things that bothers me about this situation.” Morgana admits, looking up at Futaba, “But, we woke up, his phone just… disappeared.”

“It… disappeared!?” 

“Yeah. He swore he had with him before. He must have had, but when we woke up it was gone.” 

“That’s… that’s…”

Morgana continued, “That wasn’t it. While Ren was looking for his phone I spotted-”

“A Palace.” Futaba finishes, Morgana nodding. 

“Yeah, a Palace. You should have seen the surrounding area though.” he says, “While the rest of the surrounding buildings would remain intact, this palace had absolutely nothing surrounding it. Nothing but barren land, like the desert surrounding your palace.” 

“A distortion that severe?” she mumbles, sitting back in her chair, “Whoever’s palace this is, definitely has a warped view on the World.”

“I agree.” Morgana nods, “So either the Palace Ruler only cares about nothing but themselves, or is a total shut in to have the surroundings distort that hard.”

“Like Shido… or me.”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” Futaba thinks, though her anxiety still caused the rapid thumping of her heart, “So the Palace Ruler sounds really powerful to be able to drag you into the Metaverse, but distorted enough to have the surroundings distort that much. What was the Palace anyway?”

“That’s another aspect of this that bothers me.” Morgana says, an ear of his twitching as he continued, “It was something really unexpected: it was a theatre.” 

“Why would someone, who has such a severe distortion, have a theatre as a palace?” Futaba points out quizzically, “That’s really, really weird!”

“There’s more.” Morgana informs her, “When we went in there were cognitions of people. They were wearing masks. Joker’s mask.”

An alarm rang in Futaba’s head.

“J-Joker’s mask?! Are we dealing with a fan of some kind?!”

"Seems like it." Morgana agrees, flicking his two as he contemplates the possibility  "It's the only explanation that makes sense. But that has to mean that the owner knows Ren is a Phantom Thief. But..." 

He sighs in frustration, Futaba feeling her own sense of perplexion at the situation they were in, "It just doesn't make any sense!" 

Futaba's gaze trails down towards the floor, silence falling between the two occupants. 

An idea struck her mind, Futaba quickly grabbing her phone, typing away. 

"What are you doing?" Morgana asks, perking somewhat in surprise. 

Futaba: hey guys we got a problem

Futaba: like a really super big boss level problem

"Messaging the others." she answers back flatly, "If the Metaverse has come back and Ren's in trouble, we gotta get the others into this." 

Her phone chimes with a new message:

Ryuji: yo what is it futaba Ryuji: did you forget to pre order a thing again

Futaba scoffs at Ryuji's message. Morgana jumps off her bed and onto her lap, the girl yelling at surprise by the sudden feeling of fur brush on her thighs. 

Yusuke: I'm positive that Futaba has already pre ordered all the things she wants Ryuji, even if it seems pointless to you. Ryuji: i dunno man, i think it's kinda dumb to buy something really expensive just for some plastic…. Yusuke: She just sees value in things you don't, Ryuji. Ryuji: yeah says the guy who bought TWO LOBSTERS that one time Yusuke: That was a year and a half ago. When are you going to let go of that purchase? Ryuji: dude I'm just saying that you buy weird shit as well lol Ann: guys pls behave! futaba, I'm sorry you have to share a chat with these isiots omg Haru: What's the matter, Futaba-chan? Are you okay? Ann: *idiots Yusuke: What about that one occasion with that bracelet, Ryuji? Ryuji: i said it was an accident!

Futaba growled in annoyance as her phone continued to chime with messages.

Yusuke: 1,000 yen down the drain just because you lost it the next day. Makoto: Ryuji and Yusuke, are you seriously arguing about this now? Yusuke: At least my lobsters were key to developing my art. Ryuji: wtf yusuke you lost them the next day Ryuji: how did you lose a buncha lobsters??? Ryuji: IN A DORM Yusuke: I did not! They simply were thrown out by the staff… Makoto: It was silly to buy live lobsters without a proper container to house them… Haru: I remember everyone telling me about Yusuke’s lobsters when I first joined. Ann: guys didn’t futaba want to talk about something???

The ginger haired girl gritted her teeth in place of amusement. She loved her friends, but the last thing she needed was for them to mess around. 

Haru: I still can’t believe he did so, but at the same time it is a very Yusuke thing. Ryuji: god ikr haru??

Didn’t they know that Ren was in trouble? 

Ann: pfft that day was wild, i think we should go to the beach sometime again Ryuji: yeah so as long as uni doesn’t fuck me up again Yusuke: If you studied, university should be easy. Ryuji: I DO Yusuke: At least university is somewhat easier compared to the entrance exams… Haru: I would love to go to the beach with you guys! Makoto: I agree with Haru. I know I have a lot on my plate but I’ll be sure to plan ahead for all of you!

Futaba shakes with frustration. The phone in her hands shakes, she starts to tear up.

Haru: I really would have liked to, I’m still so jealous you got to go with Futaba! Makoto: We should ask Ren if he wants to go as well. Ryuji: oh yeah speaking of futaba, what’s ur prob girl Ann: og yeah futaba has a problem right?

She can’t take it anymore. 

Futaba: REN IS IN TROUBLE Makoto: I completely forgot, sorry Futaba, what were you about to say? 

Futaba sobs.Her tears falling down her face. Her phone fell silent. 

What seemed like an eternity, it rang back to life again.  

Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Ann: WHAT Haru: What???? Makoto: WHAT??? Yusuke: What happened? Futaba: mona came to find me Futaba: he said that the metaverse is back Makoto: Morgana is with you? Ryuji: but i thought we destroyed that shit! Ann: I thought we destroyed it!? Futaba: and there was a palace Haru: The Metaverse is back?! Yusuke: How is the Metaverse back? Futaba: and ren got caught Ryuji: OH FUCK Ryuji: BUT HOW?! Ann: how did he get caught!? 

Futaba wipes the tears off from her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Morgana, who was reading the chat logs alongside the girl, snuggled against her chest as an attempt to comfort her.

Makoto: That’s highly unusual of him. Yusuke: Ren is a dramatic person, but even he wouldn’t be so careless as to get himself caught during a palace exploration. 

“You should tell them.” Morgana suggests. He would have done it himself, lamenting the fact that he did not have hands or fingers. Futaba nodded, sniffling as her fingers still shook. 

Ryuji: how did he get caught? Ann: why didn’t he tell us? Futaba: mona said he didn’t have his powers. Futaba: his outfit was gone. Futaba: and he lost his phone. 

Another pause of silence. 

Ryuji: what the shit….. Ann: what the…. Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Haru: … Makoto: But… why? Futaba: mona thinks that it’s a phantom thief fan or something Futaba: but even he’s not sure Haru: What was the palace? Ryuji: FAN MY ASS Makoto: But that doesn’t make any sense! Futaba: it was a theatre Makoto: For Ren to not be considered a threat and to get kidnapped Ann: a theatre, like where plays are performed? Makoto: The ruler must know that Ren is a Phantom Thief! Futaba: i guess Haru: Could it be one of Ren’s other friends that was aware about his identity? Ryuji: dude if it turned out to be mishima i’ll be so fucking angry Ann: But didn’t we change his heart ages ago? Makoto: I don’t think it’s Mishima. Haru: Yeah, I agree with Makoto. Makoto: Although I wouldn’t rule it out, it’s highly unlikely to be him at least. Yusuke: Futaba, did Morgana catch a glimpse at the owner’s shadow? 

Futaba looked at the cat, who shook his head. 

Futaba: no Haru: How unfortunate Ann: uh guys. Ryuji: what is it ann Yusuke: Yes, Ann? Makoto: Where’s Yoshizawa-chanby the way? Ann: i got a weird notif on my phone Haru: She’s most likely at practise, she should be on soon.

Futaba’s eyebrows knit together. A strange notification? 

Futaba: from what app? Ann: i dunno but I don’t recognise it Futaba: can you tap it? Ryuji: probs an app you forgot you downloaded Yusuke: I got the same notification. Ryuji: wait what?! Makoto: I just did as well. Haru: Me too. I don’t remember downloading anything. Ryuji: shit me too, this is effing weird Ryuji: i’m gonna check it out

Her phone chimed, an alert sent to her phone as a banner dropped down on her screen. Sliding to properly assess the notification, she read it. 

“THIS IS YOUR INVITATION TO THE PREMIER TO WITNESS THE SHOW THAT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD. BOOK NOW TO…” the notification read. Under normal circumstances, Futaba would dismiss it, already tired with the constant advertisements that seem to be able to continually slither their way onto their phone. However she didn’t. What caught her eye was not the message itself, but the small icon next to it alongside the lack of an app name.

The icon was red, black and white. It looked like… Joker’s mask. 

She tapped on it, eager yet scared to see what it entailed. Her phone stopped for a second. Futaba waited impatiently, for she would have thought the phone had frozen on her had digital numbers of the internal clock had not ticked by past one minute after six.

Before she could utter a curse, the screen suddenly faded into black, transitioning to a screen she thought she’d never see again. 

“The Nav?” she says curiously, Morgana sitting up, the reappearance of the navigation app too peaked his interest. 

“Is there a bookmark?” Morgana asks, caning his head to meet her eyes, “Check to see if there is one.” 

Futaba nods, once again scanning the options of the demented Navigation App before tapping on ‘Bookmarks’. She sees there is one entry. She taps on it. 

Ryuji: what the FUCK Ryuji: FUCK 

Her eyes widened. Her mouth hung agape.

Makoto: What’s wrong, Ryuji? Ryuji: CHECK THE NOTIF Ryuji: NOW 

She covers her mouth as she choked a sob. Morgana rereads the entry over and over in utter disbelief. 

Ann: OH MY GOD Yusuke: Is this some kind of sick prank?! Ann: OH MY GOF

“T-that’s impossible.” Morgana stammers, the colour of Futaba’s face now flushed out, her shaking almost violently, tears again flowing along the cusp of her eyes. 

Makoto: I… I don’t even know what to say… Haru: Mona-chan said it was impossible! It should be, right? Ann: GUYS WHAT THE FUCK Ryuji: I KNOW RIGHT LIKE FOR REAL?!?!?!

“It should be!” the feline exclaims, “It should!”

Makoto: I don’t know how to feel. 

Yusuke: This is absolutely surreal. This must be a dream. 

Ann: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Yusuke: I even pinched myself.... Ryuji: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Futaba stares at the words. The key words. The key words to a palace. The key words to a palace that should be impossible to form. The key words to a palace that should not have existed.

The words taunted her. Glowing on her phone. She read them again, unable to keep her composure. 

They read: 

‘Name: Ren Amamiya. 

Distortion: Theatre. 

Location: The World.’

Darkness occupied his vision, Ren feeling the blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. It was before he entered the theater on the top floor did the shadows decide to blindfold him, a cruel joke he decided, still feeling the bruises on his arms from the attempt to free himself as they robbed him of his sight. His arms were tied to something hard. Arm rests, he assumed, rope digging into his wrists. He was at least thankful that whatever he was bound to was comfortable, his body sinking into plush material.

He waited. Even took a nap, but when he awoke barely anything in his surroundings stirred.

With nothing to do, his mind wandered back to the numbers of the elevator. They made absolutely no sense to him. Why were they in a particular pattern? 

Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. What did they mean? Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He thought some more. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He bit his lip in thought. Three, star, six, four- 

The door to his prison opened. Heels clicked satisfyingly on the hard floor, the flap of a long coat could be heard as the door thud shut. 

The mysterious newcomer hummed a tune somewhat recognisable by the bound boy. The footsteps got somewhat quieter. Ren could hear a rustle and the clink of ice knocking on glass, the swirling of liquid as it filled its container. The newcomer puts a container down, a sniff, a sip and a satisfied sigh. Ren said nothing. He dared not. 

The footsteps started again, getting louder, the rattle of ice in water knocking glass more audible. The figure still hummed, carefree as Ren could feel their gaze trail along his body. They stopped when Ren could feel someone in front of him, the slight clinking of glass and the breaths from his observer almost syncing with the frenzied beating of his heart that banged rhythmically on his eardrums. 

He felt a hand, a gloved hand, roughly grab the blindfold, yanking it upward. Ren yelps, the sudden action combined with the pain of the yank and the lights above seering his unfocused eyes that blinded him causing him pain. He squeezes his eyelids shut before opening them, blinking rapidly, the same gloved hand gently caresses his chin before tilting his head upwards.

When his eyes finally focused, he found familiar golden eyes framed behind a familiar mask staring back at grey.