#There are other tags I would be more worried about if I were you

[chahnniesroom]

coming up roses

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: most of the time, you're grateful to have such a good relationship with your older brother, minho. but when you find yourself falling for his best friend, chan, you can't help but be worried how he'll react when he finds out. you soon find yourself struggling with the unexpected consequences of keeping your feelings a secret.

word count: 10.2k

tags/warnings: hanahaki!au (read a/n), brother's best friend!au, hurt/comfort, angst, lots of fluffy sibling dynamics between minho and y/n, bad communication by the reader, mentions of: coughing, blood, and vomiting

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: i have finally written my hanahaki au!!! this took me ages, but i really really wanted to write a fic based on how this post describes hanahaki because i love this interpretation (hanahaki is from supressing feelings instead of unrequited love) a lot more than how it's usually written (not that that version is bad!). i actually wish i could have drawn this out more, but didn't have it in me haha

the phrase "it's all coming up roses" means that everything is going well with someone and i thought it was so perfectly ironic for a hanahaki fic where a character actually has roses coming up in the literal sense.

Minho has always been protective. You had felt cool and invincible as a child, having an older brother that was willing to have your back and scare away anybody that teased you. 

You’re grateful that he cares enough to be so involved in your life, but now that you’re in university, you can’t help but feel a little stifled. Minho takes his role as an older brother very seriously, especially since the two of you have moved out of your family home and are sharing an apartment closer to campus. It's a mixture of doting and enough teasing to drive you crazy.

Growing up, your family home had been the regular haunt of Minho and his friends. It was more common than not to get home from cram school and find the boys either lingering in the nearest convenience store or hanging out in your apartment. You wouldn't say that you were friends with the boys, but you were at least familiar enough that you would say hi to them if you saw them in the hallways and they would offer to walk home with you if you were ever leaving school at the same time.

Starting university had been hard for you, most of your friends had ended up moving to other cities or even going abroad. You, however, had decided to stick closer to home. Your program had a good reputation and your parents had promised that they would help you and Minho get an apartment close to campus as long as you lived together. Minho had readily agreed, he had commuted for his first year and had always complained about how long it took.

It was a difficult adjustment, moving out of your family home, balancing your course load, and making friends. Unlike Minho, who had used dance to find his close group of friends, you didn't have any hobbies that you were particularly passionate about and you weren't naturally outgoing or charismatic.

Especially in the first few weeks of classes, it feels like such a relief whenever you see one of Minho's friends that you latch onto them. It’s kind of awkward at first, especially because you don’t know his friends well enough to speak with them casually, but they get used to your presence. You would even consider some of them to be your friend, especially Seungmin, who shares a class with you, and Chan who usually has his lunch break at the same time as you.

You make your own friends eventually, slowly getting to know some of the people that share your program, but you’re definitely a lot closer to the boys than you were prior to university. While you spent most of your childhood calling Minho and his friends lame, you can now admit that you enjoy spending time with them, although you’d never say it to Minho’s face.

Still, Minho doesn’t always approve of who or where you hang out. Sometimes he’s even nosier than your parents were, always asking you about your schedule and calling when you’re out late. He warns you about spending time one-on-one with men and makes sure that you always have your location shared with him. You tolerate it for the most part, knowing that it’s his way of showing that he cares about you, but sometimes you just find him overbearing.

—

“I’m going out next Saturday,” Minho tells you one evening as you step out of your room to get a glass of water. “You’ll have to figure out something for dinner on your own.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly a little nervous. “I uh- I also have plans that night.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “What are you going to be doing?”

“There’s a party that I was invited to,” you say, biting your lip when you see Minho freeze. You turn your gaze to the ground, but you can still feel Minho's stare intensify. 

“What party,” he demands, not even bothering to frame it as a question.

“Does it matter?” you whine, annoyed by how protective Minho is. It’s even worse that you have an audience, Chan is over and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s watching your conversation curiously.

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“I think it's at Taehoon's,” your voice is barely a whisper. Minho hears you anyway.

“Taehoon?” He repeats in disbelief. You glance up briefly. Minho's ears are flushed bright red and the tendons in his neck are standing out. He's furious. “Taehoon, who is four years older than you? Taehoon, who holds off-campus parties?”

You grimace and don't respond. There’s no way that he’s going to let you go, you resign yourself to a weekend stuck in your room watching dramas while your friends enjoy themselves. 

It’s bad enough that you had to mention Taehoon, who doesn’t have the best reputation, but you’ve forgotten that Minho would easily be able to recognize the type of party that he throws. You haven’t been to many university parties, but even you know that without the dorm restrictions, off-campus parties are often the wildest and were harder to get invited to. It’s not that you particularly care to attend this party in specific, you just don’t want to miss out since all of your friends will be there.

“Minho,” Chan steps in, clasping a heavy hand on your brother's shoulder.

“Who invited you,” Minho seethes, shaking Chan off.

“Just one of my friends,” you deflect.

“Minho,” Chan says again, this time jostling Minho enough that he turns his attention away from you finally. Your body sags in relief. “Chill, we're going to Taehoon's next weekend. It's just a party.”

“Yes, we are going. Not my baby sister! Y/n-ah, the answer is no.”

“Oppa!” you complain. “I'm not a baby anymore!”

“You don't know anything,” Minho hisses at you. 

“We were going to way crazier parties when we were Y/n's age,” Chan interrupts one more time. “Come on, at least we'd be able to keep an eye on her.”

Minho is about to reply when he stops and tilts his head in thought.

“Okay,” he says slowly, turning back to you with a gleam in his eye. “You can go, Y/n.”

“Really?” you brighten instantly even though you’re a little bit suspicious of his sudden change in heart.

Your breath catches in your throat as you excitedly make eye contact with Chan. He winks at you teasingly before turning his full attention back to Minho, who thankfully hadn’t noticed.

“You're coming with us,” Minho says, nodding decisively.

“Are you kidding me,” you reply flatly, all enthusiasm vanishing instantly.

“Yes. I'll make sure that everybody knows not to mess with you and you still can have fun with your silly little friends. Unless you don't want to go anymore?” Minho raises an eyebrow at you.

“Fine, I'll go with you,” you grumble.

“It'll be fun, Y/n! I promise that I won’t let Minho embarrass you,” Chan says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You try not to shiver as he leans in to whisper to you, close enough that you can almost feel his lips touching your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find something or someone to distract him enough that he’ll forget you’re even there.”

“Okay,” you breathe shakily.

“Hey!” Minho pulls Chan off of you and into a headlock. “Whatever you’re scheming, cut it out. Y/nnie, don’t listen to a single thing this idiot tells you.”

“I try not to listen to idiots,” you say. “That’s why I never follow any of the advice that you give me!”

“Y/n-ah-” Minho starts.

You stick out your tongue at him childishly then dart to your room, slamming the door and locking it behind you so that Minho can’t follow you. The sound of Chan’s resulting laugh echoes through your head for the rest of the day.

—

By the time the weekend rolls around, you're a little worried that you’ve caught a cold. Your throat is achy and talking too much makes you cough, but you're not feeling any other symptoms so you don't think you're actually sick. Minho wasn't exactly pleased when you told him you were still planning on going, but he kept his word and didn't try to convince you otherwise.

Your friends are all getting ready together at one of their dorms, but your brother was adamant that he wanted you to go to the party with him and his friends. You're more comfortable getting changed and doing your makeup at home anyway, so it's not a big deal, but it's still not the same. 

Conversation pauses when you finally exit your room. Only Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho are still in the living area since most of Minho's friends are crowded around your apartment's entryway, shuffling to get their jackets and put on their shoes.. Their eyes widen and you see Hyunjin choke on the drink he had just taken a sip of. You tug at the hem of your skirt slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

You've worn this outfit before with friends and while it's definitely not the most conservative option in your closet, it's nowhere near as revealing as what you expect other girls will be wearing. It's just that you're not used to being around Minho's friends when you've put so much effort into your appearance and are showing off a bit of skin. They’ve seen you at your worst and are most familiar with the comfortable sweats and hoodies that you usually wear around your home.

Minho recovers the fastest. In a flash, he's made his way to you and has a death grip on your arm, trying to drag you back into your room. You resist, digging your heels in to try and make it harder for him, but it barely even slows him down.

“Oppa!”

“You are not leaving looking like this,” Minho huffs through gritted teeth.

“Minho-ya, come on. We're going to be late if you make her change,” Chan calls out. It draws the attention of the rest of the boys, who turn to look at the commotion. You hear Jisung wolf-whistle teasingly which only makes things worse. Minho's hand tightens even more around you, hard enough that you're sure it's going to bruise, and he whips around to glare at Jisung.

“Hyung, it's fine. Y/n-ah looks good,” Seungmin chimes in, before winking at you. You groan internally, knowing from the look in his eye that you're not going to like what he says next. “Is there a boy that you're trying to impress tonight?”

“No!” you deny immediately, still trying to pull your arm from your brother's grip to no avail. Your chest tightens at the idea of being forced to stay at home. Minho immediately latches onto the idea that Seungmin has thrown out, his expression darkening even further.

“Is it true?” he questions you.

“Oppa, I promise, I'm just matching with my friends. Which you would know if we actually go to the party!”

“If there is, you better tell me,” he warns.

“Yes, yes,” you groan. “If there was, which there isn't! You're just wasting time now.”

“At least put on a jacket, you’re going to be cold.”

“Fine.” You wrench your arm out of Minho's grasp and stalk to your room. You grab the first jacket you see, intent on ditching it the second that you get to the party, then head straight to the door, breezing past Minho on your way. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he says in a flat voice that says he is anything but.

—

Your apartment is not too far away from the party, so it’s not long before everyone is unloading from their cars and approaching the party. You can hear the bass pounding even from outside the building and you’re sure that there will be a number of neighbours that file noise complaints by the end of the night.

When you make it in, your friends greet you enthusiastically, but are all a little bit weird, fixing their hair more than usual and giggling nervously. You’re not close with all of the girls that are in the group, some of them you can’t even recall if you’ve met before, but you can still tell that everyone is acting strangely. 

It's not until you turn around that you realise that Minho has practically stationed himself behind you and is glowering at anybody who looks your way too long. After years of being on the receiving end of his glares, you’ve grown immune, but everybody else is clearly at least a little intimidated.

“Oppa,” you hiss. He barely spares you a glance. “You're not seriously going to babysit me all night, are you?”

“I'm letting you do what you want so you should let me do whatever I want,” he replies primly. 

You know there's no convincing him on your own. From across the room, you manage to catch Chan's eye and nod your head in Minho's direction. Luckily, he knows exactly what you're trying to say and makes his way over quickly to stand beside Minho.

“Minho-ya, you don't have a drink yet?” he asks, before pointedly taking a sip of his own cup.

“I asked Yongbokkie and Seungmin to make me one,” he replies, unphased.

“And you trust them that much?”

At the same time, the two of them glance over to the kitchen. You follow their gaze to find Felix, Seungmin, as well as Jisung mixing together a concoction that looks not only toxic, but also disgusting. You want to gag when you see them add in soju, hot sauce, milk, and maraschino cherries in quick succession. That’s not even considering whatever they’ve already put into the cup before you looked over. There's no way they actually think the combination could taste good and Minho must agree because he stands up and starts stalking towards them, swearing to himself the whole time.

After Minho leaves, Chan wanders a bit closer to you and brushes a hand against your shoulder lightly. You have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

“I told you, I got you tonight. Don't worry about your brother breathing down your neck,” he says lowly. Just like when he first promised to distract your brother, Chan winks at you, then follows after Minho.

You force yourself not to stare after him, cheeks flushing as the rest of the girls squeal. Some of your friends have met Minho in passing a couple times, but not any of his friends. Your brother's dance crew has become wildly popular this year, but luckily it's not widely known that you are close with them. You prefer to keep it that way, but it seems like revealing your relation to them is unavoidable tonight. It's just your luck that some of these girls are among the ‘fans’ that your brother has somehow amassed.

“Y/nnie,” a girl beside you pouts. “How come you've never mentioned you know Lee Minho and Bang Chan before? I can't believe you've never introduced him to us!”

“I-” you splutter, still flustered by how close Chan was to you.

“I saw you show up with all eight of them,” another girl interupts. Someone else gasps as if you've committed a serious crime. “You actually know them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“I heard that you called Minho oppa, are you two dating?” the first girl asks.

“What? No!” you quickly deny, disgusted by the very thought of that.

“Oh come on, you don't think that they're ridiculously attractive?” someone else chimes in. The whole group murmurs in agreement. They have more and more questions for you and start to talk over each other.

“Minho's my brother! As in, we share the same parents, that’s why I call him oppa.” you exclaim, before things can spiral further. “And ew, he is definitely not attractive!”

The group is stunned into silence for a moment before exploding in noise. There are girls offended on Minho’s behalf, some asking what him and his friends are like, and others who beg you to introduce them.

Your best friend chooses that moment to speak up, reminding you why she is one of your favourite people in the world.

“Let’s play a drinking game!” she exclaims loudly. She holds up a couple bottles of soju that you’re not sure where she’s been hiding and starts filling up everyone’s cup. Luckily the girls are easily distracted by alcohol, enough that the topic is changed without too much of a fuss. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

—

After a few drinks, you eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re definitely on your way to being tipsy, but not enough that you feel unsteady on your feet. The loud music makes it a bit difficult to focus and people have filled every corner of the house, but you’re somehow able to find an unoccupied bathroom.

You take an extra moment to splash yourself with water before you leave, you’re feeling a bit sticky from sweating and when one of your friends spilled a bit of their drink on you. When you finish, you swing open the door and immediately apologise when you narrowly miss hitting a guy who has been waiting in the hall. He waves it off, but doesn’t make a move to enter the bathroom, instead stepping a bit closer to you. 

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing here all on her own?” he slurs, crowding further into your personal space. It’s dark, but you can still tell that his eyes are red and unfocused and hair is matted to his forehead. He's drunk. 

You swallow hard, trying not to panic. You have to treat this situation delicately and somehow make your disinterest clear without provoking or offending him.

“I’m not alone.” You can’t help but laugh nervously, taking a step back. Your stomach churns when your shoulder knocks into the wall behind you and you realise you have nowhere else to go. “My friends are actually probably wondering what’s taking me so long, I’ll just-”

“S’okay, I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if you were gone a little longer.” He leans in until he’s close enough that you can smell the sourness of his sweat and the alcohol on his breath. “I just wanna get t’know you a bit better.”

He smiles down at you in a way that he must think is attractive. It makes you want to vomit.

“No thanks, I’m just going to head-” Your voice is shrill with panic, you can barely recognize it.

You try to shuffle to the side, but the guy slaps his hand against the wall, trapping you even more. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest. He reaches out and traces one of your cheeks with a clumsy hand, ignoring the way that you cringe away.

“Aww c’mon darling, don’t be like that. I can promise you a good time.”

You know a bit of self defense, but this is far from a fair fight. This guy is significantly taller than you and probably double your weight. Even drunk, he can likely overpower you without even trying.

Before you can make a move, an arm slings around the drunk guy’s shoulder, jostling him to the side. Your heart sinks. There was a small chance that you’d have been able to escape, but not if you’re outnumbered.

“Hey mate,” the new person says. Your head shoots up at the familiar voice. Chan. “You seem pretty sloshed.”

Chan nudges the guy again, this time creating a little space that makes you feel less trapped. His body language is loose and relaxed, but the expression on his face is another story. His gaze is intense as he scans you, softening by a fraction when you nod that you’re fine.

“M’not,” the guy argues. He squints up at Chan. “Do I even know you? Get lost, I’m busy right now.”

“Why don’t you go outside and get some air? It’s gotten pretty stuffy in here.” It’s not a suggestion. Chan’s words are friendly, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

The guy opens his mouth, likely to protest, but promptly shuts it when he sees the look on Chan’s face. The two of you watch as he stumbles away without a fight, bumping into a few other people in his haste to leave. Now that you’re alone, Chan backs up, giving you more space to breathe.

“Sorry about that,” Chan says, hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “Didn't want to be too aggressive. It just- you looked like you needed some help.”

“Some people just don’t know how to take no for an answer,” you say quietly. It’s just another thing to be grateful for when Chan doesn’t comment on the shakiness of your voice. Instead, his expression darkens further before he composes himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively. 

“Yeah, you came at just the right time.” You look away, a bit embarrassed that he had to step in and rescue you, but he puts a finger under your chin and uses it to turn your face back to him. It feels so different from when the drunk guy touched you that you don’t want him to stop. His eyes search yours for a moment and whatever he finds must satisfy him.

“You should probably rejoin your friends.” Chan starts to step away, but you reach out and snag his sleeve before he can go. 

“Chan-oppa.”

He pauses, turning back to look at you again.

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, although you’re not sure what he’s hoping you say.

“Please don’t tell my brother about this,” you plead. Chan’s expression drops a little, clearly that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he’s still quick to reassure you.

“No, yeah, of course. I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Of course,” Chan repeats.

“And… thank you.” You rise up on your toes and kiss his cheek quickly, then slip away towards where your friends are before you can see what his reaction is. 

—

It takes a few days for you to recover from the party. You hadn’t drunk enough to be hungover, but just remembering your interaction with Chan makes you want to bury yourself in your bed and never leave. Luckily Minho hasn't questioned your change in behaviour much, but you can tell that he's getting sick of your wallowing, even if he doesn't know the reason behind it. 

“Yah, Y/n-ah!” Minho bangs on your door. “We’re heading out for gukbap in 5 minutes, are you coming?”

He doesn’t specify who the ‘we’ is, you know who to expect. Of course, Chan is included. It’s easy to make a decision.

“Go without me!” you yell back.

“Eh? Open up.”

“Just come in, it’s unlocked.”

You hear the door open and Minho approaches. He prods at your prone form with one of his feet.

“What’s up with you? You never say no to gukbap.”

“Nothing!” you groan.

“You’ve been acting strange since that stupid party, what are you hiding?” He pokes at you again, this time a bit harder.

“Oppa,” you complain, lifting yourself out of your blankets to swat at his foot. “I promise that I have nothing to hide, I just don’t feel like hanging out with your friends today.”

“They haven’t done anything, have they?” Minho asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Channie-hyung asked me if you were doing okay.”

“No! I-” you choke on your spit in your haste to answer, leading to a coughing fit that leaves you with tears gathering in your eyes. You clear your throat roughly then continue. “No, Chan-oppa and the rest of your friends have all been nice to me.”

“Oppa?” 

Whoops, you hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“What?” you whine. “You’re the one who forces me to hang out with them all the time! You told me to stop being so formal around them. They kept telling me too, it got really annoying.”

“Hmm,” Minho huffs, not quite convinced.

“Really,” you insist. “I just don’t want to go out today, I promise.”

“Okay,” Minho says reluctantly before he gets uncharacteristically serious. “But you know, you're my little sister, you can always come to me if something or someone is bothering you right?”

“I- yeah of course, oppa.” You feel kind of touched, not used to Minho openly showing that he cares about you, even though you know he does. It's enough that your throat feels tight with emotion, but you force yourself to speak through it. “Thank you. I always know that I can count on you.”

“I'm the only one allowed to mess with you,” he says sweetly, ruffling your hair so that it sticks up the way he knows you hate. “If anyone else does, I'll make sure that they regret the day that they were born.”

You try to ignore the guilt that curls in your stomach as you watch Minho leave. You hate hiding things from him, but you're still confused by your own emotions and you're worried by how he'll react.  Minho has always been your biggest supporter in everything except for your love life, which he is strictly against no matter how much you try to reason with him. 

You can’t imagine how much worse it would be if he found out that the person you’re interested in is one of his friends. You’ve heard him warn the whole group that you were off limits. He’d use a joking tone, but everyone knew that he was actually serious about it.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter because you’re almost certain that nothing will ever come of your feelings, Chan is way out of your league so there’s no point in even imagining a relationship together.

—

Unsurprisingly, your attempts to avoid Chan fail pretty much instantly. You're not sure how the stars aligned exactly opposite to what you were hoping, but the studio that Minho's (and therefore Chan's) dance crew uses had a schedule conflict that ended up shifting their practice times.

To your dismay, it works out so that multiple times a week, you're leaving campus at the exact same time as your brother. That in itself is not much of an issue, it's the fact that Chan lives close enough to you that the three of you commute back together. To make matters worse, Minho always invites Chan over to have dinner and Chan always accepts.

You can't fault Minho though, you know that he invites him over partly because he wants to hang out with Chan and partly because he knows that Chan might end up working throughout the night in an empty apartment and completely forget to eat. It does also bring you comfort, knowing that Chan is being cared for, that he's eating well and taking time in his day to not worry about school or dance. It's also nice for you, you've grown so used to preparing and eating dinner on your own that it's started to feel more like a chore than something to look forward to.

It's just hard. You haven't had a private conversation with Chan since the party, but you know that he wants to talk to you. 

You were so sure that he would never reciprocate your feelings, but now, you're starting to doubt yourself.

While you're on the bus home, listening to your music, you sometimes glance over to find Chan staring at you, though he's quick to look away. When the three of you are cooking in the kitchen, he's more affectionate, resting a light hand on your waist or back when he passes behind you or nudging your shoulder playfully after he makes a joke. During dinner, he makes sure that you're also engaged in conversation, asking about your classes or the few clubs that you're involved in. He sometimes brings you and Minho little treats from the convenience store and they're always in your favourite flavours.

The thing is, Chan is friendly and generous to everyone that he meets. It's hard to tell if you're reading too much into your interactions with him or if he's actually paying you more interest than usual. You've never heard of Chan dating, actually you can't recall if any of the boys in Minho's dance crew have ever had partners, but it's not for a lack of interested parties.

At times, it feels so impossible that you're embarrassed to even admit to yourself how much you like Chan. You're not blind, you know that there's a fair share of girls who are just as delusional as you are, giggling when he looks over and insisting to their friends that he's interested in them because he helped open the door for them or waved as he walked past.

In fact, some of the very moments that you keep closest to your heart sound so similar to experiences that you've heard other girls gushing about that you hate yourself for having hope that Chan would be interested in you of all people.

It's easier to pretend that there's nothing going on between the two of you. You know that if you were to confess your feelings to Chan, something you would never do, that he would be nice about it. You can almost imagine it, how flustered he would be, making up some kind of excuse about not being interested in dating because he was too devoted to school and dance. He would promise not to tell your brother about it and assure you that it wouldn't change the way that he treats you.

You've run through this hypothetical situation so many times that not only have you experienced enough mortification for a lifetime, but you've convinced yourself even further to lock your feelings up inside of you. There's no point in confessing when you're so sure that nothing will ever come from it.

—

One day, Chan is over as usual and the three of you are cooking in your tiny kitchen, elbows bumping and arms reaching over as everyone tries to make do with the small space available. 

The food is almost ready when Minho's phone rings, the special song that he has saved for Jisung. He picks it up instantly, shoving the pair of chopsticks that he's using into your hands in his haste. You can't hear what Jisung says, but Minho rolls his eyes and leaves to his bedroom, lecturing Jisung about something the whole way there.

“Hey,” Chan says softly. You try to keep yourself busy, picking up dishes and putting them into the sink for washing, but he tugs at your wrist lightly so that you face him. “Is everything good with you?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding quickly. 

“You just seem, I don't know, distracted or something these days.”

“No, it's-” You take a deep breath to collect yourself. “Thank you for asking, really. But I'm fine.”

“Okay,” Chan says, still looking concerned. “Listen, I know we haven't-”

You've never been so glad to hear Minho re-enter the room. 

“Eh? You guys haven't even finished with the food?” he complains in a whiny voice that he only really uses around Chan. “What have you guys been doing this whole time? Come on, Y/n-ah, go set the table. Hyung, I know you can't cook to save your life, but at least scoop out the rice into our bowls. I'm hungry!”

Chan drops the subject for the rest of the night, but you know that you’ve only delayed the conversation. 

—

The next day, you wake up to a dry and achy throat. This isn’t that unusual, you suffer from seasonal allergies that sometimes block your nose and force you to breathe through your mouth as you sleep. This time, it feels different. Your throat has been bothering you more than usual the past couple of weeks and while drinking a glass of water does help you wake up, it doesn’t dull the pain that persists. 

You shuffle out of bed to wash up, then head straight to the kitchen, brewing yourself a steaming mug of yuja tea. The taste is comforting, but doesn't help as much as you hoped it would. 

You get ready for school quickly, hoping to leave before Minho wakes up. You know that your classes start before him today, but he's always been an early riser, preferring to work out or spend time in the dance studio before it gets too busy.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho calls out, right as you're starting to put on your shoes. “You were going to leave without saying bye?”

“I didn’t know if you were awake,” you say, wincing when your voice still sounds rough.

“You didn’t even check.” Minho steps out of his room and unlocks the front door for you as you pull on your backpack.

“I was in a rush-” you start to say, but the rest of your sentence doesn’t manage to make its way out. Clearing your throat only irritates it further, triggering a cough that you can’t contain.

“Y/n,” Minho says, genuine concern shining in his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

He raises a hand to your forehead, but you slap it away weakly before he can check your temperature.

“I'm fine, I just have this stupid sore throat that won’t go away,” you reassure him. “I don’t think I’m sick though. The air has been so dry lately, I think I need a humidifier in my room while I sleep.”

“Aww.” Minho pinches your cheek and goes straight back to teasing you. “My delicate baby sister.”

“Ugh, forget I said anything.” You push your brother away. “Now let me go, I'm going to be late for class.”

Minho doesn't say anything in response, but the next night when you go to sleep, a new humidifier has been installed on your bedside table. 

—

In the next few weeks you find that the discomfort in your throat that has been plaguing you has evolved into something else. There’s a persistent feeling of something caught in your throat and you find yourself with a lingering dry cough that no amount of tea or medication can relieve.

One night, you wake up feeling like you can't breathe. In a panic, you untangle yourself from your sheets and get yourself into a sitting position. The change in position allows a deep cough to rattle through you, enough that you’re finally able to suck in a breath. 

Instead of phlegm or maybe a piece of food that could have been stuck in your throat, you feel something velvety in your mouth. You blindly reach for your bedside table to turn on your lamp and wonder if you’re still asleep when you find a single, dark red rose petal in the palm of your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch yourself, hard, but when your eyes open, nothing has changed.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and a cold sweat starts to form, making your pyjamas stick to your back.

You’ve heard of hanahaki disease, of course you have, but you’ve never known someone who has suffered from it. 

It makes sense, you’ve had a sore, scratchy throat and dry cough for weeks now with no other cold symptoms.

You can’t believe it though. 

Hanahaki disease was almost like an urban legend at this point, having been exaggerated and twisted so much in media that you’ve almost forgotten the reality of it. While most of the shows and books that cover this have a somewhat romantic take on it, declaring that it's caused by unrequited love, you know the real cause is your refusal to admit your feelings.

You knew that lying, to Chan, to your brother, to yourself, would have consequences. You had heard stories about how people who kept their feelings a secret were slowly choked by them, petals and leaves representing every time you had held yourself back. 

You just never thought it would happen to you.

Sure, you were interested in Chan. You found him kind, hard-working, funny, and attractive, but it's not like you were in love with him.

You crumple the petal in your hand and throw it into your garbage can. If this is your first time finding petals, you still have months until things progress to be more serious. A part of you hopes that this was some sort of one-off, that this would be the first and last time your body creates any flowers.

You turn off the light and pull the covers tightly over your body, praying that you'll wake up in the morning and find that this was all some crazy stress-related dream.

You don’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.

—

You had thought that you were pretty good at covering up your tracks, but it doesn’t take long before Minho starts piecing things together. It doesn't help over the past few days, your symptoms have steadily worsened. You’ve found yourself coughing up petals every day, enough that you're starting to grow concerned about how quickly things are progressing.

It starts when he calls you into your shared bathroom one evening. You don’t think much of it, until you find him staring at something on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asks. 

“It’s a rose petal,” you say easily, stooping down to pinch it between two fingers and dangle it in front of his face. “You’ve never seen one before?”

Minho rolls his eyes at that, swatting at you half-heartedly. You manage to dodge out of the way, but lose your grip on the petal. It flutters to the floor, but Minho swipes it out of the air.

“What’s it from? Is a boy giving you flowers?” he asks warningly, crushing the petal in his grip.

“Oppa, stop jumping to conclusions!” you groan. “It’s from a bath bomb that I tried out, I guess I missed this one when I was cleaning up.”

“Since when do you take baths?” 

“Since I got a bunch of bath bombs on sale. I thought it would be relaxing.” This time you’re the one rolling your eyes. “But if I knew that it would lead to you interrogating me, I wouldn’t have bothered buying them in the first place.”

“Fine, sorry, just- just clean up next time you’re going to make a mess in the bathroom,” Minho says, before throwing the petal at you and leaving you alone.

You watch as the petal falls onto the tiles, crumpled into a little ball from being in Minho’s fist. When you reach out to pick it up, your fingers are trembling. You’ve never been a good liar, but it seems that at least this time, your acting skills have been good enough to fool Minho.

You hear the front door close and you finally give in to the cough that you've been trying to suppress the whole conversation. 

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop the coughs that wrack your body. This time, even after you spit out a couple of petals, it still feels like there’s something stuck in your throat. After what feels like forever, that something dislodges and you find yourself holding a tiny rosebud complete with a short stem.

You stare at it in horror, you haven’t had more than petals until now. There’s a deep sense of dread that fills you. You thought that you’d have more time, it hasn’t even been a month since you had started coughing up anything.

You throw the flower into the toilet, flushing quickly so that the red petals swirl out of sight. Even after you rinse your mouth, there’s a tinge of iron that lingers.

—

You don't often visit the boys when they're at dance practice, in fact you actively avoid going to the studio. It's one thing to know that their dance crew is quite popular and another to experience it yourself.

But today you don't have much of a choice, in your rush to leave for an early lab, you completely forgot to pack an assignment that was due the same morning and had begged Minho to bring it to campus for you. You were lucky that he hadn't left the apartment yet, but he only brought it on the condition that you brought him coffee and picked your assignment up from him directly. 

It's just before 10am when you head over, which means that there's a lot of students waiting for their dance class to start, but it still surprises you to find a fairly significant crowd outside of the studio that Minho had texted you to go to. You can hear music faintly from the closed door and, as you push your way closer, find that there's a large horizontal window that has caught everyone's attention.

You get more than a fair share of dirty looks as you squeeze through the crowd and one girl even stops you as you move to open the door. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say politely.

“You're not allowed in,” she says in a haughty voice. Her acrylic nails bite into your arm, surprisingly strong for how thin she is. “Their practice isn't over.”

“You're not allowed in, I don’t need an invitation,” you say under your breath, rolling your eyes. You must not have said it quietly enough because she gasps dramatically.

“Please, you think you're special?” She looks you up and down dismissively. “You wish any of the boys would talk to someone like you.”

“You must be referring to yourself, they would never want to have to associate with someone as desperate and pathetic as you,” you snap, shouldering your way past her. She squeals, but finally lets go of you, maybe hoping that you'll get in trouble for interrupting.

You open the door just enough to slide through and carefully close it behind you so that you don’t disturb them. It’s mesmerizing, watching them all dance. They’ve been together for so long that it looks so natural for them to move in sync, although you know it’s more to do with long hours of practice and Minho’s eagle eyes pointing out any mistakes. 

None of the boys notice you at first, caught up in the chorus of the song that they're practicing, but Jeongin catches sight of you after a moment.

“Noona!” he says excitedly, abandoning the dance to run over to you. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Innie if you drink that coffee you will not survive long enough for the caffeine to make it into your bloodstream,” your brother warns from across the room. 

Jeongin falters at that, but when you shake the cup enticingly in front of him, he throws caution to the wind and takes a sip.

“Yah! What did I say, Yang Jeongin?” Is the only warning Jeongin gets before he’s chased around the room by an angry Minho. The familiar chaos is almost enough to lift your mood and make you forget about the terrible interaction you had outside.

“You look annoyed, did something happen?” Chan asks, approaching you from where he had gone to turn off the music on his laptop. You curse how observant he is, you thought you had done a pretty good job of hiding how you felt.

“Nothing, just had a weird encounter with a defensive fan out there. It's like you guys are idols or something” you joke, nodding your head towards the window where people are watching curiously. You can still feel the sting from the girl’s nails digging into your wrist and when you lift it up to examine it more closely, see a little bit of blood beading at the deepest crescents.

“They’re not fans,” Chan says in disgust, before he does a double take. “I- you’re bleeding?”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, wiping at the wounds but only succeeding at smudging the blood so that it looks even worse. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Come here, we have a first aid kit somewhere. We don’t want it to get infected.” 

Chan takes your hand delicately, making sure to avoid the inflamed areas, and leads you over to the bench closest to where all their bags are piled up. You sneak a glance over to the girl that stopped you and can’t help but feel smug when you find her, pale and slack-jawed. Chan sits you down, only leaving your side to pull the blinds down on the window and dig around until he finds the first aid kit.

“Sorry, it might sting a bit,” Chan apologises as he pulls out the disinfectant wipes.

You peek at Chan and your breath catches in your throat at how concentrated he looks, brows slightly furrowed as he tries to gently dab at the scratches. Most of his hair is hidden under a baseball cap, but you can see a little duck tail forming at the base of his neck which draws attention to the trails of sweat that disappear under the collar of his shirt. You must make some kind of noise, because Chan looks up, eyes wide with concern.

“Sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“No, you're good,” you say, cheeks flushing.

“I’m almost done,” he says, searching around for a bandage. He’s just finished applying it, tongue sticking out in concentration, when you hear someone else approach.

“What's going on here?” Minho asks.

“Nothing!” you say at the same time that Chan says, “I was just helping Y/n put on a bandage.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Minho's eyes widen and he reaches out to take a look at your wrist, even though he won't be able to see anything under the bandage. You pull your sleeve down and stand up in a rush.

“It’s nothing, really oppa! I'm sorry, I have to go, my class is starting soon!” you call out, lying through your teeth as you run out of the room, clutching your assignment. “Thank you, Channie-oppa!”

You rush into the nearest bathroom, not even caring that there are people in the other stalls, and throw up an explosion of petals. By the time that you finally make it to class, just in time, your throat stings more than the wound on your wrist.

—

You start trying to avoid Minho and well, you never really stopped in your attempts to avoid Chan.

You leave early in the morning, only come back well after the sun has set, and do everything in your power to contain your cough when you're at home.

You know you're not solving the problem, only prolonging it, but every conversation, every lie, seems to accelerate the growth of the roses that have taken up residence in your lungs. You know that it's not helping, that keeping this secret is just strengthening the flowers that are slowly choking you. It's just that no matter how many conversations you've rehearsed in your head or text that you've drafted, something seems to stop you.

You're just so so scared that waking up with a mouthful of petals and thorns, bloody coughing fits that you can't prevent, and the raspy tone of your voice that has developed is preferrable. 

As much as you hate him sometimes, you've looked up to your brother for your whole life. You don't know what you would do without him that the thought of losing him terrifies you beyond belief.

You don't always get what you want, though. It's not long until Minho confronts you again.

It's not really a surprise, when you look in the mirror these days, you're shocked by your appearance. Your face is pale and drawn, you have deep bags from not being able to sleep at night, and you've lost weight since most solid food irritates your throat enough to trigger a coughing fit. Add that to the fact that you know your apartment's walls are paper thin which means it's impossible that your brother can't hear you coughing at all hours of the day.

“Y/n-ah. I know that you're not doing well right now. Don't even try to deny it,” Minho says. He closes his eyes for a moment before seemingly deciding something. “I- you don't have to tell me what it is. I would prefer it if you did, but just- what can I do to help?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to reassure him that you're fine, but regret it when you start choking instead. You lurch upright and head directly to the bathroom, Minho trailing behind you worriedly. 

“I-” Trying to talk just makes it worse. You're used to it now, the way that the thorns seem to claw at your throat on their way up, how even the brush of soft petals against the raw flesh hurts, the metallic taste that you can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times you wash your mouth. Still, it doesn't make it easier.

Minho watches in silence as you heave over the toilet. He puts a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles to try and soothe some of your pain. Your eyes water, partially from coughing and partly because you're mortified that your brother is finally witnessing this.

You throw up finally, mostly petals and blood, which is a relief. The stems have been the most painful by far, each thorn digging into the already abused flesh of your throat.

When you finally finish rinsing your mouth, he's holding out a tissue which you accept gratefully. Minho doesn't comment until you've finally caught your breath.

“Y/n-ah-”

“Yeah,” you say miserably, tearing at the leftover tissue in your hand. Your voice both sounds and feels like you've been swallowing gravel. “Hanahaki, who would have guessed that I'd be a romantic at heart?”

You laugh weakly. Minho doesn't.

“I knew it. All those times you locked yourself in the bathroom with the water running… That stupid bath bomb story you told me… I hear you up at all hours, coughing your lungs out… You’ve been hiding it this whole time, haven’t you?” he accuses you.

“I can explain-”

“Go on then,” Minho says impatiently.

“I- It's-” You bury your face in your hands, unable to get the words out. “It's stupid.”

“Y/n-ah, it's obviously not stupid. Whatever it is, it's bothering you enough that it's hurting you physically.”

“I like someone,” you say in a small voice. “Okay? That's it.”

“Why won't you tell them?” Minho demands. “Why won't you tell me who it is?”

“No, I can't. There’s no point, it wouldn't work out,” you insist, shaking your head.

“What are you talking about? No point? Y/n, can't you see it's killing you.” You've never heard Minho sound so desperate. He's angry, he's frustrated, but most of all, he's scared, you realise.

“Oppa-” you say cautiously, but you're interrupted by yet another coughing fit. You can't hide it from your brother when the tissue that you've used to cover your mouth is tinged red by the time you're done. You can feel there's still something lodged in your throat, it takes everything in you to ignore the urge to continue coughing to try and get it out.

“I can't lose you, Y/n,” he whispers. Your eyes widen when you realise his are filled with tears. You don't think you've ever seen Minho cry. “I can't let you do this to yourself, please.”

“I need more time-”

“You don’t have time!” Minho interrupts frantically. “Have you even seen a doctor about this?”

You look away guiltily at the question.

“No, but-”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho says exasperatedly. “We’re booking you an appointment right now.”

“Is it going to make a difference? I know what’s wrong-” As if to prove your point, you can’t stop yourself from coughing again. “It's not that bad yet, oppa,” you lie, the croakiness of your voice giving you away.

“Y/n-”

“I promise! I promise that I am trying my best. I- if it doesn't get better, I'll see a doctor in two weeks.” 

“Not good enough, Y/n-ah. If you can't tell me, at least talk to whoever you like,” he pleads. 

“Fine,” you say. “I- I'll talk to him in the next few days. And if the flowers don't go away, then I will see a doctor.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh of relief, pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. You try your best to sink into his embrace, but just can't ignore the guilt that seems to consume you.

—

Chan catches you outside your last lecture that night. You're not sure how exactly he found out your schedule, but you exit the lecture hall to find him leaning against the wall directly across from the doors.

It could just be that he knows someone else taking this course or that he has a class in the same room, but somehow you know that he's waiting for you. Not ready for this conversation, you try to keep your head down to pass by unnoticed, but you know that he's spotted you when he calls out your name.

“Hey.” Chan reaches out, tugging on your sleeve without actually touching you. You turn around, stomach sinking slightly. Yes, you had promised your brother that you'd confess to Chan, but you didn't think it would happen so soon. “You're heading home right?”

“Yeah,” you say warily. “What's up?”

“I'm going back too, can we walk together?”

“Sure,” you agree slowly, not able to think of a way to get out of this situation. 

The two of you walk in silence towards your bus stop. Chan's being uncharacteristically awkward and you're not sure what to expect.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says suddenly.

“Okay?”

Chan stays quiet for so long that you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I like you,” he blurts out, right as you open your mouth to speak.

“What?” Of everything he could have said, this is what you're expecting the least. There’s no way that you heard him correctly, you must need to get your ears checked.

“I like you,” Chan repeats. You blink up at him, stunned. “But if you don't feel the same way, it's- don't worry about it. I promise that I'll respect it. I'll back off and everything will stay the same. I just wanted to get it off my chest. And maybe, I don't know if I was just making things up, but I thought that you liked me too?”

“You can't,” is all that escapes your mouth.

“I… can't like you?” Chan asks, baffled.

“No, it's- you can't- we can't,” you stammer. “My brother-"

“What, you think I'm afraid of Minho-ya?” Chan asks cockily, raising an eyebrow in a way that you can't help but find attractive.

“I just- he always said-”

“Y/n-ah,” Chan says gently. “I like you and I don't care what your dumb brother thinks. He can complain all he wants, but as long as you're happy, I'm happy. And-”

“You actually like me?” you interrupt.

“Yes, is it really so hard to believe?”

“I just always thought, you only saw me as Minho-oppa's baby sister,” you say glumly, kicking at the ground.

“I did when you were younger for sure,” Chan laughs. “But since university, I feel like I've actually gotten to know the real you, to see how funny, talented, kind, and thoughtful you are. I like you for you, not because I'm friends with your brother.” 

“But there's so many other girls you could choose from that are much prettier or smarter than me,” you argue, still not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Y/n-ah, are you actually trying to convince me not to like you?” Chan pouts. “If you don't feel the same way, just say so, it's okay.”

“No! I-” you trail off, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

“You what?” Chan prompts you gently.

“I like you too.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that he's heard you from the smile that grows on his face.

“What was that?” Chan asks cheekily.

“I said I like you too!” you say louder this time, before hiding your face in your hands so that you don't have to look at Chan. 

Even though you're beyond embarrassed, you feel better than you have in a long time, giddy with the idea that Chan actually reciprocates your feelings.

But when you breathe in, instead of relief, there's still that familiar tightness in your chest. 

You have to talk to Minho, you realise. As much as you've been keeping it a secret from Chan, you know that a majority of your inner turmoil stems from hiding our feelings from the closest person in your life. You had hoped that talking to Chan would instantly cure your hanahaki, but clearly you were wrong.

—

For the first time in weeks, you purposely seek out Minho. Luckily, you don't have to look far, when you get home, Minho is stretched out on the couch watching anime.

“I told him,” you say. Minho immediately sits upright, turning his attention to you. “The guy I like. But it didn’t help, the flowers are still-”

“And he feels the same way?” Minho interrupts you.

“I- yes, he’s the one that confessed first.”

“Wow,” Minho whistles. “Who’s crazy enough to have feelings for you?”

You had already made up your mind that you had to tell your brother, but his reaction makes you even more confident in your decision. Maybe it's the way that Minho is treating this so lightly, but you’re no longer nervous to say it out loud.

“It's Chan-oppa,” you say, bracing yourself. 

“Chan?” Minho repeats, shell shocked.

“Channie-hyung? Like-” he takes out his phone and pulls up the photo he has of Chan in his contacts.

Chan has the craziest bedhead and his face is puffy from sleep in the photo. He's squinting up at the camera, a hand coming up to try and block his face. He looks adorable.

Minho watches your face carefully as you visibly melt a bit looking at the picture.

“You really do like him, huh,” he says in a quiet voice, no longer joking around. “This whole time?”

“Yeah.” You look down. “I'm sorry.”

“That's it? That's the person you've been so scared of telling me that you liked?"

“I- yes? You don't think it's weird?” you ask tentatively, looking back up at your brother. “The two of us being together? He's one of your best friends.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely weird.” Minho laughs. “I do not understand it at all. But Y/n, Channie-hyung is one of the few people in my life that I trust. Do I want him to be dating my baby sister? Of course not! I don't want you to be dating anyone. Do I think he’s out of his mind for being interested in you? Definitely.”

“Hey!” you interject. Minho carries on like he can’t hear you.

“Do I think he fully understands that if he hurts you in any way, directly or indirectly, on purpose or on accident, that I will hunt him down and make him regret the fact that he ever existed in the first place? Yes, I think he knows.”

“Oppa,” you say in horror. “You will not give your best friend the shovel talk.”

“I don’t have to.” Minho smiles brightly, a picture of innocence if you didn’t know him. “My reputation precedes me. Channie-hyung's one of my closest friends, he would never expect anything less from me.”

“Oppa-”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho softens his voice. “I also know that of all the people that I've ever met, Channie-hyung is one that is least likely to ever hurt you. I trust him, but I also want you to know that I trust your judgement.”

You look away, sniffing. You never could have imagined that Minho would accept your relationship so easily that it's making you feel emotional.

“Aigoo, Y/nnie,” Minho coos. He pulls you into a tight hug, ignoring the way that tears finally escape from you and stain his shirt. “You were really worried about this, weren't you?”

You nod into his shoulder, unable to provide a verbal response.

“I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about this. It's definitely going to take a bit of time to get used to it, but I'm happy for you, really. I know I can seem overbearing sometimes, but I just worry.”

“I didn't want you to be upset at Channie-oppa or me,” you murmur. “I didn't want to do anything to hurt your friendship. I didn't want to hurt our relationship.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says gently, but firmly. “I want you to know that there is nothing that could hurt our relationship. You're my baby sister, I'm always going to love you.”

After months of keeping all your feelings bottled up, of denying your feelings for Chan, of dreading Minho’s reaction, you’ve felt a constant dread, guilt filling your insides. Now, you’re just filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s as if an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It feels like you can breathe again.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Cooking with Yuutsum

SUMMARY: Your tsum wants to go find some of the other tsums, but you end up finding Kalim’s and Azul's tsums together in the cafeteria kitchen. What's the problem? They both really like your tsum, and while Kalim-tsum can be quite affectionate, Azul-tsum can be a little... jealous.

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto, Azul’s tsum; Kalim Al-Asim, Kalim’s tsum (+Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.040 words

COMMENTS: I got this idea while playing Twisted Tsumderland 3, more specifically the twistune with Idia’s, Vil’s and Malleus’s tsums. So yeah, maybe I'll do something like this with those three too.

(If I do I will update this post with the link.)

I hope you enjoy 😉

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to wander around the campus. Maybe it wanted to take a walk?

You take it in your arms and leave your dorm. You let it guide you and it ends up taking you to the cafeteria kitchen. But how did it know you would find other tsums there?

In the kitchen were Kalim, Jamil, Azul and Floyd, and with them Kalim’s and Azul's tsums.

The moment you walk in and see those two tsums, your tsum jumps from your arms to the floor making that happy tsum sound. Kalim-tsum does the same thing but instead of jumping to the floor it takes a big leap to land next to your tsum, but ends up throwing itself against it and the two roll together for a second. They get dizzy but quickly recover and Kalim-tsum starts to rub its cheek with your tsum's.

“Aww, how cute, they are such good friends already!” Kalim says with a big smile.

“Hm? What's up with this tsum?” Floyd asks about Azul's tsum. “It looks like it's shaking.”

And suddenly Azul-tsum throws itself at Kalim-tsum like a bullet, sending it flying across the kitchen into a pile of pots and pans, which causes a loud bang.

Everyone is startled! Kalim is worried about his tsum, Jamil goes into his usual panic mode, Azul himself is confused without knowing why his tsum did that and Floyd is laughing in amusement.

Meanwhile, Azul-tsum smiles with its eyes at your tsum, but your tsum gets angry and seems to start giving it a scolding. Which makes it shrink a little and become very sad.

You immediately went to Kalim-tsum and picked it up to see if it was okay. It looks at you and its eyes widen and shine. He snuggles up to you and tries to get close to your face to caress you as if nothing had happened before you picked it up.

“Oh, ha ha, it really likes you too. I'm glad.” Kalim says blushing a little.

After giving Azul-tsum a scolding, your tsum came to you to see if Kalim-tsum was okay too. But then you hear a strange, although cute, sound. You realize that the source of the sound is Azul-tsum and it seems to be... crying? Or throwing a little tantrum?

“HAHAHAHA It really is like Azul. HAHAHA”

“SHUT UP FLOYD!” Azul is blushing with embarrassment.

“Really?” Jamil whispers to himself with a mocking smile. “I wonder if it's because of the crying or the tantrum. Maybe both?”

Your tsum approaches Azul-tsum again, sighs and seems to give it a kiss on the cheek, or at least the equivalent of one since they don't have lips or a mouth. Azul-tsum stops squirming and your tsum rubs its cheek against Azul-tsum's. And suddenly Azul-tsum seems to become very needy towards your tsum, and practically sticks to it.

This makes Azul's blush even more intense.

Kalim-tsum jumps out of your arms and approaches your and Azul's tsums to press itself against Azul-tsum as if hugging it. Azul-tsum's expression looks sullen.

“I think it's saying it forgives Azul’s tsum.” Kalim says.

Azul’s and Kalim's Tsums were so close together that when your tsum jumped it was able to easily land on top of both of them, forming a pyramid of tsums.

“Ha ha ha! They’re doing the thing!” Floyd says.

And it seems that the two base tsums are more satisfied now. Both Kalim’s and Azul's tsum are smiling with their little eyes.

“I'm glad you seem to have sorted things out.” Jamil says to the tsums. “But you should still clean up the mess you made.” And points to the pots and pans scattered across the floor.

Azul ended up helping Jamil to get things back in order, after all, the main responsible for that was his tsum.

Your tsum wanted to help them cook. During the cooking, your and Kalim's tsums seemed to just want to have fun, while Azul's tsum, from time to time, seemed to want to impress your tsum.

And one of those times when it seemed a little too cocky, it ended up slipping off the table, but you managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. Azul-tsum looked at you and when you smiled at it its eyes lit up, but then it looked embarrassed and seemed to be trying to hide in your arms.

You put it down on the table again and your tsum approaches Azul-tsum to give it what looks like a kiss on the cheek. It smiles with his eyes while blushing a little. Azul himself is also blushing slightly in embarrassment.

While Azul's tsum seems to want to impress your tsum, Kalim's tsum seems to want to do anything and everything with your tsum. Basically the thing: the work is not for two, but it makes it for two. Or three because it also doesn't want Azul-tsum to feel left out.

When the time comes for them to part and go their separate ways, Azul’s Tsum struggles in Azul's arms at first, but soon calms down and just looks sad. While Kalim's Tsum appears to give your Tsum a kiss on the cheek and jump onto Kalim's shoulder while waving goodbye with its little arm.

“You'll have plenty of time to be with (Y/N)'s Tsum when you return to your world or dimension or wherever you come from.” Azul confides with his tsum. “In the meantime, we have work to do. And please don't embarrass me even more. What is going on with you?”

“Hey, I have an idea~” Floyd says with an amused smile. “Hey, Koebi-chan, why don't you and your tsum go to the Mostro Lounge later?”

Both Azul and his tsum knew what Floyd was doing, but neither was against the idea.

“You can also go to Scarabia in the meantime if you want.” Kalim invites you. “I want to take one last carpet ride with my tsum. I bet you and your tsum would enjoy it too.”

Jamil was worried for a moment, but then he remembered that it was you and your tsum they were talking about, so maybe he didn't need to worry that much.

More Twisted Tsumderland content:

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

Yuutsum 3 (coming soon)

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[adieutristana]

Hiiii, i have request for a fem r x jinx, so like r and jinx have known each other alll their lives, maybe r is like sevika's niece or smth close, then when jinx gets adopted by silco, they ontinue to grow close until they become lovers, now you can do whatever you want here, just req that somehow r gets seperated with jinx and joins ekko and the professor breaking into the lab, which led to r joining then in the alt uni, the same time as ekko or maybe earlier, then au!jinx(she's alr r's gf in that au) suddenly gets worried or jealous cause ekko and r suddenly without any reason becomes close and starts spending time together, you can end it however u want, just give us a happy ending!! That's it rllyyy, thank you for reading this req, and it's ok if you can't do it, no pressureee

of course!! thank you for the request <3

this one is pretty long, sorry ^^; i just wanted to include everything and do your request justice

summary; sevika’s niece, jinx’s childhood best friend becomes jinx’s girlfriend. they get separated in the alternate universe, and powder grows jealous.

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, idk if sevika has living relatives but we're making up a sibling for the story, mentions of death, arguing, mentions of drinking and smoking, jealous powder

men dni.

sevika has never been great with children. the day you were born, your small form writhing in her brother's arms as you cried, and cried, and cried, sevika didn't know what to do with herself. this was family. sevika was loyal to family. but she just... couldn't deal.

yet as you grew older, she grew used to it. whenever you went to auntie sev's, she pulled out whatever non-alcoholic drink she had for you, pouring it in a stained glass and sitting down opposite you at her table. she'd teach you to play card games- ones appropriate for children, of course. war, go fish, the like. nothing like the blackjack or poker that gave her a thrill under dim lights, but it was honestly... nice, to have this company. even if you were small and still struggling to speak for yourself.

she found herself growing comfortable with you. she had always loved you, had always cared for you. you were her niece. but the fact that you were still learning to navigate the world, learning how to be a person, scared sevika- especially considering the state of the undercity. how was a child supposed to thrive in such a troubled city? how were sevika and her brother supposed to protect you from the harm that inevitably comes everyone's way?

and then, you found a friend. a little girl, no more than a few months older than you, with turquoise hair and warm, sky-blue eyes. powder was her name. a playful, friendly girl who would play tag with you in the alleyways of the lanes. she showed you all of her contraptions, little bombs with scribbled drawings of various animals for faces. handmade. your young mind found this incredible. how could one girl have this much talent?

each day, after your lessons, you'd go to a specific place close to a boarded up, abandoned home in the outskirts of zaun. it became yours and your friend's designated spot. a spot where powder would train, punching and kicking at the air with a wide grin, you sitting and observing. a spot where she’d sit down and whistle her favorite songs painfully out of tune. a spot where you shared secrets, talked about her adventures with her siblings, and you shared your frustrations about stupid homework. you'd brag about how cool your auntie sevika was.

"she's just so strong! and she can fight off anyone. she plays games with me, and she helps me with my reading work. even if it's hard."

powder's eyes would widen, and she'd nod enthusiastically.

"really? she sounds awesome! maybe i'll get to fight like her one day..."

"why can't you?"

and then powder would grumble, her eyes flickering down as she folded her hands in her lap.

"my sister doesn't think i'm ready. she says i'm not experienced enough."

she makes air quotes when she says 'experienced enough,' huffing and rolling her eyes. you'd reach out to squeeze her shoulder, trying to give any kind of comfort. you weren't the best at offering consolation, but you could at least do this for her.

when powder came to that same spot a mere few weeks later, she was bursting at the seams with excitement. she couldn't stay still, and as soon as the girl saw you, she bolted in your direction. throwing her arms around you and squealing. you were confused- but powder was clearly happy, possibly the happiest you'd ever seen her. so you wrapped your arms around her in return. she pulled her face back, blue eyes sparkling.

"vi finally said i'm ready. i'm going on a job, tomorrow! topside! it's gonna be a good one."

powder was positively beaming, and you could only smile. you tried to find the words for a moment, although you were ecstatic for her.

"really? that's awesome!"

"mhm! she said she's gonna take me with the others, and i can help!"

powder heard violet's voice calling for her from the end of the alley, seemingly having searched for her. she looked back at you.

"i'll see you soon, okay?"

then, radio silence.

you visited your usual spot a few times after that, your heart wrenching in your chest upon seeing the spot powder usually occupied empty. you had heard rumors swirling around of powder being caught after her job, her sister growing angry. yet, you didn't want to believe it. powder was your best friend, she was amazing! there was nothing the girl couldn't do.

but it was true. your best friend, powder, didn't pull it off. an arrest. an explosion. what caused it? what happened to powder?

it was driving your mind wild, pulling you in different directions and eating at your insides. you asked around, other children of zaun, but each one ignored you, shook their head, shrugged, muttered a quiet 'i don't know.' it was killing you.

that was, until the next time you visited your aunt. you sat down at her dining table, cheap leather peeling off of the seat. uneven legs, heightening your fear of toppling over any time you shifted. sevika brewed coffee instead of lighting her usual cigar, her back turned to you as she slowly moved through the kitchen.

"hey, aunt sev?"

you asked, voice unsure. shaking.

"huh?"

she responded, her back still turned to you.

"you know my friend, powder. you've met her, haven't you?" you saw sevika pause, leaning over to brace her hands on the edge of the counter. "she's kinda... missing. do you know what happened?"

"i do."

she responded, tone blunt with a sharp edge. you winced at this, you knew just how scary your aunt could be if provoked. but you cared too much for powder, this was too important-

"she's with silco and i. he took her in. she's a problem."

"a problem?"

your heart sunk in your chest. god, how could your best friend be a problem?

"yes. she's distracting silco, but he insists that she'll be an asset."

"please, sev, tell me m-"

the woman turned her back and slammed an empty mug onto the table.

"i'm not talking about this anymore."

✧.*

the day after your seventeenth birthday was when you found powder- ‘jinx,’ they now called her. a dark alleyway in the outermost of zaun, not far off from your spot just a few years prior. you’d begun taking morning walks to clear your head of all the bullshit that came with being a young girl in the middle of a troubled city- one with a close relative who worked for silco of all people. to get the swirling anxiety, political unrest, friends disappearing left and right, all of it- out of your damn mind.

you’d experimented with walking routes, going through the lanes, through some of the highest roads in zaun, but none were quite as… peaceful as the outskirts. much more nature, less people, more tranquil than any other area. your head hung low, hands in your pocket, gaze on the ground. whistling.

you would recognize that sound anywhere. the same song powder used to always whistle, you heard it again. the tone was a bit deeper, a bit more raspy, but god, it had to be her. your head shot up, eyes darting around for the source of the song. busted windows, trash cans… blue braids.

your feet moved quicker than your mind could. you ran to the girl, breathless, throwing your arms around her.

and then she pushed you off of her, your back hitting the ground.

“powder- powder, what the fuck?! you don’t remember me?”

she stood over you, breath heaving, blue eyes boring directly through you. searching for any sign of danger or betrayal, studying your features…

“oh. oh.”

“powder, please-”

the girl yanked you up by your shoulders and got onto her knees, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. long nails dug into the fabric of your top.

“it’s jinx now.”

oh. oh god. you’d heard that name before. the name of a master criminal in the making, under the watchful eye of silco. his prodégé, his daughter. she had been powder, this entire time? under your nose for years, and you had no idea?

you wrapped your arms back around her, tentative, so scared to break her. the way she flinched told you all you needed to know.

“po-jinx, it’s okay… you’re okay…”

she only held you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"a lot has changed."

"i know. but it's okay." you pause. "are you busy?"

jinx has her hands resting on your shoulders, pulling back the same way that she did the day before her job.

"no... no, not right now. why?"

the corner of your lips tug into a gentle smile.

"we have some catching up to do."

✧.*

the first thing jinx did was drag you around her newfound hideout. slim floors of metal with a seemingly endless drop below them, and a lack of railings. anxiety peaked as you walked through her home, but it was... charming. black lights paired with bright, colorful graffiti enhancing each surface. her face lit up as she showed you each of her handmade weapons.

you remembered the young powder with a single braid and defected color bombs, but these..? these were fully functioning explosives and assault weapons. god, where did she learn to do this?

"hey, whatcha thinking about?"

you're pulled out of your thoughts by one of jinx's fingers poking at your forehead. her blue eyes fixed on you...

"nothing. just... this is different."

jinx swings a leg over her seat at her workbench, picking up... a blowtorch?

"well, yeah. i told you things changed."

she quips, so nonchalant. how could she be so calm about her new lifestyle? it was such a drastic change, yet you couldn't help but... admire it. the environment surrounding you was a direct reflection of the person your friend had become. pilties feared her, zaunites revered her. to be able to make such a name for herself and have the unwavering sense of justice jinx had at such a young age was incredible to you.

god, jinx. she had really been staring you in the face for all of these years.

"tell me more.”

you said, slowly settling down beside her, bracing your elbows on the cold metal.

“oh, where to start?” she grinned. “well, right now i’m doing a lot in the way of enforcers and firelights. inventing, and all that. blowing stuff up.”

she giggled, not looking at you for a second. her thin hands held one of the very blue crystals a young powder held as if a precious amulet.

“and what about silco?”

“silco? he’s great! he’s always believed in me, said i’m smart and i can do whatever i put my mind to. he thinks i’m perfect.”

she hums, continuing to tinker away. your heart sinks the slightest bit. although silco was definitely a symbol of the undercity, he was feared. it just didn’t sit right with you. for him to have somebody like jinx in his grasp was frightening, but if she turned out relatively okay in the end, it was fine… right?

“oh, and sevika’s an ass.”

“my aunt?”

jinx turns to you suddenly, lifting her goggles off her face.

“since when is sevika your aunt?”

“…since i was born?”

you reply, raising an eyebrow… the same way sevika does with jinx. she folds over in a fit of laughter, her forehead on the workbench-

“oh, oh gods! that’s too good. how did i not know?”

✧.*

october 10.

jinx’s birthday.

jinx’s eighteenth birthday.

being slightly younger than her, you didn’t know exactly what was appropriate for an eighteenth birthday celebration. you were never good at birthdays to begin with. but you had to think, think. this is for jinx.

you’d grown accustomed to her new lifestyle, the mischief that followed her everywhere she went. whether she always found trouble or trouble always found her, you were unsure, but one thing was for certain: she had grown into one of the most badass women you’ve ever met. becoming close with her again, stepping into her shoes and experiencing a taste of jinx’s world, it was almost as if nothing had changed. in terms of your friendship, at least. she would still talk about her sister (although their relationship was less than ideal now), show you her contraptions, and whistle her favorite songs.

except for when you noticed your affections for jinx becoming something more than what was appropriate for friends.

curse you, curse you for falling for your childhood best friend. that was what you kept telling yourself. how could you fall for someone you had considered your best friend for so long? the thought of losing jinx again over something as trivial as a crush made your heart ache.

so you repressed it.

you repressed the way that your heart skipped a beat when she inched closer to you on her workbench.

you repressed the way her smile brought a swarm of butterflies to your stomach.

you repressed the way you wished to call her late at night just to hear her voice.

you repressed the way those blue eyes could make you give in to anything.

but that’s not important. no. what’s important is decorating jinx’s hideout while she’s out on a job for her birthday and throwing together a cake. pink and blue banners, big balloons with the number ‘18,’ crude paper-mache iterations of her monkey bombs, and making a gift.

you were hunched over your desk for hours trying to make her a charm bracelet, representative of your history. scrap metal from crushed cans, pliers, discarded chains, and acrylic paint could take you further than you expected. a mouse, for mouser. a blue ball, for her crystals. a can of spray paint. a bomb. a monkey. all little charms representative of what made jinx jinx.

did you burn yourself? yes. did you have to bandage yourself from getting cut by thin metal? also yes. but it was for her.

and a card. you decided in the days leading up to jinx’s birthday that you had to tell her somehow how you felt. it was eating up at you from the inside out.

when jinx arrived to her hideout, kicking the door open, it took a moment for her to notice that anything was different. somehow the streamers, candles, and smell of cake didn’t give it away, but she quickly strode over to you with the same jump in her step as always.

“heya t-”

and she finally noticed. glancing around at the handmade decorations on her workbench and the balloons, the pink and blue icing on her cake…

“oh. oh wow.”

she chuckled, in mild disbelief.

“wow, all of this for little ol’ me?”

you nodded, body tense with anticipation and anxiety. you knew the second she opened that card, everything would change. she sighed in that playful way she always did, and put her hands on her hips.

“okay. where to start?”

she glanced over the workbench. the cake, card, and small wrapped gift.

“well, it’s only right to start with the card.”

she sat down, and unceremoniously began tearing the envelope open at the top with her fingernails. not even using the flap in the back. you should’ve expected as much. she finally gets through to the card and looks at the front- a drawing of the two of you sat side by side.

“oh, this is cute!”

she beamed, and eagerly flipped the card open, and that’s when you saw blue eyes beginning to scan over the words inside.

“powder, rather jinx, i’m sorry that this is so sudden. eighteen is a big feat. you’re grown! and i’m proud of everything you’ve done. all the progress you’ve made for zaun, and all of the things you’ve come over. you’re a strong, smart, wonderful girl. but i need you to know that i’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and i can’t keep ignoring them. meeting you again and getting to know the person you’ve become has been one of the best experiences of my life. i wish i could spend those days alongside you as your girlfriend.

if you want to throw this card away and forget about it, i won’t be mad. just think about what i said.

-your best friend.”

her eyes scanned over the paper. again, and again, and again. did she really have to read it so many times? her brows furrowed, then raised, then furrowed again, before she glanced up at you.

“you… mean this?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“of course i mean it, jinx.”

you then felt thin, yet strong arms thrown around you and a head buried into your chest.

“i thought i was crazy…”

she murmurs, voice muffled by the thick fabric of your top. her tone is softer than usual, a side of her you’ve grown to realize is reserved for you only.

“crazy how?”

“crazy because i feel the same way.”

did the world stop?

was time hanging over your head?

“oh, god- jinx, you’re serious?”

you laughed, returning her embrace with tears pricking at your eyes. she squeezed you even tighter to her, beginning to pepper little kisses all over your face- no doubt leaving stains in their wake.

“ah! you still have a gift to open, jinx!”

you were mockingly protesting. in truth, you felt like you were floating.

“don’t care!”

✧.*

shortly after jinx’s own, your nineteenth birthday came and passed with jinx clinging to your arm. a day of being dragged through zaun tagging walls together, your girlfriend presenting you with a barely-edible cake, and rushed kisses on her couch.

which sevika walked in on.

regardless, you woke up to the sound of jinx’s deep breathing, close to your ear. still sleeping, her ear right up against the left side of your chest. you’d noticed she liked listening to your heartbeat, especially during late nights together. the first and only time you asked about it, she just said, ‘it’s relaxing.’ if anything could relax jinx, you’d do it.

you couldn’t move, not yet. you could only look down at the sleeping girl on top of you, snoring like an old man. if it were anybody else, you’d have stopped sharing a bed a long time ago. but jinx was kind of… endearing.

“mm… what time is it, toots?”

you heard her grumble.

“uh…” you moved your wrist from under her to glance at your wristwatch. “11:20.”

“ugh… it’s too early.”

“too early?”

“yes! i need to sleep more… five more minutes.”

one of jinx’s classic lies. but you let her, regardless, because who were you to deny a little longer of the girl you loved clinging to you? your free hand came to her lower back, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over soft skin.

“okay. then while you’re here, i need to tell you something.”

“mm… go ‘head.”

there was no easy way to put this, but you had to spit it out.

"i'm going to topside later. going to jayce's lab with ekko and the professor. they said there was something... important i needed to see. something about hextech."

with this, jinx's eyes fluttered open, looking up at you. thick brows furrowed.

"why?"

"something about hextech."

you repeated yourself. she grumbled.

"why d'you have to be the one to do it?"

your eyes widened for a moment. damn. you weren't sure how to answer this question, exactly. why did it have to be you? clearly, jinx wasn't asked about it if this is the first time she's hearing about it. but you knew it was important enough if you, a relatively ordinary citizen of zaun were asked to accompany heimerdinger and his newest student.

"i... i don't know. but it's important enough. i'll be a few hours tops, okay? a few hours, then i'll come back and be right here when you're ready to sleep. we can be just like-"

you pointed to her head still laying directly over your heart,

"this, again tonight."

jinx grumbled, slowly pulling herself away from your chest, bringing herself to loom over you. unkempt blue braids on either side of your face, rosy eyes locked on yours.

"fine. but you better be back when you say you'll be."

you reached up to place your hands on pale cheeks, tracing your thumbs underneath her eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"i'll be back before you know it, baby. it'll be like i never even left."

✧.*

the lab. the lab.

that's the last place you can remember being before waking up with a gasp. you felt as if you got a punch directly to the stomach, body reeling with the aftershocks of... something. all you could do was heave, pant, use your hands to brace yourself against a... bedside table? desperately trying to find some kind of support.

you slowly gain your composure. your breath coming to you in short gasps, as your eyes finally manage to scan your surroundings. a bedside table, a full-sized bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf with various travel guides and science textbooks scattered about. a corkboard on the wall, with photos of... you? and somebody else.

you stumble over the corkboard, slowly lifting your gaze. photo strips from photo booths hang on the board, as well as post-it notes with scribbled drawings. the pictures are of you, and a girl. a girl who, upon closer inspection, looks almost exactly like jinx. but not quite. her eyes didn't have those bags you'd grown accustomed to, and her face seemed fuller. she had a wide grin or silly expression plastered onto her face in almost every picture. the jinx you knew hated her picture being taken.

this girl's hair also was chopped to her shoulders. jinx kept her hair so long she had learned how to not trip over it. a gentle breeze sweeps the room, and the air is... more clear. not as overwhelming as the usual pollution of zaun. you think you can manage a deep breath in without feeling any side effects.

"there you are, silly!"

you hear from behind you. you snap your head over your shoulder with a gasp, and it's the girl from the pictures. oh, god.

she sets down a box on the bed, a few bolts spilling out from the cushion of the mattress.

"heh, whoops."

she chuckles, placing both hands on her hips. she really does look exactly like jinx. blue hair strung up into messy space buns and a little pink streak. that's new. you glance around at the room once again, noticing the corkboard. a drawing of you and the girl on a yellow post-it, with "POWDER" scribbled beneath it.

powder?

"what... what is this?"

you manage to breathe out. the girl- powder, strides over to you and wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind.

"only materials for my next big project! i told you about this. remember?"

she giggles, voice playing directly next to your ear. a chaste kiss to your cheek and a bubbly girl holding you. you raise an eyebrow, looking back at her. your shoulders tense, eyes blown wide. how could this have happened? didn't powder adopt the identity of jinx after that job?

"this is what happens when you pull a double two days in a row. i know you need the extra time, babe, but you're exhausted."

powder pinches your cheek between her forefinger and thumb. that same playful smile unwavering.

"come on, we've still got a lot to do today. we're talking some stuff over with benzo, remember?"

benzo? the benzo whose corpse you saw?

"i... okay. just give me a minute to freshen up."

you make your way down the hall to a bathroom. this place was set up like a goddamned labyrinth, but you managed. you look at yourself in the mirror.. your clothes seemed nicer. more tailor-fit. your skin was more clear, almost no blemishes or scars. your hair was a bit longer, you still had split ends- guess you could never be bothered to trim those in any world. but... this was different. you huff, deciding to cut your losses and just go to this meeting you apparently had planned.

as soon as you arrive to the last drop, it's like being flashbanged. your eyes widen at how much more bright the place seems. new booths and tables, it seems as if it's been recently renovated for the sake of modernity. and then you noticed vander.

you knew how much vander's loss affected jinx. she talked fondly of him often, but you could tell the fact that he was no longer here was killing jinx, no matter how much time had passed since that day. yet, here he was in the flesh, chatting away with a customer behind the bar as if nothing had happened. had anything happened?

"oh, oh my god. you're here. do you know what happened?"

your body jutted forward and you snapped your head around, your first instinct being to shove whoever was behind you. but you didn't thankfully. ekko.

"you're here too? shit, i don't know, i just- i woke up, and i was here, and everything's different, and everyone is acting different."

you muttered, beginning to pace around. the boy in front of you seemed stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"you don't know anything?"

"i'm just as confused as you are, ekko."

"sorry! ran a little late. you know how the streets get this time of day."

you heard from behind you, powder carrying a brown messenger bag.

"...jinx?"

powder just quirked an eyebrow, one of her signature confused expressions. she shakes her head, brushing off the fact and makes her way toward the bar. benzo's sat on one of the stools, waiting.

you shoot a glance in ekko's direction, mouthing 'sorry.'

✧.*

the second the meeting is over, you grab ekko by the arm and pull him into an alleyway behind the last drop. you sigh, letting his arm go, and he's visibly peeved.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm sorry, ekko, i just... this is all so weird. apparently powder never became jinx, and benzo is alive, and so are vander and silco and things just seem so... nice. i keep telling myself it isn't real, but i'm not waking up from whatever the fuck this is."

ekko looks down, his hand pressing into the spot below his eyebrows. he shakes his head.

"i talked to heimerdinger earlier. he said this is some kind of parallel universe. no hextech, so there's not a good chance of us getting back."

you swore you could've felt your stomach drop. oh no.

"how is there no hextech? are you serious?"

"i wouldn't lie about this."

"fuck. fuck."

you're tangling your hands in your hair, once again finding yourself pacing back and forth. the alleyway is clear aside from a few palettes and trash cans, yourself and ekko being the only occupying presence.

"we're trying to figure something out, together. but it's going to take a while."

your feet still, and you take a deep breath in. your lips press into a thin line. you don't exactly have it in you to be patient right now, but did you have another option?

"shit. okay. it's not like i've got any better ideas."

ekko sighs, his shoulders dropping. you glance over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an effort to reassure him.

"i'll try and think of something, too. just keep me updated, okay?"

ekko gives you a small grin and nods.

"i will. it'll be alright- let's hope, at least."

your eyes wander over to the last drop's back door, and it's cracked open, with powder looking out.

shit. how long has she been there?

you walked to your apartment side-by-side with powder, but she seemed so... tense. she didn't look at you much during the walk back, which made you a bit fearful. she was so chipper just an hour or two ago, what happened?

you swung open the door after taking a few tries to find the correct key, something powder also noticed. thankfully, she didn't mention it, or you'd have a difficult time explaining.

you stepped in, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the arm of a leather couch. one that wasn't peeling.

"so, when did you and ekko get so close again?"

she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. this may not be jinx, but she has the same facial expressions. she thinks you're hiding something.

"huh? we've always been friends."

"you guys fell out two weeks ago and you swore you'd never talk to him again."

oh shit.

"you don't remember? i mean... i guess it makes sense, i thought it was just a misunderstanding. you're usually the one to talk things out."

huh? you and ekko were never particularly close, but you'd never had a falling out. shit, everything really was different here.

"yeah... uh, yeah. we made up."

you say, hoping to whatever was out there that she wouldn't catch onto the fact you didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about.

"huh."

she huffs, clearly unconvinced.

"what, powder? come on, you've gotta talk to me."

"ugh- that doesn't explain why you were touching him like that!"

she snaps, her voice raising, yet not quite yelling. the look in her eyes, she looks as if she's genuinely been betrayed.

"i.. what? i was touching his shoulder, powder."

"yeah, and yesterday you were resting against it. what next, you'll be kissing his neck?"

were you really? god dammit, you had no way of knowing what this other version of you was doing before-

"no! powder, no. i... i'm sorry. but you have to believe me, we're friends. we were discussing something important to us."

she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot against the ground.

"come on. i respect your privacy, i trust you to not cheat, but you've got to ease up on him. rather, he has to ease up on you."

"powder, nothing's happening."

she sighs, her head hanging down in defeat.

"you promise?"

"i promise you."

powder slowly steps closer to you, shaky hands slowly coming to cup both of your cheeks.

"i just don't want anything to happen between us, okay? things are good."

"they are. but nothing will happen."

as... unfamiliar as this is, this version of powder, this supposed life of yours, you couldn't deny that it was welcoming. in some ways, it was a lot better than the world you came from. the overrun streets of zaun, the political unrest of piltover, thousands addicted to shimmer and more friends dead than alive. you could get used to this, but you wouldn't.

you suppose it wouldn't be so bad to indulge yourself until ekko figured something out, though.

"hey. you still like wearing braids in your hair, don't you?"

powder hums, pursing her lips.

"uh... i haven't worn one since i was a kid, but sure."

you sigh, and gently take both of her hands in yours.

"come on. i'll do some twin braids on you, braid pink ribbon into your hair. does that sound alright?"

powder seems to perk up at this, blue eyes going wide.

"ribbons?"

"yeah. you've got that pink streak going on."

"oh... okay. sure. knock yourself out."

she squeezes your hands, smiling.

[spatialwave]

Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons

➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.

When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.

Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)

Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.

However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.

Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited. 

Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.

Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.

He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make—doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.

Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.

He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.

You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.

He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.

Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.

Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world. 

As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.

But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.

[ziminy]

Nightshift rewritten pt1

Having Gojo and Geto as roommates was a problem

Tags: smut, mdni, college au, roommates (obviously), f!reader, rich kid Gojo, the reader is a bit shy and introverted, jealousy, Gojo and Geto are playboys, mästurbation, getting caught, humping, kinda mean Geto (cuz I like him like that *bite lip*), a little bit of misunderstanding but they fuck at the end because of it so we're good, fïngering, thighs fuckïng, the reader have boobs, praises, teasïng, Gojo having a (not so) little crush on you,

Author's note: Personally, I believe that those two can't pull even if their lifes depends on it, 100% zero play. But I like to be delusional so I'mma just close my eyes.

Pt2 Pt3 masterlist

roommates masterlist

You knew that living in a dorm had more disadvantage than benefits, but you didn't think that you'll fight with your roommate the first day you moved in. You lived in a shitty place filled with shitty people, so you couldn't understand why she was trying to cause problems instead of trying to maintain the peace.

You were both adults, you should have think rationally and at least ignore each other. But no, she decided to bring guys over, fucking them in there, sometimes even when you were in the room asleep. One time waking up to her getting fucked in her bed since she decided to be so loud for the whole floor to hear.

She would throw her trash into your side of the room just to not clean, and start arguments left and right because it was fun for her.

What made you snap was when she started stealing your stuff. It started with small stuff like a few pencils here and there, or supplies that you payed money for it. Until she started stealing your clothes and wearing them, showing them off like you didn't know who the right owner was.

You had enough of her, so, you packed your stuff one time when she wasn't there and moved them into the back of your car, spending the next few days at a friend. One more day in that dorm and you'll sure commit murder.

You were embarrassed of your situation, can you believe your really ended up like this? Not having a place to call home and wandering around looking for a place to stay, even your friends were helping you and it made you feel more guilty.

Couldn't you had seen this problem before it happened? You were so excited at first, still remembering the way your heart was beating while sitting in front of the dorm, admiring the building and day dreaming about how wonderful your life would be. And now your hitting your head against every single wall you see, cursing yourself out for being such a fool.

"I know a guy that can help." one of your friends said, trying to reassure you. "We'll figure it out, don't worry." if you weren't surrounded by good people you would have quit and go home. However, you didn't expect to meet that guy the same day. He appeared a few minutes later like he knew he was needed. "Y/N, this is Satoru, the guy I told you about."

"Hi." you kept your words very minimal, trying to study his appearance and figure out what kind of person he was before you decided to accept his help or not. But can you blame yourself when your trust have been broken?

He was tall and well build, broad shoulders and a cocky smile on his face. His white hair was matching his shirt, and it was making him shine under the sun light, attracting all the attention to him. Round glasses on his face, a big designer logo could be seen on the sides of it. He didn't said a word, tilting his head to the right and looking down at you.

You looked the total opposite of him. While he looked like he was bathing in the blood of virgins maidens to remain forever young, you looked tired, like you haven't been able to sleep in the past few days at all. You hair all over the place, not wanting to cooperate with you today and the more he looked at you the more defects he can find. However, you catch his attention.

Even if you looked like a lost puppy left out in the rain, you looked so cute. It only made him feel like he could fix you, shower you with affection and get you at your best. Or, he could give you a few issues that you'd never be able to recover from. Or even worse, you end up fixing him, make him realize how much of an idiot he is and make him to finally settled down.

"Have you found anything yet?" your friend asked him, seeing how both of you looked at each other without saying a single sentence.

"Find what?" he couldn't take his eyes off you, mouth half open as he's still thinking about the possibilities.

"A place for Y/N?" if he's being honest, he totally forgot.

"You can stay at my place." he said, still being affected by your gaze. All that he can remember is the color of your eyes and your lips.

"I can?" you asked, not sure that you heard him right. Will your problems end up this quickly or was he fucking with you?

"Yeah." he said without even thinking.

"Let me see the place first and I'll give you an answer after." now he was finally coming back to his senses.

What have he done? Like, seriously, what did he just say? He can't believe himself, letting himself being swiped off his feet by some girl he just met for the first time.

And now he couldn't help but feel anxious, trying to remember in what state did he left the house, or what if you don't like it.

But he took you there, showing you his not so humble abode and presenting you every single room in the house. Talking about the lore and stuff that happened in there. A few parties here and there, how he ended up buying a new couch or how he got his TV broken. You know, just normal stuff.

"Then.. When can I move in?" you asked when he walked you out, expecting you to say that you'll think about it, or how you're thinking of another place. Anything but the words you just said.

"Whenever you want." he said, still not believing how smooth everything was going.

"I already have all my stuff ready, I can bring them here any time you're free." even better.

"How about now?" he said, wanting to feel your presence for a little longer.

"Sure." and by the end of the day you're already moved in, now unpacking everything in your room.

You were finally at peace. You had a place to stay, your own room and the guy you're living with is a busy person, so he won't even be there most of the time.

That night you finally managed to get a good night sleep. Placing your head on the pillow and shifting into the dream world instantly, dreaming about fluffy clouds and jumping from one to another, even biting some of them to see how they taste.

Everything was so peaceful, enjoying your time, walking around with cute stuffed animals by your side and laughing at your hearts desire.

It didn't lasted long because you heard a loud thunder, making you turn around to see someone far away, looking in your direction, waiting for your next move.

"Don't go, don't go." the squeaky animals said, trying to stop you from going in that person's direction. But you didn't listen, you kept walking forward, getting closer and closer to the mysterious figure.

You didn't even payed attention to the stranger, being more curious of why that place was different from the rest, why it's was so off settling. You looked back for a moment, still seeing the cute stuffed animals calling you back, but once again, you ignored them and turned your head away, continuing waking forward, now finally trying to see who that mysterious figure was. But to your surprise, the whole place became dark. The white clouds now black, the comfortable atmosphere now being suffocating, and the individual walking forward, getting closer to you.

You took a step back, trying to breath, but the closer he got, the more intoxicating the air became. "You're trapped now." a masculine voice could be heard from the person in front of you, leaning down to whisper those words in a mean manner right in your ear.

You gasped for air, finally waking up from whatever that dream was supposed to mean.

You were sweating, clothes sticking to your body and your head was hurting. The whole room was spinning and you couldn't help but think about what just happened.

It must be from the stress, all that negative energy building up, making you feel vulnerable. And now that you finally had time to rest, all that anxiety finally caught up with you. Yes, that must be.

You didn't even question the guy outside your room, waiting for you to get out and make a move.

"What's with all those boxes?" a masculine voice could be heard from outside your room, but it didn't belonged to the white haired man. After all, how could you forget his voice? It was haunting you even hours after you met him.

"About that." now, you could recognize that voice, there was no way it didn't belonged to Gojo.

"You what?" the other person said out loud, making you open your eyes. It was dark outside, who was making so much noises late at night?

You turned around in bed, looking for your phone and turning it on. It was 3 in the morning, tomorrow was a work day and no matter how much you think about it, there shouldn't be a commotion happening. Especially at this time.

Should you go and see what's going on? But it didn't sounded like you needed to get involved. In fact, your presence wasn't even required from the way the other guy was insulting Gojo. It was none of your business, whatever he did, he did it. You're not a witness since you only got here today, you don't know anything about that guy besides his name and the fact that he owns this place.

You'll see what happened tomorrow, it can't be that bad. And even if it was, it was none of your business.

So, the next day you got out your room. For once you managed to wake up early on your own accord, and you decided to see what happened last night.

You doubted that he would be there, especially this early. But the white haired man was in the kitchen, sipping something from his cup with another guy sitting a few chairs away from him.

"M-" you open your mouth, but you couldn't say a word when both of them turned to look at you. You cleared your throat, embarrassed at the way your voice cracked. "Good morning." you bite your lip, lowering your gaze and cursing yourself internally for making the moment awkward.

"Did you sleep well?" Gojo was all a smile, looking at your bed hair, happy to see you in such way.

The one next to him didn't looked happy tho, and if the way he cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention wasn't enough, then he doesn't know what more he needed to do.

"Ah, right. I forgot about you." Gojo laughed, but he was welcomed with his friend looking even angrier than before. "So, like, I don't know if I told you before but I share this place with my friend."

"You didn't mention this before." you said, making the dark haired man to raise an eyebrow, looking at you for a moment and then looking back at the one sitting at the table.

"Well, I said it now." the white haired man tried to excuse his behavior.

"Did he scammed you too?" the long haired man asked, shaking his head in disappointment. "How much did he ask for rent?"

"Not a lot." he told you to pay less than 50 bucks, per year. You were about to run from there when he said that, but then he explained to you how he doesn't need any money and how he's doing this to help you. Which was even more suspicious. "He told me that I can stay here for free." you said, remembering about how he didn't even wanted to accept money at first until you said you'll leave.

"Oh, really?" the dark haired man looked at his friend, still as unhappy as before.

"You're not even paying rent so why are you complaining?" Gojo rolled his eyes, annoyed at how Geto was acting.

"Are you asking me for money?" the way the man said that sounding threatening, like he ready to fight for real.

"Are you going to pay me?" they both stared at each other, questioning each other like they didn't already knew the answer. "Then why do you keep arguing about this?"

"It would have been nice to know before hand that someone is moving in."

"I'm sorry about it." you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. "He showed me the place yesterday, I already had everything packed and he said that I can just move in." the dark haired man just sighed.

"Well, whatever. It's already done." you knew it was crazy too, but you were desperate. But at least now you got to meet your other roommate.

This sounded so bizarre, it was too convenient for it to be a coincidence. Meeting some gorgeous guy, moving in with him the same day and then meeting another guy who's just as good looking as the other. And besides that, Gojo was filthy rich too, which makes this situation even more unreal.

Was this one of those situations of how I met your mother? Or was this some sort of prank and you were going to appear on tv for the whole world to see how stupid you are?

You'd believe it if at the end of this someone appears out of nowhere talking about how this was a big elaborate scheme to take revenge on you. Because there was no way this just happened out of nowhere.

Well, anyway. Now that you know who your roommates are, it was better to stay out their way. Mostly to not embarrass yourself in front of them. One wrong move and you'll throw yourself out the window, it was better to not test the waters at all to save some face and dignity.

And like this, a week passed. The house was as quiet as ever, your presence wasn't even felt and it's like both of them forgot you even existed if it wasn't for the shoes at the door.

It was Friday night, 11 something, almost midnight when you sneaked out your room, making your way to the kitchen. You were hungry, and if you didn't eat anything in that moment you feel like you'll pass out.

All the lights inside the house were turned off, it didn't feel like you were living with anyone. But you understood their schedule at this point. They were always out, only coming back home to sleep for a few hours and then disappear as soon as they wake up.

So, you didn't expect someone to walk in 10 minutes after you sat down at the long dining table. You were enjoying some leftovers and what else you found in the fridge, watching some funny video on your phone and giggling at it.

You almost choked when you saw Suguru walking in.

"It's you." he said, not even looking surprised to see you. But you on the other hand was dying, trying to swallow the food so you could run from there. "I haven't seen you these days." he walked to the fridge, opening it, then turned around to look at the table you were sitting at. "That was mine." you looked terrified, how comes you didn't thought about this before? "It's alright, don't worry. Satoru takes my food all the time." he said and walked towards you, sitting down next to you and taking something from the table to eat.

His friend whined the whole week about not being able to see you. He haves no idea what classes you were taking or at what hours, and now Satoru couldn't even talk to you in his own home.

Geto didn't understand what he saw in you. You were the total opposite of the women he hangs with. He knew his friend inside out, how could he not especially when they have the same type.

You didn't showed off, you didn't wear revealing clothes that made your body pop out. No, you were comfortable, wearing baggy clothes, not even bothering to doll yourself up for them. You weren't faking your personality and you weren't afraid of showing how you felt. You weren't trying to please them in any way, heck, you didn't even looked in their direction.

"You know, I wanted to talk to you about something." he said, seeing how you were trying to escape from there.

"Hm?" you tilted your head, deciding to stay for a little longer to hear him out.

"Me and Satoru shares our chores here. We don't do them everyday as you can see, but we do them once or twice a week." what a dull excuse. "Let me know what you wanna do next time." he doesn't believe shit he's saying.

"I see.." you didn't believe him either, did you? "I didn't know."

"Give me your number. I'll make a group chat so it would be easier for us to talk." Gojo better be grateful for all the work he's putting in.

"Alright." you gave him your number without thinking much about it.

"This is my number, and that's Satoru's. You can just save mine, forget about him." the dark haired man looked at you with the side of his eye, pointing at the phone numbers from the group chat he just added you in. He was testing you, to see what you'll say or do. "Just joking." he said when he saw you weren't reacting. "He'll be sad if you don't add him too."

"I don't think he will." you said, saving their numbers in your phone. Ah, his poor friend, you didn't even knew how you got him acting up in hope to catch your attention.

"Want to see how he'll react about it?" you shook your head. Right, you were a pacifist after all, what did he even expected. "Anyway, are you going anywhere this weekend?" you shook your head again, not having any plans and wanting to rest more. "I'm going to a party tomorrow. Why don't you come with me?" you looked displeased at his words, he noticed the way your nose scrunch.

"I don't like parties." of course you don't. He already knew the answer, but he was hoping he could get under your skin, play with you for a moment just to see his friend's reaction.

"Don't you get bored inside all day?" he would. He feel like he's suffocating staying in the same place for too long.

"Not really. I'm more comfortable here than outside." he really doesn't get what Gojo saw in you. You're so.. bland. You were too domestic.

"Well, the party offer is still available. Text me whenever you change your mind." he'll prove that you're the same as others. You just need a little bit of pushing, and he'll push you over your limits as much as it's needed.

But you didn't texted him that night. He waited and waited and he didn't got a single message from you. And the next day you had the audacity to appear in the kitchen, wanting to talk to them.

"About what we talked yesterday." you said, looking at the visibly annoyed man, and then at Gojo who was half asleep.

"What did we talked about yesterday?" the white haired man said, only remembering about the party he attended last night.

"I could do the groceries next week." you planned on going out to buy a few things anyway, so you're basically killing two birds in one stone.

"You're sure? There's a big list of things you have to buy." the dark haired man said, trying to push you into asking for help.

"Yeah, don't worry. I have a car, it's not like I'm carrying them from the store here." what a disappointment.

"Wait, what are we talking about?" Gojo finally came to his senses, seeing you appear out of nowhere and talking so casual, for once you didn't looked tired or scared to be there.

"Our chores. Suguru told me about it." all Geto did was to look at his friend, trying to telepathically talk to him, but his face said more than enough. Play along, that's all he had to do.

"Then I'll do the laundry." the dark haired man said, a smile appearing on his face. "And Satoru is doing the dishes."

"What, why me?" this was absurd.

"Because I'm doing them today."

"Anyway, I'm glad we managed to settle this." you said, turning around and ready to go back to your room.

"You could have texted, that's what the group chat is for after all." well, yes, but it was better to do some stuff face to face.

"What group chat?" Gojo was so far behind with this.

"Check your phone." that's all the dark haired man said, making his friend to get his phone out immediately.

"Anyway, I'll go now." and you disappeared from there.

Your life was supposed to be peaceful, wake up, do your usual stuff and then go back to sleep only to wake up and do the same thing again. Some would say that it's boring, but that's how your life is, and you don't want to change it.

However, the devils outside your room said otherwise, texting and texting even though it's not necessarily. Asking if you want to go out, or some other stuff that involves too much physical effort. You get it that they're trying to be friendly, but there's some boundaries and they don't seem to mind stepping over that line.

Your roommates are working full time trying to get you out your room. Sending you risky texts (nothing out of pocket, just stuff they wouldn't usually say), being extra extra nice with you, talking to you in a baby voice and if you're being honest, it's annoying. But you didn't said a thing, trying to help them save some dignity, knowing they probably don't even mean those words.

The stupid might not be so stupid after all. They been observing you, studying you, your likes, your dislikes, your body movements and you as a person. Their study so detailed that it had been a month and a half since you moved in, and now they're putting their plan in action.

It was almost midnight when your phone buzzed, your oh so lovely house mate Suguru send you a text. "Got some takeouts" and a photo of your favorite attached. You recognize the package, it was from your favorite restaurant. "Was on my way home and passed by that place, got something of what they still had left" he texted again. Lies, him and Satoru been placing orders left and right for all kind of food, the ones you like especially.

You thought nothing of it, walking out your room with a smile on your face as you went to taste whatever they have got home.

The next day it was Gojo's turn. Getting home a lot earlier, a bag with some black boxes inside, the name of a fancy restaurant written with gold on them.

"Y/N." he called your name, a smile on his face as he waited for you to come running to him. "Y/N." he said your name again, but you seemed nowhere to be found. God, what were you doing to him.

He left the bags in the kitchen, getting out of there and walking towards your room, opening the door without a warning and looking at you who sat in the bed.

You looked at him, looking a lot more relaxed than when he first met you. You were finally getting some sleep, and he feared that some random fucker would try to steal you from him.

You blinked a few times, eyelashes moving prettily, eyes as big as ever, and he had to mentally slap himself to keep his composure. Forget about the food, he wanted to eat you.

"I-" he took a deep breath, trying to figure out why he came to your room in the first place. "Got some takeouts from this restaurant I've been to." he had no idea what he was saying, he couldn't even hear himself. The way you look at him got him mesmerized.

"Okay." you got up, walking towards him, then into the kitchen.

The package looks expensive, and so did the food. You couldn't help but stare in awe, wandering if you're even allowed to look at it in the first place.

"Got invited to this restaurant that just opened." the white haired man said, looking at you eating. He's indifferent about the food, all he cares about is what you think.

"I see." you could only nod, taking a bite of another thing, tasting it and debating which one tasted better. "It's good." you said.

It didn't matter how much your stupid roommates would try to lure you out, if it wasn't food then it wasn't working. But they kept trying and trying, and they always failed.

Invitations to the movies, parties or even just a walk outside, you'd always decline. It didn't matter if all you had to do is cross the street, you'd say no. A part of you being too embarrassed to go out with them, I mean, what would people say if they see you together? Just look at them, you'll attract all the attention and that's terrifying no matter how much you think about it. Or what if people think you're fucking them or something? Oh god, what would your roommates say?

It wasn't like you wanted to keep that distance, it's just.. they're intimidating. The way they look down at you, corner you at the dining table and sandwiches you between them. The man spreading was real, taking all the space you had, making you feel so so much smaller. They would even take the air from your lungs if it was possible.

Was it wrong to say you liked it? How both of the men bend down to talk to you, or just look at you. Broad shoulders that were double your size, big chests that made you look down way too many times than you'd like to admit. It made you feel bad every time you think of it, but at the same time was it really your fault when they were some nymphs?

They don't seem to do a move, and even if they did, you couldn't figure out if it was some sort of hidden hint or if your overthinking it. They were nice, they were good roommates, but sometimes you wanted more than just little hello's here an there. You gotta do a move, but for the moment you have to think of a plan.

"You're home?" you said, walking into the kitchen and looking at the two men who were still in pyjamas.

"We're not going anywhere today." the dark haired man said, taking something out the fridge and walking next to you, wanting to go back to his room. "You're going somewhere?" he asked, looking at the dress you had on, making his friend look up his phone.

"I'm going out with my friends. I'll be back late." how did the tables turned. "Anyway, see you later." you walked out of there, finally going out for the first time in days.

Everything was going good so far. The weather was nice, you were having a great time, and so did your friends. But just like always, something haves to come up and ruin your mood.

"Y/N, you live with Gojo and Geto, right?" a friend of yours asked, finally letting everyone know of your living situation.

"Yeah." you said nonchalantly, not seeing why your friend should bring your roommates into the discussion.

"It's true? Spell the tea, and don't miss a single detail." another person said, but you weren't even sure of what to say.

"Which one have you slept with?" you saw your soul leaving at that question. "You haven't?"

"You didn't? Why?" you weren't sure yourself.

"We just live together, nothing more than the same old small talk." but you couldn't deny that they were tempting.

"You could have done it everyday since you live with them."

"Why are we talking about this?" you asked, confused on why you got in this situation in the first place.

"Don't you know?" you shook your head. "They're known for sleeping around." they are? Who could have guessed? You thought they had zero game.

"They're always out to party, in fact, you can't even call a party party if they're not there." one of your friends said, finally answering why your roommates were out all the time.

"They're so popular, there isn't a single person who doesn't know who they are." this have to be an exaggeration.

"So like.. About them.. You know, fooling around." you can't help but be curious. "How much are we talking about it?"

"I heard they take home a girl everyday." you never saw a single girl in there?

"I heard that they don't sleep with the same girl twice." what eccentrics.

"Haven't you heard about that girl that slept with Gojo three times? She's basically calling herself his girlfriend." what? He's in a relationship?

"No way. I saw him two days ago at a party. I almost went home with him." huh? Even your own friends?

"And you didn't invited me?" your other friend gasped then started laughing.

You were curious, just curious. And this cliche of a plot only got you in your thoughts. So, basically, your very hot roommates who seemed out this world had their own planet where they bang everyone but you. They go party all night and then leave with god knows who while you're at home in your room doing what you usually do.

It was none of your business, and yet you can't help but feel bad. What was wrong with you? Do you not have any kind of sex appeal? Was this why Gojo even asked you to move into his place? Because he knew he could leave you be? He should be happy that you looked in his direction to begin with.

More questions appeared, and you kept sulking for the rest of the day, even when you got home.

You shouldn't had asked, you should have minded your own business because now you can't help be sad. Why couldn't it be you?

"I'm back." you said while opening the front door, wanting nothing more than take a shower and then sleep for as much as possible.

"Welcome back." you heard Suguru's voice while you were taking your shoes off. "How was out?" tiring, but he didn't needed to know.

"Fun." you said, pushing your shoes to the side, out the way so no one would trip over them. "Got takeouts." you bought some without even thinking. It became normal for them to get something home that you did it without thinking twice.

"I'll get them." he got closer to you, picking the small bag from your hand.

He looked at you with a blank expression. You tried to mimic his face, not wanting to let anyone know about your foolish feelings, this jealousy that was eating you inside. And he picked it up fast, realizing you weren't feeling well.

"You're alright?" he tried to mask any kind of concern, not wanting to show that he cared.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" you couldn't even smile, even if you wanted to.

"Did something happen while you were out?" that's the only explanation he could came up with. Why else would you feel bad if it wasn't that?

"It's just the weather. Don't worry about it." why was he asking if he didn't cared about you? His dumb pity wasn't making you feel any better.

"You can talk to me if you want. I'm always free for you." he talks like he's not free for others as well.

"It's alright. I'll go take a bath and then I'll feel better."

"If you say so." honestly, he was so annoying.

You walked away from there, to your room when you remembered about that bath. Some warm water and the smell of your body wash would work so good in that moment. So, you turned around, going towards the bathroom.

You were so tired, still in your thoughts, overthinking about this whole inexistent situation that you didn't heard the water running.

You open the door, expecting to see an empty bathroom, but instead you saw that somebody was inside. Back towards you and taking a shower, you could recognize that white hair anywhere.

For a moment you froze in place, your body refusing to cooperate with you when you kept yelling internally to run away from there. Your eyes however still worked, and it wander for a little. It traveled from his head, to his neck, and then on his bare back that was exposed to you. He extended his hand, grabbing the closest bottle that was next to him, your shampoo, and putting some in his hand, making you silently gasp.

Forget about your bad mood from earlier, now you were mad at the fact that Satoru was using your shampoo, next thing you know that he's using your towels as well. What if the other man was using your stuff as well? Was that why his hair was looking way too good lately?

You ran out the bathroom, going back to your room, too angry to even change clothes. You just jumped in bed and fell asleep, hoping to wake up and forget about everything that happened.

The next day came, and you woke up a lot earlier than usually. You were hungry, thirsty and your head hurts. You didn't even drank any kind of alcohol yesterday and yet it felt like you were feeling the worst hangover ever know to mankind.

With small steps you walked out your room, eyes still closed as you were trying to find your way to the kitchen.

"Morning, sleepyhead." that colorful voice, as much as you liked Gojo you really couldn't handle his teasing at the moment.

"Mm." you hummed something, looking for some water.

"Do you feel better?" the dark haired man could act like he doesn't know a thing, but instead he chose to embarras you.

"You drank too much yesterday?" Gojo asked, feeling left out by the fact that you went out to drink and you didn't think of inviting him. He wasn't that much of an alcohol fan but he could have come as emotional support.

"Didn't even seen a single drink yesterday." you said, opening a bottle of water. If you would had looked in a better conditions, you would have looked believable, but no. Your hair was in all directions, you looked tired than you should be, and your dress had seen better days.

"Where have you been last night?" Gojo's voice was too serious, and even his smile disappeared. Geto would have put the same question if he didn't saw you yesterday.

"Here, where else?" it's not like you had anywhere else to go. "Fell asleep the moment I sat in bed."

"What happened yesterday anyway?" Geto asked, trying to find out what got you in that mood.

"Did something happen yesterday?" why was Satoru the last one to find stuff?

"She came back yesterday looking sad."

"Did someone did something to you? Is that why you look like that?" seriously, Gojo was over reacting.

"Fell asleep without changing." you were too relaxed about this. While the men were concerned about something bad might had happened, you didn't even seemed to care. "Was too tired yesterday."

"And why is that?" they're too insisting, and you didn't understand why. This is only ruining your mood. If they don't care about you why are they acting so nice? Now you can't but overthink again.

"It's nothing, really." everyone could see the sudden change, from tired you looked a lot sadder now.

"I'll deal with it, just tell me the bastard's name." you wanted to laugh but you were afraid Gojo might actually do something.

"It's not like that."

"Then?" the dark haired man crossed his arms to his chest, leaning against the wall as he looked at you.

"I heard something I didn't like." that was all? They thought someone was bullying you or picking on you. "I mean, I don't know if it's the truth but it makes sense and that's what I don't like."

"Then don't listen to it." you shook your head.

"I had my speculations and now everything is confirmed." you could only sigh.

"Is your boyfriend cheating on you?" boy who?

"I'm not in a relationship." that's reassuring.

"If you don't like the truth just close your eyes. It's easy to ignore what you don't like to see." that explains a lot of their strange behavior, but at the same time you didn't want to do just like Suguru just said.

"It's hard to ignore it when it's right in front of me." what would they know when they're the cause of your distress? "Honestly, I feel much better knowing that I was right. Now I can avoid causing problems." somehow, neither of the men liked how that sounded. "Anyway, I'm going to take a shower and then go back to sleep." why did you even consider their opinion was a mystery, but you do feel better about yourself knowing that you're just being delusional. Live the way you did before meeting them, easy.

You're playing with their feelings, and yours as well. While they're all open for your opinion, and actually growing to have a soft spot for you, you turn your back on them.

What more did you needed from them? They're trying their best to understand you, they've been so understanding and holding back way too much, but you still don't get the hints.

But they also don't get your almost non existent hints. I mean, can their actions be counted as hints? But perhaps that's what's wrong, the fact that no one is actually trying to imply something.

Can this situation get fixed? You refuse to get out your room until you sort your thoughts out. It got to the point where no one have seen you in a week already and Satoru is so close on kicking your door down to drag you out of there.

Frustration keep building up, from both sides. And it manifested in different ways for everybody. While you went out a little more than usually, trying to enjoy some fresh air, your roommates were out getting from bed to bed, making their name more known that it already is.

It didn't lasted long for you though, and soon you went back being a lazy cat. Your social battery drained quicker than you thought, but not theirs. And one day you woke up with strange sounds in the middle of the night.

You were sleeping peacefully when it happened. Being long gone in the dream world when you felt like you were being dragged out of it. Confused, you looked around, trying to understand the situation, what exactly was going on. You got out of bed, walking back and forth in your room, thinking only the worst about this situation.

Your neighbor is hurt, and those sounds are because of it. Or worse, someone broke into the house and your home alone because of course you are, what do you even expect from the two men who lives under the same roof as you.

You open the door slightly, still paranoid, but you were trying to understand what was going on.

You picked one of the house slippers you had next to your bed, ready to hit who ever came close to where you were.

Feminine moans, and you still couldn't figure it out if it was pain or something else. But you finally understood what was going on after a while.

Who dared to wake you up because they couldn't keep it down? Right, how could you forget about how promiscuous those two guys were. What if you come home with a guy one day? At least you had the decency to think of going to a hotel or something, not here where everybody could hear.

Your mood is ruined once again. Can you believe the audacity? How could you have dream about banging one of them, or both? The thought is still nice, and you're not crazy enough to pass such an opportunity, but still.

It was almost noon when you woke up the next day. And as much as you didn't want to see those guy's faces, you were curious about the girl. What did she had and you don't?

Shy, you got out your room. Opening the door of your room softly and walking as quietly as possible.

You walked past the living room when you saw what a mess it was, making you stop in place and reconsider what happened. Maybe somebody did broke into the house yesterday?

Cautiously, you walked towards the couch only to see Gojo sleeping peacefully on it. A blanket over him and it wasn't even covering him. He was also not wearing a shirt, and you could only imagine how he was feeling in that moment. After all, it was always cold in the morning.

Feeling a little bit of sympathy, you decided to do something good for once, even if he was annoying at times. Lowering yourself, you grabbed the blanket and dragged it over him. What happened last night did ruined your mood completely, but this was his house. Your jealousy can be put aside for a moment.

"Mm." he groaned, turning around to face you. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times and looking at you, then blinking a few more times and trying to figure out if you're real or not.

"Did I wake you up?" your soft voice only made him feel guilty, for everything he did. For the fact that he open his door for you with not so clear intentions and the fact that he kept looking at girls who resemble you in a way or another. Just like he did yesterday, meeting someone who looks too much like you in the dark, bringing her home and fucking her on the couch because he didn't want to bring her into his room, and for you to hear. Good thing he stopped himself from bending her over the dining table, right on the spot you like to sit at or else he wouldn't be able to even look at you right now. "Sorry."

"I was awake." he's not even sure if he got any sleep at all.

"I thought you might be cold." the only thing he's feeling at the moment is stupid, and somehow regret but he's not really sure about that.

"I'm not." he said, finally getting up, sitting on the couch and looking around to see if the place looked the same as he remembers. The blanket fell off him, revealing too much of him. You could see his bare back, and a bit of his thighs which were just as naked as his upper body. He looked at you, noticing the way you were trying to figure out why there was so much skin showing. "I'm not wearing any clothes." he answered to your unasked question. "I'm naked." the look you had on your face was something he haven't seen before, and honestly, this small interaction alone was doing more to him that anything he had done for the past few weeks.

You took a few steps back, making him laugh.

He rested his back against the couch, he wasn't even looking at you but he knew exactly what expression you had. "Why did you ran? Don't you wanna see more?" all he got in response was the sound of you walking away, hurried steps getting out the room and leaving him alone once again.

He's not good at communicating, and he's trying to mask that by a goofy facade, hoping you and everyone else won't notice. But man, it kinda hurts. He can't explain why, since he doesn't know why. He just feel dumb, useless for doing things he doesn't want to and still expect stuff to be the same, or even better.

Can you forgive him? He'll try to do better from now on. Either this or he'll bring girls over and over in hope to catch your attention.

"I'll go out, doubt I'll come back until tomorrow." Geto texted in the group chat.

"Me too :(" Gojo also sent something. "Don't miss me too much." you looked at the texts, and you can't be more thankful. You needed some time alone, like, all alone. Just you,the whole house for yourself and the sound of nothing.

"I'll stay home. I don't have any plans for today or tomorrow." and you're happy with your life.

"Don't get too crazy while we're out." the only wild thing you can do is take a cold shower instead of a hot one.

"I won't." and now you were waiting.

Your day was peaceful, watching a movie and then scrolling on social media. You didn't even noticed when it got dark outside, and now you're bored.

You have the whole house for yourself, you're all alone. No one is here besides you.

You're used to them being out, but now it just feels different. You were alone, and you didn't liked it. It was a shame to not have company on such a beautiful night.

Was it wrong to say you craved for some human touch? To feel the warmth of someone else, and perhaps the embrace of said person. It doesn't even have to be something sexual, or romantic. It can be just a simple interaction, no words needed.

You didn't even realize when you started rubbing your thighs together, your body feeling too hot for your own good. And the more you think about it the more it bothers you.

You're alone right now, aren't you? No one is there to disturb you. You can just.. indulge yourself, I guess?

With a quick movement, your pants were somewhere in the room, your shirt up your body, revealing your breasts and your panties to the side. Some porn playing on your phone and it wasn't much for help. That was until you saw one particular video, a man that seemed familiar in a way or another over a much smaller body. Your pussy twitching at the realization of who that man looks like. It looked just like one of your roommates and you were so ashamed for being turned on, but you couldn't help but look for similar stuff.

You needed more of them, anything that resembles your roommates, you needed to see it. It can be the hair, the body, or the way they just fuck. Anything that sparks something in your head, anything that screams them. You can't help but moan just thinking about it.

With a hand between your legs, you tried to mimic the movement of who ever was on your screen, moaning quietly when your imagination was going too wild.

Lost in your own world, you didn't even heard the front door opening, or the steps that were getting closer to your room. You didn't got a text that would warn you about someone coming home, so you weren't worried. Instead you were focused on that orgasm that kept building up, it was so close and you're trying really hard to keep your mind focus, away from those roommates of yours.

The man outside your room froze in place, your door was slightly open and he had a clear view of your bed and your little alone time. He could say something, but at the same time he didn't want to. Seeing you in that situation was too fascinating. Like, who would have thought the little angel that keeps herself from the world would do something like this?

It got him curious, what were you watching? What got you like this in the first place? The moans you leave out from time to time, not sure yourself if you should let them out or not.

What got him to almost open the door and get in your bed was when you came, holding back a moan that he just knows it would get him weak in the knees. You were trembling, eyes closed and biting your shirt to not let anything you might regret out. And you kept going even after you came, this time looking more desperate than before.

He couldn't keep it like this, he haves to do something. So, without thinking, he turned on his phone.

"Something came up, I'll be back in a few minutes." you got a text, looking at the name of the person that sent it and then letting out the moan you were holding back earlier. Suguru.

It only got you feeling more fucked up than you were already. Letting go of your phone and focusing on that annoying aching from between your legs. "Fuck." you cursed without realizing. Letting out small please as you tried to cum at least one more time before he 'came back'.

To his disappointing, you didn't came a second time, putting your clothes back on quickly and trying to make it look like nothing happened. He had no choice but to walk back to his room and try to sleep this off or else he won't be able to leave you alone for the rest of the night.

He couldn't sleep at all, thinking about your reactions, how his text got you moaning harder than before. What were you watching? Was it something he should be aware of? But he couldn't just take your phone and look at what you were looking.

He refuses to live with this information and let you go off easily. You had to pay for your actions. I mean, how could you not ask for help? And how could you let him see you like that when you didn't planned on letting him have any.

So, imagine how surprised he was to see you act like nothing happened the next day. Making him think there was something wrong with him for staring at you way too intensely. But he got a plan. You had to give up at some points, and he'll just help you give up sooner than later for your own good.

"I'm on groceries duty this week?" the dark haired man asked, already knowing what he he'll do.

"Yep." his friend said, looking in his phone.

"You're coming with me, Satoru." he said, a smile on his face and all he could think of was the sweet taste of your pussy on him.

"Why?"

"Just do it. Don't ask so many questions." and the two guys were off.

Now, Geto's plan would work only if you do as he planned. All he haves to do is deny you for a few days, cockblock you and leave you hanging just enough to become dumb for him. Then he haves to act like the knight in shining armor and help you, since he's a gentleman.

That's why he got Gojo with him, leaving him in the middle of the store and running home just to see what you'd do. And to his surprise, you were acting just like he wanted you to. Stuffing yourself full of your fingers, all in a hurry to release yourself from the previous time you couldn't. A hand over your mouth, trying to not let anything out, to not get too comfortable with this. But it was so hard, and you couldn't help but let a few sounds out once in a while.

He really doesn't get you. Why not asking for help? Both of the men were easy, a few nice words or just a nod and they'll be all over you. Heck he's the easiest person he knows. Give him a pretty look and he'll fuck you just the way you want. So why do you keep refusing to acknowledge them, or him at least?

He gulped, biting his lip before he open his mouth. "I'm back." he said it in a quiet tone, to make it look like he was further away than he actually was.

He loved this, the panicked look on your face and trying to gather your composure. Oh , he'll enjoy playing with you.

At first he would just pop out of nowhere, making sure you don't get any time alone, at least without acknowledging his presence. But now he would invite himself in your room whenever he walked past it. Slightly opening the door to catch a glimpse of whatever you were doing. It didn't matter if it was in the middle of the day or at night when he was supposed to sleep.

He can see how frustrated you were, and he couldn't be more happier than this.

"I don't wanna go." Gojo whined, looking at his phone only to sigh. "They'll force me to stay over the night." he pushed his phone far away from him.

"Then don't go?" you didn't understand why he was complicating himself when he could just stay home.

"Another of your family gatherings, huh?" the dark haired man said, making you realize that it was more than it looked like.

"Ah.." you scratched your neck. "We'll miss you." if he had to go, he had to go.

"I wish that I could take Y/N with me, but they'll never let go of it if I take someone with me." the white haired man groaned.

"Good luck." you can't really say much since you don't know how his family was like.

"Are you doing something tonight?" Geto asked, looking down at you and waiting for an answer.

"No."

"Really? Because you look very busy to me." you didn't understood his words. "Why don't you watch a movie with me then? I don't have anything better to do."

"I also wanna watch a movie." the white haired man whined.

"We'll watch when you come back." his friend said, but he wasn't really sure of that.

"I mean, sure." oh, if you only knew what your sweet roommate actually had in mind.

The time went painfully slow. But now it was dark outside once again. And Suguru could feel his palms sweating. What if everything goes as he wanted? He knows he kept thinking about it, but he can't see himself in an adulterous situation with you.

You're just there. You don't do much, you don't talk much and he's used to that. He's used to think about it, always putting what if in front of his day dreams. He was making fun of his friend for being such a dork but now look at him, actually concerned about this whole situation. What if nothing goes as he planned? Or what if it does?

Fucking without any feelings, that's what he's used to. But now this got him thinking that he should run to the closest flower shop to get some roses. Maybe some candles too?

"Suguru, are you awake?" a soft knock on his door woke him up from his thoughts.

"Y- Yeah." his voice betrayed him. "I didn't even noticed the time." he lied, finally opening the door and stepping into the hallway.

"What are we watching?" you moved your eyelashes so prettily. He's afraid he won't last that long next to you, especially since you're alone.

"I don't know." he didn't think that further yet.

In the end, you turned on the TV on a random channel, watching whatever it was on. A movie about a man trying to be a hero, the same old generic plot, with the same over the top acting and action. Lots of explosion and lots of unnecessary stuff. But it was the perfect movie for your situation.

No love included, no sweet words or couples. It was enough to make the two of you forget about the awkwardness between you two. Or so you thought. Because halfway through the movie the female lead appeared. And some time later the two actors were getting it on.

You couldn't help but stare in disbelief, the sex was so dry that you're surprised they let the scenes in the movie. On the other side of the couch, your roommate was trying his best to not look at you or else he might do something out of pocket.

You, however, didn't feel the same as him. So you turned your head towards him, looking at how uncomfortable he was. "You're alright?" don't look at him, don't look at him, don't- "This movie is stupid." you laughed, thinking that's what he wanted to say as well but he decided not to. "Wanna watch something else?" right, how did he not think of that?

Taking the remote, he changed the channel. And this one was even worse. Without any warnings you were looking now at two other actors making out like there was no tomorrow. And as much as he wanted to see your reaction, he changed the channel without hesitating.

Third time with luck. No explicit actions, just two actors out in the city, walking next to each other.

"I always wanted to tell you this, ever since I first met you." the male actor said, looking at his costar a bit too lovingly.

"I also have something to say." the female actor said, looking a bit shy and red in the cheeks.

"You go first." the male actor said, biting his lip and holding back whatever he wanted to say.

"Do you think this is a spy movie?" you asked, trying to alternate the plot even if it was obviously what was going on.

"I like you." one of the actors said and it made you sigh.

"Never mind." you shook your head.

"It would have been funny it if was." at least he was on the same page as you. And once again, he changed the channel, for your own goods.

"Thanks god it's ads." you could finally breath in peace.

You watch some cartoons and then change the channel again when it got too boring. The movie from earlier where those actors were confessing their love was now filled with obscene scenes. And unlike before, they actually looked they really were in heat. Touching each other like there's no tomorrow, the kisses looks so real that you won't be surprised if they actually start fucking. Even the moans sounded real.

Not wanting to look at that for any longer, you turned off the tv, breathing heavily and hoping you don't look like you're affected by it.

You gulped, wanting to see how the man next to you was doing, but at the same time you didn't want to look because you knew this was going to be a long night the moment you gave him any attention. And he was feeling the exact same, not daring to move an inch because he knew he couldn't keep his hands away from you for much longer.

Curiosity got the best of you, and in the end you ended up turning your head towards him, at the same time as he looked at you.

No one said a thing. The silence was too audible, but somehow comfortable.

"Come here." he said, resting his back against the couch and waiting for your move. You'd probably run, like you always do. That's what he expected you to do, but imagine his surprise when you got closer, looking at him with big eyes and waiting for his next command. He's not convinced yet, I mean, this was too good to be true, there haves to be a catch. "Here." he pat his lap, waiting to see if he could have you for the night or not.

You got on his lap, your legs on either sides of him and your hands on his shoulders. His hands travelled on your hips, moving them up your body, grabbing one of your boobs for a moment before he let go. He dragged you closer, lowering his head just enough to get a better look at you before his lips touched yours.

He's testing the waters, trying to see what you allow him to do, where your boundaries were before he'll let you have more of him.

But you didn't pushed him away no matter what he did. He could explore your body freely, there was no forbidden zone, he could touch all of your body and that only made him greedier.

All the shyness from earlier evaporated, all the awkwardness and doubt went out the window the moment the kiss became a much deeper one. Now you were eating each other out, hands all over the place and dragging the other closer whenever one got a little away.

"Let me take it off." he got away for a moment, taking your shirt off with a single movement. His lips were now on your neck, going down to your breasts and biting them, leaving marks all over the place.

This wasn't his usual style, marking his territory and making out. He usually just gets to the business. And he been lying if he said he didn't like what he's doing now.

One of his hands went to your ass, dragging you closer, moving yourself right on his hard cock that wanted to escape from his pants. He's about to lose it but at the same time he wants to take his sweet time because he haves a feeling that you'll run away from him tomorrow.

He guided you at first, moving you on him so both of you could get some friction, a little bit of relief before the big thing happens.

He kissed you, again and again. From your lips to your neck, sucking on your nipples and then back up. He wanted to know he been there before anyone else or at least before his absent friend.

You moaned quietly, letting out sounds bearly audible, holding back anything louder than that. But it was alright, he'll make you louder later.

The image of you stuffing your pussy with your fingers, desperately to cum was now playing in his mind.

He wants to try that, his cock is twitching just thinking about how warm and wet you must be.

He got you off him, getting up and looking at your disappointed face. "Take off your pants." he tried to keep his words minimal, but it was more than enough to get your face change in a instant.

Your actions holds more power over him than you think. It got his mouth watering just looking at you.

He took you in his arms, walking towards your room, almost kicking the door down so he could get in faster. He placed you at the edge of your bed, taking your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket, not even caring if you noticed him or not. Then he took his shirt off.

Pushing you in bed and hovering over you, placing your legs over his thighs so it would stay open. With a finger, he traveled in between your folds just to see how wet you were. How can he hold back when he haves you like this? He doesn't even think he can put his dick in just yet, who knows when he'll lose his composure and fuck everything up. One moment inside your warm pussy and it's over for him.

"Stop staring, it's embarrassing." your small voice didn't helped him with the demons inside of him.

He bite his lip, getting two of his fingers slowly inside your pussy. It was hard to hold back whatever words he had to say, he especially didn't wanted to let out any praises after you played with his feelings.

You feel a lot better than he expected, and his bars were already high. Somehow you manage to always exceed his expectations. Can you blame him when he started to move his fingers deeper and deeper? He just wanted to see how far he could go, see where your sweet spots are so he could give them the attention it needed.

Curling his fingers to see how you'd react, moving in and out at a fast speed only to slow down and curl his fingers again. You almost started crying when he started rubbing your clit. He was so focused on torturing you, showing you that it was better with him giving you what you needed than doing it yourself.

And when you came it wasn't even better, he kept his hand movement, overstimulating you just to show you that he can. But you too could play his game, tugging at his shirt to drag him closer to you and kiss him, making him stop for a moment. Ah, right. You probably wanted more than just his fingers after all this time he kept tormenting you.

He took his fingers out of you, making you feel empty. Now focusing on kissing you. The way he takes everything so slow was annoying, and you tried to grab his shirt, to get it off him. But that only made him laugh. "I'm not going anywhere." he said with a smile on his face, surprised at how impatient you were.

He can't say he doesn't get it, because he understands how you feel perfectly. And as much as he wants to tease you more, he can't. So he did as you pleased, taking off his clothes. Your eyes on him the whole time.

He got on top of you once again, getting in between your legs and staring at you. His cock resting on your lower stomach, just to get an idea of how much he could fit inside and man, looking at the size now you're a little scared, but still very much aroused.

As much as he wanted to turn a blind eye on this, he couldn't. Not when he sees how you look at him. Guess he was right about not being able to go all the way in today. He'll have to take small steps and he's afraid he doesn't have that much time.

So, he pressed your legs together, placing them over his shoulder, getting his cock in between your thighs. "You can't handle it." his words didn't made you happy. I mean, even if it was true, wasn't he supposed to suport you? Compliment you and tell you how good your doing, that you can take it.

He moved his hips slowly, ignoring the expression you're giving him and focusing on the friction. God, next time he'll get his hands on you he won't leave you alone.

You calmed down, now examining his face, his movement and how you could see the tip of his cock every time his pelvis touched the back of your thighs.

An idea appeared in your head, and you flexed your thighs, looking at the way he groaned, gripping your skin harder.

"You like it?" you were curious, just wanting to know how he feels, but he interpreted your words differently. "Should I do it again?" are you mocking him? Because if you continue like this he'll make this harder for you.

Your eyes had something innocent in them, like you were genuinely curious about his pleasure, yet he refused to believe it. I mean, you had him in such a desperate state, there was no way you weren't laughing at him.

"Close your eyes." he placed a hand over your eyes. He was feeling too embarrassed for his own good.

"I like looking at you." you tried to take his hand away. "You're cute." all he did was to groan in response. "Let me look at you, come on." you spend way too much time thinking about this to not be able to see him.

"Stay put or I'll fuck your pussy so good you'll forget your own name." he kept barking something between his teeth. But you didn't listen to his empty words. You wanted to see him in action not just talking.

"Come ooon." you whined, not listening to his threat.

Instead of any more words, you were met with him spreading your legs and his cock right against your pussy. You wanted to look at him? Then look.

Your heart was beating way too fast, and he wasn't even paying you attention. Slapping the tip of his cock against your wet folds, rubbing it up and down, and the slapping your poor pussy again. Taming brats was one of his favorite activities after all.

No matter how much he wants to show you that he's not just talk, he's true to his words. He'll let this slide this time.

So, to show you that he can still give you something without his cock deep inside of you, he got his body closer to yours. Pressing his thick length against your pussy, right onto your clit, and moving his hips slowly for you to get used to this feeling.

You did know your place after all, and yet you liked pressing his buttons. Lucky you he enjoyed your company or else he wouldn't have taken your teasing that lightly. But the more he thinks about it the more it gets on his nerves.

He started to let some of his weight into you, pressing his pelvis into yours harder, moving his hips faster. His hot breath against your ear, letting nothing but filthy sounds out, moans just for you to hear. And he was met with your nails into his back, dragging him closer, wanting to feel more of him on you, your legs wrapped around his waist and you wished nothing more but to see him from a third view, to have a better look at his back and just him in general.

Your moans, he wanted to eat them up. He was trying his absolute best not to kiss you in that moment. Because if he does, it's most likely he'd get used to it, and he doesn't want that.

"Suguru." the way you said his name got his cock twitching. "Kiss me." he groaned. You'll be too spoiled if he fulfills every single one of your requests. "Please?" he had to bite your shoulder in order to keep a moan from coming out.

Stop playing with him, for fucks shake. Can't you see he's unwell? Look at the way he's moving his hips, always doing what makes you feel good. He's not acting like his usual self. He's not selfish, he's not seeing this as a quick way to get off then say goodbye. All you could do in that moment is not give him attention, make him feel indifferent but instead you want more of him and it pissing him off because he wants more too.

"I want to cum inside you so bad." he let his thoughts out, too lost on how wet your pussy was, leaking out so much that it got on his dick without doing anything.

"Don't." you shook your head, not wanting to deal with any surprises.

He let you have unnecessary request, and yet he's not allowed that much? Perhaps you're the greedier one here. And he too can be mean.

Without much warning, he smashed his lips against yours, devouring you as his cock rubbed against you harder, in a much friendless pace. Trying to suck the soul out of you, muffling any sounds you might let out.

One of his hands on the side of your thigh, rubbing it up and down and sending chills down your spine. His tongue in your mouth and you can't hold it together for much longer.

Wrapping your hands around him, you left out a broken whine, that only got to him. You were so close to your release, he could practically pull that orgasm out of you if he's trying a little bit harder. But he'll be merciful tonight, mostly because he'll lose his mind if he doesn't.

You didn't lasted much longer, and seeing you cum makes him want to cum. And man, he came all over your belly, breathing heavily and resting his head against your shoulder.

"You did good." you said, going with your hand through his hair.

For a moment, he allowed you to praise him, closing his eyes and bathing in your scent and you kept petting him. But it didn't lasted for long because he came back to his senses, getting off you and helping you clean yourself.

He still can't believe he came that hard from nothing. If he stayed in your arms for any more longer he would have screw everything up. Even if he wants to leave you alone, run out your room and don't look back at it at least until tomorrow, he stayed. Watching you fall asleep before he left quietly, doing the walk of shame to his room and rethinking his whole life and everything he did wrong until then.

[writingwisterias]

Day 24: Pregnancy Kink

Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Pregnancy kink, established relationship

Masterlist

There were many presents underneath the tree, some beautifully hand wrapped by you and some had an attempt by Leon. The lights gave off a warm glow against the red and gold theme, a few personalized baubles lingering in spots. Tinsel decorated the walls in low hung strips, along with various other decorations. Leon loved it. This small home he had found and crafted with you at the heart. His present was the biggest this year, his eyes often lingering on it as he tried to figure it out without touching. A small game he had made for himself. You both wanted a quiet Christmas one final one before the impending arrival of your first baby came. So your parents had dropped off their gifts, the pile larger than he had ever seen. Most of them no doubt for the baby.

You were elsewhere in the house, he could hear the sweet tunes leave your lips as you hummed to yourself. He hated how active you were still, despite only being 6 months along. Always finding things to do, thanks to his job you were able to take an early maternity leave and not worry about the financial situation from it. He found you in the nursery, folding up the many clothes you had been preparing since finding out the gender. A girl. Something that he didn't know he needed until he found out, his heart already full of love for her.

“She's not even here yet and has got you doing her laundry” he joked. You jolted slightly after having not heard him enter the room but you still greeted him with a warm smile. The brightest thing he has ever laid his eyes on. “Someone's gotta do it, her daddy has been staring at the presents all day” you teased. Oh how you loved his laugh, the natural belly laugh he only seemed to use when you were around. “Maybe I can open one early?” He smirked “might tempt me not to stare at them anymore”

“You are talking like you already have you eye on one”

Of course he did. He was a giant child at heart, practically swaying on his feet as he waited for your answer. You nodded, holding your hands out for him to help you up. You smiled as his hands instantly found your waist, tucking you into his side as he sped walked into the living room. His smile was childish as looked amongst the gifts, searching the tags for the ones that signed your name. You watched as he realized the one he wanted was from you, heavy and hard. Almost like a book. “Choosing that one?” you smirked at him. Leon nodded his hair falling all over his face as he exaggerated the movement.

His fingers worked delicately on the tape, making sure not to rip the wrapping paper. It was definitely a book only the cover was black, adding to the alluding mystery he had created in his small mini game. He could see you smile - a small timid one as he opened the pages. An album, filled with images of a place he didn't recognize. It wasn't until he turned the next page he was shocked. Your maternity photo shoot…in lingerie?

Leon had made numerous comments on your changes as they came, his erection more prominent when he would gaze upon at night. ‘There's nothing sexier than what you are doing for our future’ he would always claim. He was more than happy to satisfy your hormones early on in the pregnancy. His cock was probably red and sore with the amount of times you woke him up needing him. Yet as you grew your frustrations increased but his willingness to help decreased in fear of hurting you. Something completely justified but it left you aching. To combat this you booked a boudoir shoot. Dressing yourself up and being guided into the sexier positions with the photographer. The idea was being saved until a wedding came around, always wanting to give it to him on your wedding day. But times grew desperate as did you.

“Honey this is…wow”

That's all he has to say? After that time and money you put into modelling this, just for a touch. You were sad, almost going to cry because of these damn hormones until you saw it. The curve in his sweatpants that slowly grew with a small twitch. His breath hitching as he turned the page. Leon couldn't describe how turned he was, the erection came almost instantly. At least he knew his drinking hadn't affected it yet. You had made him his own version of a playboy magazine, looking extremely attractive whilst being swollen with evidence of himself. “Is it good?” You asked, your voice timid as you shrunk in on yourself. Leon chuckled, his eyes finally meeting yours with a darkened glare. One that held only pure admiration and lust.

He stalked over to you, sitting on the sofa beside you. His lips encased your own, keeping you trapped in a whirlpool of affection and passion. His hands fell onto your hips gently hitching up the fabric of your summer dress until he found the waistband of your underwear. “Leon? Did you like it?”

His heart cracked at you attempting to seek his approval, as if his actions weren't words enough as your insecurities grew. “I loved it”

With that he guided you on his lap, enjoying the feel of you as your lips crashed against each other in another battle for dominance. Your hands worked on his buttons whilst he slipped your underwear aside. Leon slid into you with ease, his thrusts shallow and small as you worked yourself on his cock. Admiring your breasts in the small dress you were wearing, how they now grew in size. Your small belly pressing against his as you rocked against him. It was heavenly, he wanted nothing more than to be treated like this. In the corner of his eye he could see the present open on the floor, the imagery only spurring him on further until he finally felt his balls tighten.

His load coated your walls, the warmth spreading inside causing them to flutter and clench around his softening cock as you orgasmed around him. Your head landed in his neck, catching your breath. After all, it had been a while since you could do this for so long. Leon lifted you up, the two of you still connected. Silently carrying you to the bedroom where you assumed he was going to continue giving you an early Christmas present.

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[salemssimblr]

My Top 24 Screenshots Renders of 2024!

I was tagged by the so many lovely mutuals and creators! Thank you @elderwisp, @savagemagician3, @sikoi, @blvckentropy, @mosneakers, & @azeterna! I love yall so much!

I'm so sorry, despite my very best efforts I couldn't choose just 24, so have 30 instead 😅

Looking at all these together, I'm worried I may have plateau'd just a bit 😅 No but in reality, it's really cool to see that I've refined my style and methods over the year, starting in January and continuing it all through 2024. Seeing progress and improvement is one of my favorite things about this process, so doing these recaps is always enjoyable.

January:

Looking back, I'm still so proud of the first dancing set of renders for Ariss & Vasily, and who could forget the first Alice sighting?? I can't, look at her.

February:

February was a bit of a slow month for me but I still love how this A+tM album cover came out!

March:

March was a bit slower, but I love this set of Ariss (:

April:

April was a goood month, I'm still so in love with all three of these.

May:

MerMay was lacking for me a bit this year, but I really love how my contribution turned out (: & this spicy render of Ariss & Vasily is one of my favorites, if for no other reason than his little fang peek.

June:

June was all about Alice + the Madness! & like LEGIT? I still can't believe I made this Rolling Stone cover? I have a secret, I've tried to make another one for Alice, but nothing has or probably will ever look as good as this one so I've given up lmfaoooo

& this render of Erisande was such a labor of love. I sat down and said it'd be really quick and then spent hours editing meshes and adjusting the lighting... but then, that always happens with me and "quick" renders 😅

July:

Bit of a slow month, but I'm still so floored (& happy!) about the love Millie has gotten! This isn't even a completed render and it's one of my most well-received posts to date haha, but I can't blame anyone, look how cute she is.

August:

Ramping up into spooky season we have two of my favorite renders of all time, my "bog demon" and mothwoman! As obsessed as I am with Ariss and Vasily, it's really nice to do creative one-off renders and these were both SO FUN to do. I hope to do more in the new year too (:

September:

This iconic portrait of Ariss will always be one of my favorites (& is actually my computer's wallpaper rn, but a version updated with her 'new' tattoos), & this render of Kai could definitely be improved on (maybe in the new year...) but it was a really fun challenge! I do see flaws in it now but that's growing and learning!

October:

October was (not surprisingly) a very busy month for me! The idea for the render of Theo & Millie had been rolling around in my head since I first created them, & while the end result wasn't exactly what I was envisioning, I still really love how it turned out.

& though this set of renders for Ariss & Vasily took me FOR-FUCKING-EVER, and I see a lot of flaws even now (after trying my damnedest to have NONE), I still really love it. The end result/edit/colorway was NOT what I planned but I really fell in love with it.

November:

November, the month of ambitious scene-building, pose-making, and upping my skin shader game in a BIG way. I spent literal hours perfecting Ariss' new tattoo, and literal days building the scene for that gorgeous render of Kai.

& I'm so glad yall love that pose set! It was definitely a learning experience and a labor of love.

December:

Looking at this overview, December has been dark and spicy lmfao but I actually love it. Once again, all of these took wayyyy longer than I thought they would when I sat down to start them, but I'm genuinely in love with all three!

& that's a wrap (so far) on 2024! I'm having surgery tomorrow so not sure I'll be able to create/post anything else this year, but I have big plans for 2025! So stay tuned (:

I'm tagginggggggg @kuroashims, @a-m-pyra. @acidheaddd, @gothoffspring, @pralinesims, @thebramblewood, @moonfromearth, @nepotisim, & YOU, I want to see all your creations!

(There were a LOT more creators I wanted to tag but I saw yall have already done this!)

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (9/18)

(A/N: Halfway done! And it is still Christmas when I am posting this so consider this a very last minute Christmas present to all who celebrate and to those who don't! Love ya!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: The morning after (i'm just letting the tags speak for this one.)

Content Warnings: Adult language. Blowjobs. Cunnilingus. Horns as handlebars. P in V. Dirty talk.

Length: 4k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Read on AO3

When you made it back to the mountain it was incredibly late, or incredibly early depending on how you looked at it. In an hour or so the sun would start to rise. You were tired and Sylus was tired and without any word to each other you meandered back to the bedroom together and collapsed onto the mattress to go to sleep.

Sylus pulled you close, keeping your body nestled in the curve of his body. You thought maybe it’d be uncomfortable considered how much of his arms was covered in scaled armor but nothing poked into you. You weren’t caged, you were protected. Before you drifted off to sleep he pressed one more kiss to the back of your neck.

You could not say how long you had slept or how late in the day it was when you woke. You really needed to talk to Sylus about getting a clock back here so you could gauge when you were waking up.

Speaking of Sylus. You were still pressed against him. Sylus was fast asleep yet. But not all of him as you soon realized. All through the night you had not felt any part of his armored arms poking into you, but you felt something now remarkably lower.

Slowly you turned out of his arms. He slid onto his back without you keeping him anchored on his side. The sheets dipped and rose over the curves of your body, but one part was noticeably more tented. Your legs pressed together as you carefully moved the sheets back, making sure not to wake Sylus. He had changed into looser, more comfortable pants to sleep in last night when you returned so there was little to resist the stretch of his cock.

Last night had been all about your pleasure, he hadn’t taken anything from you. Then on the way home he kept whispering all the things he planned to do to you in the morning, making you a flustered mess. You were going to return the favor before he woke up and put his plan to fuck you senseless into motion.

You kept an eye on his face, making sure he didn’t wake as you slid your hand past the waist of his pants and felt his hard cock against your palm. After so long spent thinking about it you finally had it in your hands. Sylus was still asleep but he seemed to shift some as you touched him.

A smile grew on your face as you extracted his cock from his pants so you could access it easier. Gods, it looked even bigger than when you saw it in the hot spring. You moved your hand up and down, stroking him, watching as he got harder and his cock grew red with need. You were a bit worried before that with him being a dragon there’d be some big difference between your biologies but you were glad it seemed to be as every bit as normal as a human one. Bigger yes, but otherwise normal.

A bit of pre-cum built at the head and you bowed your head to lick it up. Oh gods, he even tasted good too! It was normally salty and a bit bitter, but he was not bitter. He was spiced and sweet like a salted caramel dipped in cinnamon on your tongue. You wanted to taste more.

You took the tip of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. You opened your mouth wider and bobbed your head up and down, taking him down your throat a little at time. Were you going to be able to fit all of him in your mouth? You weren’t sure. The thought made you even wetter.

You kept one hand wrapped on his cock and moved the other between your own legs. You moaned around his cock as you began teasing your clit. Your eyes fell closed as you focused on bobbing your head in time with the strokes you played across your clit.

A hand fisted into your hair and your head was forced down fully. You gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “Play with and expect to get burned, little bird.”

It was awkward to do with his cock down your throat but you looked up through your watering vision to see Sylus awake with a hungry look in his eyes. “I feel I should thank you for such a pleasant wake up call.” he said, running his hand over the back of your head but not letting you up. “But I also know I didn’t give you permission. What should I so about that?”

You wanted to say something but quite literally could not get the words out.

He chuckled darkly, his cock twitching in your mouth. “I’ve thought of this exact image so much in my brain, actually seeing it, feeling it, is another thing entirely. Now that I have you here, what should I do? I could keep my hand fisted in your hair or use your mouth to jerk myself off or put you on your knees and hands behind your back as I fuck your throat.”

Oh gods above…

Your hand was still between your legs and as if on instinct you stared swiping at your clit again. Sylus caught the motion. “And I see you like that idea too. I’m learning so much about you, little bird.”

He pulled your head off his cock and you took in ragged breaths. You didn’t have much time to catch your breath before he pulled you back up the bed and trapped you under him. “Keep playing yourself. I want those pretty little fingers of yours deep in your pussy. Stretch yourself out for me.” he said before claiming your lips in a bruising kiss. 

You did as he said and shoved two fingers into your cunt as he ravaged your mouth. You could feel his cock trapped between your bodies, grinding against your wrist.

“Sylus,” you murmured against his lips, “I…I’m gonna…”

“Already?” you could hear the humor in his voice. “My dear little bird, you wanted this so badly, didn’t you?”

You fucked your cunt faster. His voice alone, spoken in that deep primal growl could be enough to make you come.

“Well?” he said. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.” your pussy clenched around your fingers. You could feel your orgasm building. “Yes I did. I do!”

“Good. Now don’t stop fucking that pretty pussy of yours until you come.” He moved further down to your neck, refreshing the bruises he put there last night and adding a few new ones.

His head dipped even lower to your chest. Your nipples strained against the thin white cotton of your sleep chemise. He tweaked one nipple in his hand, pinching and pulling on the hard sensitive bud and took the other into his mouth over the fabric. He sucked hard on it, lathing it with his tongue so the fabric turned sheer. He gave it a small tug with his teeth then traded, his mouth covering your other breast while his hand teased your other nipple through the wet cotton.

“Sylus! Fuck!” your legs were shaking, so close to release. “Sylus please! Please!”

“Go ahead. Come on your hand as I play with your tits. Come for me!”

So you did and it felt like your body had broken apart, shattered into a million pieces.

Your chest was heaving, your legs twitching, your hand still stuck in your cunt as you rode out the final waves and tingles of your orgasm. Sylus grabbed the hand that was between your legs and stuck them in his mouth, sucking the juices off of them. His eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“You taste divine.” he muttered, giving a gentle nip to your fingertip after he was done. “I want to taste more.”

“Oh gods, give me a second to breathe.” You placed a hand on his chest to slow him down.

“Hmm,” he clearly wanted to keep going but rolled off of you so you could take a moment to catch your breath. “I suppose this can give you the chance to disrobe in case you don’t want me to tear this nightgown off of you.”

“That too.” you sighed, curling your body towards him.

He tilted your head up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.” he said.

You laughed. “Good morning to you too.”

“Since we’re taking a moment to breathe before continuing, I feel there are a few things we should go over if we are committing to doing all of this.” he said. “There are certain things you should know and what we should try to avoid.”

“Like what any why?”

“Well, the biggest thing is biting.”

“Biting? A little too late for that, don’t you think?” you gestured to your neck.

“Yes. Honestly that was somewhat careless of me to bite you as much as I have.”

“Why?”

“Because biting while engaged in intimacy could accidentally make us mates.”

“Mates?”

“Yes. I suppose it is the closest thing to a human wedding you could get in the dragon world. Granted, biting alone cannot make us mates, there is a whole ritual for it that we’d have to engage in, vows that evoke magic to complete it all. But I do not know how many of the rules of dragons apply to me, so best to try and minimalize it as best we can. Once a bond is made, it cannot be undone.”

“Alright. And what happens if we do accidentally become mates? What does that mean?”

“Mating attunes the couple together on an emotional and physical level.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning wherever you would be, I would feel a pull towards you. Your pain is my pain, and your pleasure is my pleasure. It also opens the channel for breeding.”

You pressed your legs together, glad he wouldn’t be able to tell you were slightly excited by the idea of him breeding you. “When you say opens the channel…”

“Dragons can only breed when they are mated. So as long as we are not mates there should be no worry about you becoming pregnant.”

That was a relief. As much as the idea of him fucking you with intent to get you pregnant did turn you on, you knew you did not want a child yet.

“So…what are we going to do now?” you asked.

“Well, I only got a small taste of your arousal and I want to make a meal out of it. So you had better take off that nightgown now before I rip it off.”

You nodded, quickly shuffling around so you could pull the gown off over your head. Sylus had pushed his pants the rest of the way off. His eyes roamed over your naked form, taking in every dip and curve. “By the hells you’re exquisite.” he dragged a claw down your chest to your navel, watching as goosebumps erupted along your skin.

He got to your legs and pulled your knees apart. His tongue ran across to wet his lips as he stared at your cunt. “You are soaked, little bird.” He ran his mouth across your thigh, sucking bruises onto the soft supple skin. “And so warm.”

“Sylus…” you fisted your hands in the sheets.

“And so sweet.” he liked a stripe straight up your cunt to your clit.

Your head fell back against the pillows as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, working over the bundle of nerves mercilessly. He sucked hard on it and your hips jumped to meet his touch. He placed a hand on your abdomen to keep you still as he continued to assault your clit until your legs were shaking.

“You’ve made such a mess,” he whispered, giving your clit a final kiss before he moved down to your pussy. “So much arousal is leaking out of this pussy. You want to give me a feast, don’t you?”

“Yes, please Sylus!”

“Then I will enjoy my meal with vigor.” he dove between your legs, lapping up the arousal that leaked out of you.

He groaned, sending tiny vibrations up your spine. He wouldn’t stop talking, even with his mouth preoccupied. It was hard to hear muffled between your legs but you thought you picked out a few short words. “Taste…drown in…fuck…every day…”

His tongue plunged into your cunt and you tried to close your legs. He grabbed one thigh with his hand and the other was grabbed by his tail. He pulled your legs wide, keeping you spread open as far as you could go. “None of that.” he muttered, “I want easy access to my breakfast.”

He went back to devouring you. The sounds his mouth made against you were obscene and not at all quiet. If there was any doubt to how wet you were it was gone. If anyone else had been in this mountain they would have been able to hear the wet slurping sounds that accompanied your moans. And Sylus was not stopping!

You could feel yourself moving towards another orgasm at lightning speeds. Your body was restless, unable to writhe with him pinning you down. All you had were your hands. They went from fisting the sheets to rubbing your breasts. Until that is you reached for the man between your legs. Your intent was to grab his hair but touched his horns instead.

You grabbed his horns, pulling him closer so he couldn’t pull back even a little from your cunt.

The moment you did he moaned, his eyes opening and staring straight at you from between your legs. His pupils were blown wide and you remembered what he said before about his horns being sensitive. A smile grew on your face and you gripped them harder. He moaned again.

You couldn’t really see much past Sylus’s hulking frame but you were sure you felt the bed moving further down. No doubt Sylus grinding his red hot cock against the mattress. Fuck you wanted on it! Wanted to be what he was rutting into instead. But you could tell Sylus wasn’t letting you go anywhere until you came on his face.

Your words were replaced with sharp panted moans as you felt your climax edging closer. Sylus was not letting you drop his gaze and it was that intense eye contact as he drank you down, body and soul, that made you tip over the edge. Your head snapped back against the pillows, moaning aloud to the ceiling as you came all over his face. Your only tether to reality was the grip you kept around his horns as your ground your cunt against him.

“Fuck…” you whimpered. Every little touch made your breath hitch.

Sylus released your legs at last but you didn’t even have the energy to close them.

“Have I worn you out already?” he asked, tracing soothing patterns along your thighs.

Your eyes cracked open again. “Not yet.” you shuffled onto your knees despite the pleasant ache in your body. “Not until I get to fuck you properly.”

“You are a wonder.” he kissed you and you could taste yourself potently on his tongue. “And since you like being in charge, I’ll let you take the lead this time. If you want to fuck me, then fuck yourself on me. I want to see you bouncing on my cock.”

“Oh gods…” Such filthy words.

“If there are any gods they’re not looking down on us, little bird. They don’t have my permission to see or hear you in this moment. This is all mine.” he grabbed you flipped you over so you were on top of him. “Now fuck me.”

This man, this dragon, was going to be the death of you. You would not survive hearing him say such things every day.

You shuffled back a bit so you were straddled over his hips. His cock was between you, still hard and begging to be touched.

You took him in your hand and pressed the head of his dick to your clit, teasing it again. Sylus watched your movements, breathing heavily as you smeared his pre-cum over your clit. Then you lifted your hips up, notched him at the entrance of your cunt, and sunk down.

It took some time, even after how much prep had gone into stretching you out you still needed to shimmy yourself down the entire length of it a bit at a time. Rocking your hips up and down, taking more inside yourself with every shallow thrust. Fuck he was so big! He was stretching you out like you had never been before. There was a slight burn but it only added to how good you were feeling finally having him inside of you.

You finally made it down fully, your hips flush to his as he laid fully sheathed inside you. You let out a shuddering breath as you let yourself just feel him in you. Fuck you felt so full! Your hands were on either side of the gem in his chest, keeping yourself balanced.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Sylus panted, “Didn’t even know if I was going to be able to fit in you for a moment there.”

“Barely.” you took in a shaky breath. “Why did we not do this sooner?”

“Because you got all embarrassed about it and said that the one time you masturbated in front of me that it was an anomaly that would not be repeated. So much for that, huh?”

“You really want to be a brat about it while I’m sitting on your cock?”

“I think the fact that you are sitting on my cock means that I do get to tease you about it. You wouldn’t even let me see you naked and now here you are.”

“If you’re going to be a dick I can just get off and take care of this myself.”

“Now why would you do that when you said just a minute before that you were not done until you got to fuck me properly?”

You smacked his chest. “You are such an ass!”

“That’s hardly a way to talk to your master.” he had on a wide shit-eating smile. “Now, do as your master says and ride my cock like I know you want to.”

You bit back a colorful response. Pleasure first. Wringing his ass for being a cocky bastard later.

You lifted your hips up till just the tip was in you then slid back down. Your body was getting used to the size of him, opening up a little more with each thrust. The friction went from burning to so sweet in no time at all. It felt as if he had been made to fit perfectly in you.

Your thrusts got faster and shallower as you began chasing your pleasure in earnest. Fuck you felt so full!

“That’s it.” Sylus moaned, holding you by the hips, helping to keep you moving. “You feel so good wrapped around me. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t think you could even if you wanted to. Your body was working off of instinct. Chasing pleasure and release, recklessly and without any inhibitions. All your body new was harder, faster, more. More! More! More!

You grabbed your breasts, playing with them as you rutted against Sylus.

“Do what you need to make yourself feel good.” Sylus kneaded your ass. “You look beautiful like this. Wild and desperate with lust. Moaning like a bitch in heat.”

Your pussy clenched around him. “Do you like that? Like when I point out how shameless you are? How do you think your little village friends would feel about you, knowing that you’re bouncing on a dragon’s cock like this?”

“Sylus, please…” you fell forward, catching yourself on his shoulders. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“So informal. Am I not your master?” he said, his voice a low growl. “I can tell you’re close. If you want me to help you come you need to ask.”

“Sy--” you got a warning hit to your ass when you tried to say his name. It only ignited you more. You were tempted to keep saying Sylus instead just to get him to spank you more.

“Master,” you said, your voice slurring with pleasure, “Will you please help me come? I want to come on your cock. Please!”

“That’s better.” he grabbed you firmly and started fucking up into you. “Oh hells, I’m gonna come. Want me to come with you?”

“Yes! Yes! Please master!” you whined. “I want you to come with me! I want you come inside me!”

“Oh fuck!” his claws dug into your flesh. If he had stabbed into you, you hadn’t noticed. You were so close! So fucking close!

“Kiss me!” you struggled to form words. “Please!”

Sylus claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Your attention was elsewhere so it was slightly awkward, a little sloppy. But damn it did it just feel so good to kiss him. Your hands wove into his hair as you moaned into his mouth.

“Sylus!” Out of your mouth came a sharp scream of pleasure that had tears rolling down your face. It felt like your body had been struck by a lightning bolt as you came with Sylus. Your cunt clamped down hard around him, milking ever drop of his cum out of his cock.

He was still fucking up into you as he came, slowing down and letting you ride out the high for as long as possible. You were breathing hard, little whines and moans still escaping your throat as you danced between pleasure and reality.

You melted against Sylus, your body going lax as the orgasm faded away and all that was left were two sweaty bodies still mingled together. Sylus had released your hips and crossed his arms over your back, holding you close to him as you caught your breath.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

“Physically or mentally? Cause I’m not sure which is which right now.” you nuzzled your nose against his neck.

“Wasn’t too rough? Didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It was good. Really good.” you felt like going back to sleep. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“No, but I get the feeling you don’t have as much stamina as me.” he smoothed out your hair. “Lasted longer than I thought you would though.”

“Yay…” you shifted on top of him. His soft cock still wedged in your aching pussy. “Can we…?”

“Yeah. Here we go, I’m gonna pull out now.” he pulled you off him and a shiver ran up your spine without him inside you anymore. You could feel the warmth of his cum spill out of you.

“Gonna need to clean the sheets now.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Relax, you’re going to feel the aftereffects of this soon, so rest now.”

“Yeah…” you looked up into his red eyes and smiled. “Can I have another kiss?”

“You can have whatever you want, my little bird.” he kissed you sweetly. “Anything for you.”

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt8

Howdy y'all! It seems I'm back. I'm writing this at like 5 AM. Idk why it seems like y'all didn't like the last part? Was it too long? Were the colors overwhelming? Hopefully not cuz it's so much more in here. Anyway here's the next part. Tell me if it's too long. Also I got college tests comin up so.....expect some delays for the next few days

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6, part7

------

You’re standing on a cliff side, the sunset beautiful and fleeting. Ash swirls around you. You look to where it’s from and it’s your cat Simon tipping over the urn. The ashes surround you as a mysterious laughter surrounds you, along with mocking words you don’t understand but just know they’re meant to be despairing. And that he has a Russian accent for some reason. The ash swirls faster and the next time you look at Simon he’s a charred mess of what he used to be.

“Simon?” You ask, distraught and horrified at your sweet kitty’s death. Simon’s eyes were dead and bluer than you remember. The ash surround you more and more and you sense Johnny’s presence. You don’t know why or where.

“Johnny?” You call out and the Russian’s voice grows louder and more mocking as more, sadder voices joined in. It didn’t feel like there was an outside source to the voices. It felt like it was in your mind.

"He was the best of us"

"The toughest"

"Would have fought the world barehanded"

Your location changed and you’re looking over Johnny’s dead body, the shot on his head bleeding nightmarishly. His lifeless eyes pointing at you without looking at you. You hear an authoritative voice announce: “All stations- this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe... One KIA.”

You see a strange shadowy figure loom over Sergeant Soap. His shadows reminded you of the fur on Simon.

It was hard to make out but you saw a skull with hollow eyes and knew you just knew that this was death and he was going to take Johnny away from you. You look at the horrific state of Johnny. Your mouth doesn’t move but you’re calling out to him as the reaper takes him away.

“Johnny! No! Please!”

You couldn’t move, you were running but it’s like you weren’t moving. You call out to them more but it’s like you weren’t actually screaming. You catch up to them and tackle death, but he and Johnny disintegrates into shadows and ash that surround you again. The voices come back: the Russian, the voices, Johnny himself. You couldn’t understand anything you’re hearing other than occasional words:

“KIA” “Bonnie!” “Be careful who you trust sergeant. Peo-“ “bravo six goin da-“ “-ple you know can hurt you the most” “translate that from bullshit to eng-“ “hen! I’m here” "-the toughest" “or I’ll FUCKiNG hang you from it” “would have fought the world bare handed” “LOVE! WAKE UP!”*

——————————————————

You GASP loudly as you’re shaken from your torture.

“Lassie?” He shakes you again

You look at Soap “Johnny?!”

“Aye I’m here what hap-“ you hug him tightly, just like the one you gave him yesterday: strong, tight, wet, bordering on suffocating if he wasn’t so durable, all done while you’re shaking. He grips you back, rubbing your back and ruffing your hair. “Birdie…what happened?”

You squeeze harder and he catches the hint that you just need to be grounded right now. He leans into your ear and whispers reassurances

“Jus’ a bad dream Bonny lass, yer here with me now. Yer big strong man, back from war safe and sound. You’re okay Bonny nothing is gonna hurt ya.”

“I’m not worried about myself Johnny..” you mumble. His words hit him like a brick all over again and his heart swells. he’d tease you for falling for him but…not now.

“Aye….I’m…sorry tae worry ye”

“I saw you dead…”

“…..” he goes quiet

“I saw you dead…and…and death took you…a-and…I-I tried to stop it b-but he disappeared a-and Simon also died and was burned-”

“Hey, hey…hen…jus’ a nightmare okay?”

“I’ve had this exact nightmare before. I don’t know why it keeps happening. It feels so real.” You finally pull back, looking at him. This time, when looking at the bandage on his head, you feel relieved. He’s hurt, but he’s here. Here and breathing. You place your chin on his neck and look up at him with soft puppy eyes

“I’m worried for you”

“I Ken.”

“You could’ve died”

“Aye”

“Your head was shot”

“Dinnae need ta remind me.”

You sigh and close your eyes as he ruffled your hair.

“I’m here Bonny. I cannae promise you to be back next time. I’m not that naive, seen too many a men sharing a laugh wit me one night and share a body bag the next. Hell, even civis die without warnin’ all da damn time. I cannae promise ye next month or next week, and neither can you, but I’m promising ye right now. And right now I’m layin’ in my kip with the fairest princess in the land.”

You crack a smile

“Aye, she’s even fairer now”

You giggle and hide your face into his chest.

“I’m glad you’re here Johnny”

“Haven’t heard you say that before. Say it again?”

You don’t shake your head or roll your eyes, instead you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close to your chest

“I’m so happy that you’re here Johnny!” He growls and grips your body harshly

“I could get used tae this bein my good mornin’” he rasps

“Hmm..me t-…..” you stop, remembering something

.

.

“birdie?”

You pull back and have an annoyed look on you

“Johnny.” You say firmly

“A..aye?”

You grip his face roughly, as if trying to punish him “were you awake while I was trying to get out of your hold last night?”

“Dinnae Ken wha’ yer talking aboot’”

“Johnny.” You say ever firmer, looking at him with a piercing gaze

“Yes gorgeous?”

“Were you. Awake. While I was trying to go sleep in my bed?”

“…..”

“Johnny?” You growl, your touch now pressing into his head injury (not too hard through) to get your point across. “Tell me the truth”

“I love you mo chridhe”

“JOHNNY! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!”

You rip the pillow out from under him and raise it above your head like a bloodthirsty barbarian, ready to strike

“Princess! Mercy please I beg o’ ya!”

“There’s no doll here now sergeant suds! Now it’s your superior! And you’re taking discipline”

He laughs at your mimicry, blocking your pillowy bludgeons to the body

“Since when-" smack "-were you-" smack "-my superior?”

You growl and increase your pace.

“I dinnae take orders from a civi!” He chuckles. He tackles you to lay down on the bed while you continue to pillow smack him.

“I’m the princess. I outrank you sergeant! Now unhand me!” You blow your tongue at him.

“Yes yer highness.” He rolls off you. You jump off the bed, face red at what you endured. He gets off and runs up to you too.

“C’mon leannan, aren’t ye glad that yer brave soldier was there to protect ye from the nightmare?”

Pause.

Well….that’s true. Who know how bad that nightmare could’ve gotten if he didn’t shake you awake and comfort you. He hugs your from behind, doing that terrible habit of leaning in close behind you to speak lowly over your shoulder while being half dressed

“I’m just doin’ by job princess. Duty calls”

“And does your Call of Duty include trapping and annoying the princess until she attacks you with pillows?”

“Tis’ Modern Warfare bonny. Things are like that these days.”

“And the bedtime story you made me tell?”

“Tis’ Modern Warfare too. I’d die for it” You sigh. He’s impossible. He leans into your ear more. “If it’s nae too late, Good mornin’ leannan”

“It’s the afternoon Johnny. It’s what happens when you sleep around sunrise”

“My sunrise happens when my sun rises”

“And when that?”

“When didja wake up?”

You blush “shut up.”

“Yes yer highness. Yer always so grumpy in the mornin’”

“You’re always annoying in the morning. Do they train you to be a nuisance the second you wake up?”

“Aye, ye never Ken when they might get piece o’ mind” You shake your head and try to move, his arms are imprisoning you fucking again*

“Johnny.”

“Nae”

“……I’ll make you breakfast”

“A big one?”

“Yes you beast. A big one. But you’ll have to get dressed more than your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. You don’t see me walking around the place with jus’ my skivvies on do you?”

He shrugs “sounds like a you problem.”

“Do it and I’ll give you the flat’s entire inventory of bacon and a dozen eggs”

He lets go and dashes to the closet to get dressed. You smile and skip to make a feast fit for an army. A one man army that is. A tiny while later he there, shirtless but at least he’s got pants on.

“Thank you honey”

“You don’t have to say that. And I’m not your honey” you say the line you’ve said many times to the point where it’s an affectionate routine like your personalized greeting

“Then why are you so sweet to me hen?” He says on cue.

“Okay you Lorne lad. Go sit down as I make you breakfast”

“I want tae hel-“

“Sit down.”

He obeys and spends the entire time staring at you, just like Simon, who’s watching nearby. As per promise you added the rest of all the bacon you had into a skillet

“Aye, little more?” He teased

“This is like a kilo of bacon”

“Not enough”

“Sush this ain’t epic meal time.”

You decide to be a cunt to prove a point make enough food to feed the entire cast of Game of Thrones. Let’s see him ask for more now. what’s in an English/Scottish breakfast again?

Eggs. How many Eggs? Well no one eats eggs like Gaston, but Gaston hasn’t met Soap.

Sausages. How much sausages? Enough to make AO3 look clean enough to have a church service in.

“Ohh leannan that looks good!”

“I said shush let me finish”

Beans. Beans? You and the boys at 3AM Lookin for BEANS and this is enough gas to keep a tank in orbit.

“Bonnie I think that’s eno-“

“Shush”

Mushrooms. He wants mushrooms? Here’s Enough to recreate The Last of Us.

Does Johnny boy want toast? Here is Enough to eradicate the local duck population from existence, then enough tea to recreate the Boston tea party and serve the queen leftover. But knowing Johnny he’ll want coffee too.

How much coffee you give him? Enough to make a college student flinch

Aaannnd finally tomatoes. That’s Enough tomatoes to boo away every mediocre LA comedian into a better profession.

“Done” you grin and turn to look back at Soap, who was visibly salivating. You chuckle “are you hungry princess bubbles?”

“Aye” he says looking at the domestic scene before him. You, in pajamas and his shirt, making him a breakfast feast when he came back from deployment. It’s not just the food he’s salivating at.

“Eat up” you start serving it all and he digs in like a wild dog. Before meeting him, You’d be disgusted and put off by this barbaric behavior, but because it’s Johnny, not only do you let it slide, you also find it endearing.

Simon jumps on the table, you shoo him away from your plate, trying to make him eat from his kitty bowl. It’s on the table because he refused to eat otherwise. He wants to eat with your two and that’s final.

He, for some reason decided to eat from Soap’s plate, which was smart because Johnny “I’ll eat anythin’ you make me” Mactavish doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

You leisurely eat your food as Johnny seems to be challenging Matt Stony for his records. You sip on your beverage, that’s in a cup, while Johnny drinks from the pitcher. He finishes his breakfast, a surprise to even you seeing how much he ate, and lays back with a groan

“I’m stuffed lass. Dinnae think I can move.”

“You didn’t have to eat all of it”

“Nae, I’ll eat anythin’ and everythin’ ye make”

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it. Do you have any idea how expensive that brand of bacon was?” You say looking at your phone casually

“Ye’d have more money if ye married me for military spouse tax benefits Bonny” You laugh, what a bold offer and yet it doesn’t sound too bad.

“I’m sure”

“Think about it Bonnie, I’ll make ye a Mactavish, you already act like one, makin yer soldier a feast after comin’ back from the war” oh is that why he was affectionate today?

You snort “oh no Johnny. Once you retire, you’re taking my last name”

“And why’s tha’?”

“it’ll do you some good changing your last name. If anyone asks why you took mine, just say you married a feminist” you sip your drink.

"what's wrong with Mactavish?" he whines through his chuckle

“You’re a war criminal Johnny.” You casually mention, as if Soap ever wanted you to know that.

Jazz Music Stops

He didn’t.

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 12

Summery: Something seems to be going on with Jason. Instead of pushing him, Y/n lets him be and talks to friends.

Warning: swearing

I Tag list: @teapartydreams @adorabluesposts

ao3 Series master list

A/n: Happy holidays! Have a filler, it’s a little angsty but it ends in a happy. I know I've been just posting just this pic. I'm having a bit of a hard time ending the other fics but hope to get them done in January. That is my goal.

—————

March 22

Y/N (7:37 am)

How’d it going today?

Y/n (8:58am)

I burnt my breakfast

I don’t even know how that happened

I looked away for a minute and the next thing I know

The smoke detector went off and there’s smoke in the kitchen

D:

I’m so sad

Now I don’t have anything to eat and I’m late for school

Y/n (10:00am)

I am not sure why I thought getting my engineering degree was a good idea

Nothing my teacher is saying is making sense

I want to go home

Y/N (1:28pm)

So, classes are done but now I have to work

With the amount of sleep I didn’t get

Work is the last thing I want to do

Y/n (3:43pm)

I made another fire again today

Downside, they docked my pay a little

Upside, I get to go home early today

So there’s that

Y/n (4:39 pm)

I hope you’re doing okay

Y/n (5:04 pm)

Hey Steph?

Is Jason okay?

Stephanie

What do you mean?

Y/n

I don’t know

I haven’t heard from him today

I just want to know if he’s okay

Stephanie

He hasn’t talked to you at all today?!.

Y/n

No, and we didn’t get into a fight

Did something happen?

Stephanie

Yeah, but I don’t think I’m the one who should tell you

Y/n

Yeah I understand

There are some things he hasn’t told me

I know that much

Stephanie

I’m sorry

Y/n

No worries

But could you tell me if he’s doing okay whenever you see him?

Stephanie

Of course

Y/n (5:14 pm)

Do you think you’ll see Jason today?

Roy

Um, I’m on my way to him now

How’d you know?

Y/n

Wild guess

I know he’s dealing with something but I don’t know what

Could you tell him I’m here for him if he ever needs me?

Roy

Why can’t you tell him yourself?

Y/n

He hasn’t been talking to me today

And I didn’t want to push if he doesn’t want to talk

The last time we went no contact, we both pushed each other away

Roy

That asshole

Y/n

Just be nice when you see him

Roy

I was

But now I should give him shit for what he’s putting you through

Y/n

No don’t

This is nothing compared to whatever Jason is going through

Roy

If I didn’t know better

You already know what’s he going through

Y/n

But I don’t

I just know that it’s bad if he’s not talking to anyone right now

Roy

You really care about him huh?

Y/n

I’m not afraid to admit it

Roy

Good

Jason needs someone like you on his side

I’m glad he has you

You threw your phone on the couch after reading Roy’s message, and bit your thumbnail in thought. Roy’s words had a deeper meaning now then before you knew the whole truth. And wondered if they would hold the same weight after they realized you went behind Jason’s back to find the truth.

It wasn’t something you needed to worry about now. There was something more pressing and you weren’t sure what to do but wait.

Sighing, you stood from the couch and made your way to the kitchen. After eating supper, you retrieved your laptop from your room and set it on the table.

Staring at it for a good minute or two, you made up your mind and turned it out. Once logged in, you went through the motions and found yourself in the Batcomputer again.

There was nothing for you to do but watch and wait. And that’s what you did for the rest of the night, you watched and listened as they talked out plans and watched as Oracle fought against the Calculator.

Scared of being discovered, you were debating whether or not you should leave. But you couldn’t, not until you knew Jason was okay.

But the decision was made for you when Oracle forced both you and Calculator when she rebooted her system. You gave her credit and wondered why she didn’t do that earlier.

With nothing to do, you slumped against your chair and hoped everything turned out in their favour.

“Jason you have a minute?” Roy called as the Outlaws made their way out of the building with Riddler in tow. Jason nodded, and the two of them branched off from their friends.

”What’s up?” Jason asked when they were far enough away from prying ears.

“Have you talked to Y/n lately?” Roy asked, and Jason flinched at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Are they doing okay?” Jason asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Roy shrugged and said he didn’t know. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Exactly that, I don’t know,” he answered, “I just know that they’re really worried about you and wanted you to know that they’re there if you need them.”

“I’ll always need them,” Jason said without a second thought.

“That’s probably something you need to tell them, not me,” Roy said and looked towards their friends. “Look, everything seems to be okay here now. And I doubt Batman needs our help right now.”

“Probably because he’s being a stubborn asshole,” Jason muttered and Roy ignored it with a shake of his head.

“Why don’t you go see Y/N?” Roy suggested, “it would ease their mind a bit.” Jason shook his head at the thought.

“Not yet,” he said, “not until we deal with Joker. The last thing I need or want is for Joker to find Y/N.”

“Fair enough. Then at least answer their texts,” he said, “that’s something you can do without Joker knowing.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Jason said, sighing in defeat.

“I’m always right,” Roy said, gaining a laugh out of his friend.

“Not always,” he said and walked off towards his bike. He pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his messages, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Jason (12:35 am)

You set two things on fire today

One might think you’re a pyromaniac

Y/n (1:09 am)

:O

I am no such thing

i set ONE thing on fire and burnt my eggs

There is a difference

Jason

No I don’t think so

It’s the same thing

Y/n

Well then I guess your seeing a pyromaniac

Jason

I’ve dated worst things

Y/n

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

What could possibly be worse than a pyromaniac?

Jason

A serial killer

Y/n

YOU DATED A SERIAL KILLER?

Jason

Okay, not technically

Y/n

What does that mean?!

Jason

Means she was apart of the league of assassins

And given that their job description is basically their title

It's the same thing

Y/n

I can feel you shrugging like its not a big deal

But it is

And I worry for you and your taste of women

Jason

There’s nothing wrong with my taste in women

Y/n

Says the guy who dated a women who kills for a living

And me, who’s and I’m quoting here

a ‘pyromaniac’

Jason

Nothing wrong with a little arson

Y/n

My goodness

Judging by that statement alone, I think you’re the pyromaniac

Jason

Well, I mean I have done a little arson myself

So I’m not one to judge

Y/n

……

Jason

Wow, six dots

I must really made an impression

Y/n

You’re lucky your pretty

Jason

I knew it

You’re only into me because of my looks

Y/n

-_-

I’m going to bed

Jason

No, no no wait

I went a little to far, I’m sorry

Y/n

You’re forgiven

Can I call you? Or are you too busy for that?

Jason

Not busy persay, just I’m with my friends and I’m not yet ready for you to meet them

Y/n

Afraid I’ll run away?

Jason

Something like that

Sometimes they can be a little too much

And protective

Other then that, I wouldn’t mind hearing your beautiful voice

Y/n

Oof, maybe I should go to bed

I’m red like a tomato

Jason

Sounds like a sight to see

Y/n

I’m sure it is

…

Are you okay?

And don’t just saying something cheesy like

Jason

I’m better now that I’m talking to you

Y/n

You son of a bitch

I told you not to say something like that

Smooth fucker

Jason

But I am telling the truth

Something came up last night that triggered something

I had to leave town for the day, but my friends showed up and we talked.

Roy said something about you being worried

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you

I just, I needed to deal with it before I could see you or talk to you

Y/n

No I get

Probably didn’t help with all my messages

But I’m glad you’re feeling better

Still dealing with it?

Jason

Yeah

But once it’s done, I’ll come and see you

Promise

Y/n

Take your time with it, I don’t mind the wait

I’m just glad you to hear from you

Jason

I’m so glad I met you

Y/n

Me too

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

The Prophecy Chapter 2: Even Statues Crumble

Summary: Aurelia prepares for her wedding to Lucius Verus and marries him to save her own life.

A/N: Thank you for reading this little idea of mine. It literally came to me as I was listening to The Prophecy in the car on the way to work. If you have any requests as to like blurbs or one shots that happen within this universe, please let me know. I also don't do tag lists but, I appreciate the support! Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, forced marriage, talks of death, second guessing, weddings, Geta being an a-hole, use of flashbacks, talking about wanting to die, emotions., and as always, let me know if I missed any.

Flashbacks are labeled as such.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Aurelia’s gaze flitted to the reflection of the gown on the bed, her heart sinking. The fabric seemed to mock her. Every thread, every seam, a reminder of the future she never wanted. She felt suffocated by her obligations��by the weight of what was expected of her. Her father, her mother, the Senate, the people—they had all decided for her. They had all played their parts in crafting her destiny, and now she was nothing more than a pawn in a game of politics.

The door opened behind her with a soft creak, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this—not tonight. Not before the wedding.

Her servant, Flavia, stepped in cautiously, her voice gentle as she spoke. "Your Highness, everything is prepared. The gown... the feast… everything is ready for tomorrow.."

Aurelia stood still for a long moment, her hands gripping the windowsill. The breeze from the open window fluttered her hair around her face, but she didn’t feel the coolness of it. She barely felt anything at all. She was numb.

“Aurelia?” Flavia’s voice was concerned now, soft but insistent.

Aurelia slowly turned toward her, her face unreadable, her eyes tired but defiant. “You were right to be excited for me,” she said bitterly, her words sharper than she intended. "But I’m not." She felt the sting of tears rising in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not cry in front of anyone—not now.

Flavia hesitated, her brow furrowing with worry. “You don’t have to go through with this. You know that, right? You can—”

“No,” Aurelia interrupted sharply, stepping away from the window, her voice suddenly hoarse. “I have no choice. I am to be the Emperor’s wife, whether I want to be or not. It’s this or die.”

Her words cut through the air, thick with the weight of resignation. She hated them. She hated the fact that her life was no longer hers to control. She had no say in who she married, no say in what her future would be. Her marriage to Geta had been forced upon her, too, but at least she had known him, had grown accustomed to his cruelty. This marriage—this union with Lucius Verus—felt like a strange cruelty of its own.

Flavia opened her mouth to protest again, but Aurelia cut her off with a soft, bitter laugh.

“You don’t understand, Flavia,” she whispered, her hands trembling at her sides. “Geta and Caracalla are dead. The empire is in the hands of men who would never think twice about tearing me apart. I am a puppet. A trophy wife. Tomorrow, I’ll stand before the Senate, and they’ll pretend to care, while they all gawk at the new Empress. And Lucius…” She paused, her voice thick with disdain, “He doesn’t want me. He’s just another part of the game. Another ruler who’ll sit beside me in the throne room and we’ll both pretend to love each other.”

Flavia moved closer, placing a gentle hand on Aurelia’s arm. “He’s not like the others, Aurelia. Lucius—he’s different. He was a gladiator. He knows what it means to fight, to survive. He’s not like the men who’ve ruled before.”

Aurelia’s lips trembled at the words. She wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe that Lucius, this gladiator-turned-emperor, was different. That maybe, through some strange twist of fate, he might understand her pain. But the truth was more complicated than that.

She stepped away from Flavia’s touch, pacing slowly toward the edge of the room. Her fingers lightly brushed against the fabric of the wedding gown once more, the weight of it pulling her down. "I don’t want to marry him,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “I don’t want this life. I don’t want any of it."

The words hung in the air, thick with the despair she had not allowed herself to feel until now. There was a part of her, a small, fragile part, that wanted to scream at the heavens. Why me? Why is it always me who has to bear the weight of the empire’s cruelty?

Flavia, sensing the depth of her distress, approached her once more, her voice softer this time, filled with empathy. "You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to. You are strong, Aurelia. You can walk away from this. There are other ways."

Aurelia looked at her, her eyes clouded with pain. “What other ways, Flavia? Do you think the Senate would let me walk away? Do you think I could just... disappear?” Her voice cracked, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, her composure shattered. "I am nothing but a political pawn in their game. If I don't marry Lucius, I’ll be executed. They’ll kill me and then they’ll put someone else on the throne."

Flavia’s heart broke at the words, but she stood still, not knowing how to comfort her. There was no escape, not really. Not for Aurelia. Not for the woman who had already lost everything.

“I have nothing,” Aurelia whispered, her voice hollow. “Nothing left. Nothing to give. Nothing to hope for. This marriage... this wedding... it’s all a lie.” 

Tears filled Aurelia’s eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, turning away from Flavia. “I wish I could die before tomorrow. Just to be free of all of this.”

Flavia’s breath hitched, panic rising in her chest. She grabbed Aurelia by the shoulders, turning her to face her. “Don’t say that, Aurelia. Don’t even think it! You’re strong. You have so much to live for.”

Aurelia pulled away gently, her voice strained and broken. “What do I have to live for? This empire? This crown?” She gestured helplessly to the room, to the gown she would wear tomorrow, to the life that awaited her. “I never asked for any of this. I didn’t want this.”

She sank into a chair, her head buried in her hands as she trembled. Flavia stood helplessly nearby, watching the woman she had served for so long unravel before her eyes.

And for a moment, the silence between them was unbearable, filled only with the weight of unspoken sorrow.

Aurelia’s thoughts were a whirl of darkness and pain but in the quiet, with the wedding gown looming in the distance, she knew—deep down—that she had to keep moving forward, whether she wanted to or not.

It was marriage or death.

For tomorrow, whether she accepted it or not, she would marry Lucius Verus and she would be Empress once more. 

Flashback ~ Before Her Marriage to Geta

The night before her wedding to Emperor Geta, Aurelia lay in her bed, the cool sheets tangled around her legs, but it was the storm in her mind that kept her awake. She stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling, the shadows of the room stretching long and dark, as if the very walls were closing in on her.

She had barely eaten at dinner. She had hardly spoken. The weight of the marriage, of the future that awaited her, hung like a shroud. Tomorrow, she would walk down the aisle in a gown of white and gold, and before the Senate and the people of Rome, she would become Empress Aurelia, the wife of a man she barely knew, a man she had been told to marry to secure her family's place in the empire.

But Aurelia did not want this. Not this life. Not with him. She never wanted the titles or the riches.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, but one was clear: she could not go through with it. She would not. If there was any way to escape, to avoid this fate, she would find it. She had to.

She slipped out of bed, her bare feet cold against the marble floor. She had worn the finest silken gown, but now she felt it like a weight—a symbol of the chains that bound her to this life she had not chosen. Moving quickly, she crept to the door, her heart hammering in her chest. The guards would be outside, she knew. They always were. But what if she could slip past them? What if she could leave the palace unnoticed?

Aurelia moved silently through the darkened corridors, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she pressed herself into the shadows, listening carefully for any signs of movement. The stone walls of the palace seemed oppressive in their silence, like the very architecture was conspiring against her.

She reached the door that led to the garden, the place where she used to play as a child, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like a distant memory. The scent of roses filled the air, the sound of the night insects buzzing faintly in the distance. She stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her skin, and felt a fleeting sense of freedom.

But just as she began to move toward the edge of the gardens, a voice sliced through the silence.

“Aurelia.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She froze. Slowly, she turned to find Marcus Cassius, her father, standing in the shadows, his face unreadable but stern. He had been watching her. Of course he had. The guards would never have let her slip by without reporting it.

“You should be in bed,” he said, his voice soft but firm, like the press of a blade against her throat.

“I—” Aurelia began, but her words faltered. She had no excuse. No lie would work.

She was tired of lying.

“I can’t do this, Father,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t marry him. I can’t marry Geta.”

Marcus took a slow step forward, his face illuminated by the moonlight, and Aurelia saw the flicker of something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or disappointment. It was hard to tell. His features were always so controlled.

“I know this isn’t what you want,” he said, his tone gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something unyielding. “But it is what you must do.”

Aurelia’s chest tightened, her breath coming faster as the weight of his words crushed her. “I don’t care about what I must do!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I care about what I want, what I need. And I need to be free. Free from this. I don’t belong with Geta. I don’t love him. How can you ask me to marry a man I barely know, someone I’ve heard only whispers of? How can you force me into this life?”

Her father’s eyes softened, but the hardness in his face never wavered. “It’s not about love, Aurelia,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “This is about Rome. This is about securing the future of our family. Your marriage to Geta will ensure that we remain in power, that our name remains in the annals of history. You were born to be a part of this.”

Aurelia stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. “I never asked for this. You’ve always made choices for me, Father, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m not some pawn for you to place in a marriage bed just to secure alliances. I want my own life. I want to choose my own path.”

Marcus’s gaze hardened, his jaw tightening. “You’ve never had a choice, Aurelia. You’ve always known that. The empire does not offer choice to women like you. You are a Cassia, and that means you have a duty. Do you think your mother didn’t know this when she married me? Do you think she didn’t understand that duty? That she didn’t make sacrifices for it?”

Aurelia recoiled, her breath catching in her throat. She had never heard her father speak of her mother with such coldness. It was as if the warmth of her mother’s memory—of her kindness and devotion—was gone, swept away by the weight of duty and power.

“I don’t want to be like her,” Aurelia said, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands trembling at her sides. “I don’t want to give up everything for the empire. I don’t want to be controlled.”

Her father’s expression faltered, just for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. “You have no choice. Neither does Geta. The Senate has already approved this marriage. The people will expect it. If you do not comply, there will be consequences for us both.”

Aurelia’s world felt like it was collapsing around her. The walls of the palace, the stone and marble, seemed to close in on her, suffocating her. “I don’t care about their consequences!” she cried, her voice breaking, but even as she said it, she knew she was lying. She cared about the consequences—she cared deeply. A refusal would mean disgrace, dishonor, and ruin for her family. And for herself.

“You must go through with it,” Marcus said quietly, his voice final. “You will meet Geta tomorrow. You will marry him. And you will do it for Rome. For us. For your future.”

Aurelia’s knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the stone bench in the garden, her hands pressing against her face. The tears she had been holding back for so long finally spilled over, and for the first time in years, she felt utterly, completely powerless.

Her father’s gaze lingered on her, but there was no sympathy in it. Only the cold, unyielding expectation of a Roman nobleman.

“You will learn to accept it,” he said quietly, before turning and walking back toward the palace.

Aurelia was left alone, the sound of his footsteps fading as the weight of her reality set in. She could run. She could scream. But she knew, deep down, that there was no escape. Not for her. Not from the life her father had chosen for her.

Aurelia stood in front of the full-length mirror, her reflection hazy in the soft light of the candle-lit chamber. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the silk robe that clung to her skin. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of jewelry being prepared by her attendants. The noise from outside—laughter, music, the murmur of the Senate gathering for the ceremony—seemed distant, almost foreign to her in this moment of solitude.

Her wedding day. It should have been a day of joy, of hope for a future that could be built in the light of love and partnership. But for her, it felt like the closing of a door she had never intended to open.

The door to the chamber opened slowly, and one of her handmaidens entered, holding the delicate wedding gown in her arms. Aurelia’s eyes flickered toward it for a moment before returning to her own reflection. The gown was a brilliant red, trimmed with gold thread, the fabric soft and weightless like a dream. The delicate embroidery along the hem and neckline sparkled faintly in the light—symbols of Rome's glory, of the empire's future that was now her responsibility, and her burden.

"Aurelia?" The handmaid's voice was gentle, tentative, as if unsure whether to interrupt her mistress's thoughts.

Aurelia turned, giving her a tight, thin-lipped smile. "Yes, Flavia?"

"The gown is ready to don, Empress. Shall I help you?" The woman’s gaze was respectful, but there was something else there too—a flicker of sympathy that Aurelia couldn’t bear to acknowledge.

Aurelia swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t want sympathy. She didn’t want pity. She wanted to scream, to break something, to tear off this crown of thorns that Rome had placed on her head. But she did none of that. She simply nodded.

"Yes," she said softly, turning her back to the mirror so Antonia could help her slip out of the robe and into the wedding gown.

The cold air of the room pricked at her skin as she stood there, exposed, while her handmaiden adjusted the dress. The fabric felt like it was suffocating her, the layers of fine silk pressing against her ribs, wrapping around her like a prison. Every movement she made seemed to tighten the knot in her chest, that feeling of being trapped.

“Do you want to wear your crown?” Antonia asked quietly as she fastened the gown with a delicate clasp at the back.

Aurelia’s eyes closed for a moment, the thought of the crown heavy in her mind. It was an ancient piece, crafted with intricate gold filigree and precious stones, a symbol of imperial power. It had once been worn by the great empresses of Rome, and now it would sit atop her head—whether she liked it or not.

But no. Not today.

“Not yet,” Aurelia replied with a sigh, her voice flat. She didn’t need the crown to feel the weight of this marriage. The crown would only serve as a reminder of the chains that now bound her to Lucius.

The handmaiden gave a small nod and moved to prepare the rest of the ensemble. Aurelia looked back at her reflection, her eyes scanning her face, her chestnut brown hair, now expertly arranged in a complicated updo, twisted with strands of gold. The gold accents in her gown glinted, catching the light like cruel promises.

Her heart thudded in her chest. It was not fear that made her body tense, nor anxiety over the marriage itself. It was the overwhelming weight of her own complicity. She was walking into this union with her eyes wide open. She knew what this would mean for her. For her future. For her identity.

"I should be happy," she murmured to herself. "I should be proud."

But she wasn’t.

She wasn’t anything but resigned.

She had spent her life surrounded by men who used their power for their own gain—first Geta, then Father, and now Lucius. Each had taken something from her. Her love. Her trust. Her belief in what a marriage could be. Now, this marriage would be no different. Lucius was no Geta, certainly, but the coldness that resided between them was something that neither of them could escape. He may have been the son of Lucilla, the true heir to the throne, but she knew him only as a gladiator—someone who had fought his way to power, someone who had been shaped by violence and bloodshed.

The door creaked again, and another handmaiden entered, this one carrying the veil that would cover her face. Aurelia stood still as it was gently placed over her head. She let the fabric fall into place, the lace soft against her skin. It was beautiful, but suffocating.

“You look stunning, Empress,” Antonia whispered, as if her words would somehow erase the tension in the room.

Aurelia didn’t respond immediately. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, to pretend for even a moment that this day was anything other than the beginning of something that she had not chosen.

The heavy silence settled between them, the air thick with the weight of her decision. The marriage would proceed. The ceremony would go on. She would stand by Lucius’s side. She would wear the crown, and she would endure.

In a fleeting moment, as the last of the attendants left the room to give her space, Aurelia allowed herself one last thought: Perhaps, somewhere in the depths of her heart, she still longed for a different life. A life where she was not bound by duty, not made to be the symbol of an empire, not forced into a marriage for the sake of political alliances.

But as the clock ticked, the reality of her situation gripped her again, cold and unyielding.

This was not her choice. Not really.

She was an empress and empresses did not have the luxury of choice.

Aurelia stepped toward the door, the faint sound of the wedding procession echoing in the halls of the palace. She walked down the corridors, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors, her breath steady. Her hands, now trembling once more, gripped the edges of her gown. She could feel her heart race. But she kept her face neutral, resolute.

The doors to the grand hall opened, and before her, in the vastness of the room, stood Lucius—waiting for her. The air buzzed with anticipation.

And she, Aurelia, stood at the threshold, ready to step into her new life.

The price of power. The price of survival.

And, most of all, the price of being an empress.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was bathed in golden light, its columns adorned with rich purple tapestries and intricate carvings that had witnessed countless ceremonies of wealth and power. But today, this sacred space seemed to pulse with an air of something darker—something forged by the sword, blood, and vengeance.

Aurelia Carina Cassia stood near the altar, her breath shallow and her body stiff with anger, her eyes dark and haunted as she gazed out over the sea of guests. Senators, generals, and various figures of power from across the Empire filled the space, their murmurs low and expectant. It was meant to be a celebration of Rome’s new era, but for her, it felt like a bitter mockery.

Her heart still ached for Geta, her late husband. Cruel though he had been, she had found a way to love him—a love that had never been returned but existed all the same. Now, the man who had taken his place as Emperor, Lucius Verus, stood in front of her.

Lucius Verus. He was unlike anything she had imagined. A gladiator. A slave. And yet, he bore the blood of the true Imperial line. He was her captor and her future husband, thrust into this role by the whims of power. He had murdered Macrinus, the usurper who had orchestrated the deaths of her first husband and his brother Caracalla, but in his victory, there was no joy—only a quiet fury that matched her own.

He stood tall and commanding, his piercing blue eyes scanning her face with an intensity that unsettled her. He was dressed in the traditional garb of an emperor, but his bearing—the broad shoulders, the ruggedness, the battle-worn look—betrayed his humble origins. He had spent most of his time in Rome now in the blood-soaked sands, fighting for survival, earning his freedom through the same violence that had stolen his childhood.

He was, in a sense, a mirror to her own loss. She, too, had been forced to survive in a world she could never control.

And now they were to be joined in marriage, a union that was born not of love, but of survival.

The officiant, a high-ranking priestess, gestured for them to stand at the center of the room, her voice smooth and practiced as she spoke the traditional words of union. Her gaze flickered between the two, noting the tension in their posture, the unwillingness that clung to them like a dark cloud.

Aurelia’s hands trembled as she reached out to take the hand of her new husband. His palm was rough and calloused, the grip firm but not comforting. She could feel the history of his life in his touch—years of hardship, bloodshed, and struggle. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand in a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it was enough to remind her that despite all that had happened, they were bound by something now. A shared future of power, of control, and of the very Empire that had destroyed their lives.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded, the ceremony continuing in its formalities, yet her mind was far from the words being spoken. She thought of the fateful choice she had been given: marry Lucius Verus or face execution. It was a choice she had made out of necessity, but every fiber of her being screamed in defiance. She had loved Geta, and in that love, she had found a strange semblance of purpose, even if it had been a hollow one. Now, that love had been torn from her, and she was left with a man she neither knew nor cared to know.

Lucius, for his part, said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something that mirrored her own anger. Perhaps it was the knowledge that neither of them had been given the luxury of choice, that their fates had been decided by forces greater than themselves.

The priestess continued with the vows, each word falling like the sound of a hammer on stone. As Lucius Verus spoke his vows, his voice was steady, though there was a quiet intensity beneath it, as if he were speaking not just to Aurelia but to the Empire itself, declaring his authority, his claim to this throne. He had killed Macrinus for the very right to stand where he was now. And she was his symbol of legitimacy, the last link to the imperial bloodline of the old regime.

Her turn came, and for a moment, she hesitated. The weight of what this marriage meant pressed down on her, the reality of her new life settling in. There was no love to offer him. No affection. Just the remnants of a broken loyalty to a man who had never truly loved her.

“I vow,” she said, her voice cold, “to stand by your side, as is my duty. I vow to give you the Empire that you now rule, for what it is worth. But know this, Lucius Verus—there will be no affection, no love between us. Only power. Only ambition.”

For a heartbeat, there was silence. The room held its breath.

Lucius’s blue eyes bored into hers, and for a long moment, she thought he might challenge her words, perhaps even reject her defiance. Instead, he simply nodded, as if he had already anticipated it.

“We will rule together,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering. “There is no room for weakness in Rome.”

And with that, the ceremony was complete.

As they turned to face the assembled guests, the crowd erupted into applause, their faces masks of politeness, their hands clapping with enthusiasm. The new emperor and his empress stood together, united in a marriage that neither had chosen but both were bound by. Aurelia could feel the coldness of her own heart as she stood there beside him, the weight of the imperial crown now heavy on her brow.

Her life, her future, was now irrevocably linked to this man, this gladiator-turned-emperor, whose blue eyes hid more secrets than she would ever be able to unravel. But as they walked down the aisle, side by side, she knew one thing for certain: in the world of power, there could be no true love. Only survival. Only Empire. Only Rome. Only duty.

Flashback ~ The Wedding To Geta

The sun was setting over Rome, casting a soft golden glow over the city that stretched out below the Palatine Hill. Aurelia stood before a tall mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the folds of her wedding dress—a gown of delicate silk and rich embroidery that shimmered in the fading light. The dress, fit for an empress, was crafted from the finest materials, but it felt heavy against her skin. Every stitch, every detail, reminded her of the weight of the day, of the promise she was about to make, and the life she was about to step into.

Her reflection stared back at her, but she barely recognized the woman in the mirror. Gone was the spirited young woman she had been before her marriage was arranged. Gone was the girl who had dreamed of love and adventure. In her place stood a woman bound by duty—her fate sealed by the politics of empire, her future written in the cold, unfeeling hand of power.

Aurelia closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a steadying breath. She would have preferred to wait, to delay this moment, to take time to come to terms with the reality of her marriage. But there was no time. The people expected it. The Senate demanded it. And her father, always the pragmatist, had seen the union as an opportunity for political gain—an alliance that would strengthen the family name.

"Are you ready?" came a voice, breaking her reverie. It was her father, standing in the doorway of her chamber. His expression was unreadable, as it always was, but there was something behind his eyes—a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe guilt. He had done what was necessary. But Aurelia knew it had not been his choice either.

She forced a smile, the kind of smile she had perfected long ago when she was a child trying to please her father. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Her father’s eyes softened for just a moment before he nodded. "You will be Empress. You know what that means, Aurelia. It’s a responsibility to Rome. To the future. Remember all that your mother and I have taught you."

Aurelia nodded, her throat tightening. Her future was already laid out for her, and it was not a future she had chosen. But she had always known that in the Roman world, duty outweighed personal desire. She was a woman of privilege, yes, but she was also a pawn in a game of power and politics.

The doors to the chamber opened, and Aurelia’s attendants entered, guiding her to the grand hall where the wedding would take place. The hall was massive, filled with marble columns and the scent of fresh flowers, the long tables draped in crimson cloths. Guests had already arrived, dressed in their finest to witness the union of the Emperor and the daughter of a noble family. But none of it felt real to Aurelia. It all felt distant, a pageant for the empire’s elite, a performance where she was expected to play her role.

Her heart beat in her chest, faster than it had been moments ago. Not from excitement, but from a deep, gnawing apprehension. This man— Emperor Geta—would be her husband. A man who had already shown her nothing but coldness and indifference. Their marriage, she knew, was not one built on affection or love but on the weight of imperial necessity.

As she entered the hall, she could feel the eyes of the guests on her, their gazes heavy, judging. The high-ranking senators, the nobles of Rome, all gathered to witness the consolidation of power that this marriage represented. But Aurelia’s mind was elsewhere, focused on the figure at the end of the long aisle.

Emperor Geta stood there, his back straight, his expression impassive. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his tunic was rich with gold embroidery, the imperial seal shining brightly on his chest. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met hers briefly as she walked toward him. For a moment, there was a flicker—an almost imperceptible shift in his gaze—but it was gone before Aurelia could understand it.

His presence was like a shadow, looming over her, a reminder of what was to come. He was not cruel—at least, not outwardly—but there was a coldness in him, an emotional distance that made her uneasy. The idea of this man being her husband was foreign, unsettling. And yet, as the ceremony began, she knew there was no turning back.

The high priest stepped forward, his voice solemn as he began the traditional rites. Aurelia’s gaze remained fixed on Geta, but he was unmoved. His lips were set in a firm line, his expression a mask of indifference. He did not seem to care for the ceremony, nor did he seem to care for her.

"Do you, Emperor Geta, take Aurelia Carina Cassia to be your wife, to rule beside you in both marriage and in empire, in joy and in hardship, in life and in death?" the priest asked.

Geta’s voice was low, almost detached. "I do."

Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat. He spoke the words with no passion, no conviction, as though the act was nothing more than a formality to be checked off the list. A formality for the empire.

Then it was her turn.

"Aurelia Carina Cassia," the priest said, turning his gaze to her. "Do you take Emperor Geta, to be your husband, to join with him in marriage, in rule, in life, and in death?"

Her lips parted, but for a long moment, no sound came out. Her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts—fear, doubt, and resignation. She had no choice. There was no turning back. The empire was watching her.

"I do," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

The ceremony continued, the exchange of vows, the binding of rings, the symbolic gestures of unity. But even as the final prayers were spoken and the crowd cheered, Aurelia felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of emptiness. She was a wife, yes, but not in the way she had imagined. She was a wife in name, a wife to a man who would never truly love her.

As the final blessing was given, Geta turned to her, offering her his arm as he led her from the altar. His eyes met hers for a moment, and in the fleeting seconds, Aurelia saw something there—something cold, something distant. But she couldn’t place it. She wasn’t sure if it was pity, disdain, or something else entirely. But it didn’t matter.

They were married now. The empire will have its heirs. The empire had its future.

They walked together, side by side, but it felt as though they were walking in separate worlds, worlds that had collided for the sake of duty, of power, of an empire that demanded much and offered little in return.

As Aurelia took her place at his side, she couldn’t help but wonder what the future would hold for her in this cold, loveless marriage. Would she ever find warmth in his eyes? Or would she forever remain a figure beside him, a silent witness to the empire’s unyielding march?

In the end, she knew one thing for certain: the wedding had been the beginning of a new life, but it had not been the beginning of love.

The grand dining hall of the imperial palace was a breathtaking sight, adorned with lavish tapestries depicting the heroic deeds of the emperor's past. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, honeyed wine, and exotic spices, while gilded chandeliers cast their warm glow over the guests, whose laughter and chatter echoed off the marble walls. The feast had begun in earnest, but for Aurelia, it felt like an insufferable pageantry, an endless display of opulence that was as hollow as her own heart.

The high table, where she and Lucius Verus now sat side by side, was elevated above the sea of guests, an uncomfortable reminder of the power that now bound them together. At one end of the table sat the new Emperor of Rome, his piercing blue eyes cold and distant, as if he were already surveying the entire Empire with an authority that didn’t need to be spoken. At the other end, Aurelia sat stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap beneath the rich folds of her gown, unable to fully appreciate the luxury that surrounded her. She had been made Empress again, yes, but it was a title that seemed to mock her more than anything else. She had no love for Lucius Verus—her husband only in name—yet here she was, forced to play the part, to smile and pretend that this was all as it should be.

Her gown shimmered beneath the flickering candlelight. It was the color of Rome’s old blood—the blood of emperors, of gladiators, and of countless men and women who had fought for survival. She hated the irony of it all.

Lucius, for his part, barely spoke. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable. He lifted his goblet of wine to his lips and took a long drink, his eyes briefly meeting hers, but only for a second. The tension between them was palpable, like an invisible thread pulling them further apart with every passing moment.

The servants moved around the table with practiced efficiency, placing golden platters of roasted boar, venison, and lamb, their skins crackling with crisp fat, alongside bowls of fresh fruits—pomegranates, figs, and clusters of grapes—and loaves of freshly baked bread. An assortment of cheeses and honeyed pastries were brought in, and the scent of wine—sweet, tart, and heady—filled the air. Flutists played softly in the background, and a troupe of dancers from the East began a slow, sensuous dance, their silks flowing as they moved in perfect harmony with the music.

But despite the abundance of food and drink, despite the spectacle unfolding before her, Aurelia could not enjoy a single moment. Her mind swam with bitter thoughts: memories of Geta, the brutal coldness of his reign, his violence—yet, within that cruelty, she had found something to hold on to, something that had made him hers, even if only in the darkest corners of her heart.

She was brought back to the present by a low voice beside her.

"Not hungry?" Lucius Verus’s voice was quieter than before, his words heavy with something unreadable. It was not a question of concern, but one of curiosity, or perhaps challenge.

Aurelia turned toward him, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were sharp and intent, as though he were studying her, as though she were the next opponent to be defeated in his personal arena.

"I’m not hungry," she replied, her voice cool, and for a moment, their eyes locked, the silence between them thick and heavy.

Lucius’s lips tightened, though it wasn’t in anger. It was more a quiet acknowledgment of the tension between them. He turned his gaze back to the feast and picked up a roasted fig, placing it delicately in his mouth. There was something almost calculated about his movements, as if every action were part of a larger strategy.

Around them, the feast continued with laughter and revelry. A senator cracked a joke, a group of soldiers clinked their goblets together in a celebratory toast, and a young noblewoman tried to engage Lucius in conversation about the new laws he would enact. Yet, despite the outward merriment, there was an underlying current of unease. The guests were not so naïve as to ignore the strange and uneasy marriage that had just been sealed in the hall behind them.

Lucius shifted slightly in his seat, as though feeling the weight of the eyes that turned toward him.

"You don’t have to pretend," he said, breaking the silence again, his voice low and almost resigned. "I know why you’re here. You don’t have to like it."

Aurelia’s lips tightened at his words, but there was no anger in them. It was merely truth, blunt and direct, as always. She looked down at her hands, unwilling to meet his gaze again.

"I don’t pretend," she replied softly, though she knew the truth of her own hypocrisy. She was pretending, of course. Pretending that she didn’t care. Pretending that this was all something she could endure.

"Then why sit through this?" Lucius asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why endure this charade?"

Aurelia raised her eyes to his once more, meeting his gaze squarely. For a moment, she wanted to say because it’s all I have left, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she said only, “Because I have no choice, just as you have no choice.”

For a heartbeat, Lucius said nothing. He stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time—truly seeing her. His gaze was piercing, intense, yet something flickered in those deep blue eyes. Perhaps it was understanding, perhaps it was something more, but Aurelia could not bring herself to interpret it.

A loud cheer broke the silence, and Aurelia turned toward the noise. The guests were raising their cups in a toast, celebrating the new Emperor and Empress, raising their voices in the name of Roman glory. It was an exultant sound, but it grated on her nerves, like the clanging of swords against stone.

"To Lucius Verus, Emperor of Rome!" a voice cried from the crowd.

"And to Aurelia Carina Cassia, Empress of Rome!" another echoed.

The room erupted in applause, and for a moment, the noise drowned out everything else. Aurelia didn’t raise her glass. Instead, she simply sat there, her hands folded in her lap, her thoughts swirling in dark circles.

Lucius raised his goblet, the flickering light from the candles catching in the deep blue of his eyes, but he did not look at her when he spoke.

"To Rome," he said simply, his voice carrying authority that silenced even the loudest of voices.

The crowd echoed his words, and for the briefest of moments, Aurelia felt the weight of the empire—its triumphs, its cruelties, and its endless hunger for power. It was the weight she had inherited, and it was a weight that would forever bind her to Lucius Verus.

For better or for worse, she was now his. And he was hers.

The feast continued around them, but for both of them, it had already ended. 

The grand banquet hall was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets, but amid the festivity, there was a tension that seemed to weave itself into the very air. The feast had stretched on for hours, but now the guests were beginning to murmur in anticipation as the next part of the evening approached. The moment that every wedding in Rome demanded—the first dance.

Aurelia Carina Cassia stood frozen at the edge of the hall, her gown heavy around her, the rich crimson fabric swishing as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel the weight of every eye in the room, the glances that flicked between her and Lucius Verus, the new Emperor of Rome, her husband by forced choice. He was already standing at the center of the room, his posture perfect, his jaw set in that all-too-familiar way of someone who had long since learned to suppress any sign of weakness.

They were supposed to dance. They were supposed to take the center of the room and spin in graceful circles, the crowd watching and applauding as if this were a storybook wedding. But Aurelia didn’t feel like a princess or a queen. She felt like a prisoner.

Her eyes flicked nervously to the musicians at the far end of the room, their instruments ready, their gazes expectant. They were waiting for her to take the first step, to move toward Lucius and begin the ritual. Her chest tightened with the weight of it. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. Not when every inch of her body wanted to scream in defiance.

Lucius turned toward her, his gaze cool but unreadable, like a glacier that had been worn smooth by the passage of time. He was not nervous. Of course, he wasn’t. A gladiator, a warrior forged in blood, who had danced with death more times than he could count. What was a simple waltz to a man who had survived arenas and emperors’ plots?

"You’re stalling," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the growing hum of the room.

Aurelia didn’t respond immediately. She couldn’t. She simply stared at him, that same gnawing bitterness rising within her. She was trapped, caught in the unrelenting gears of this machine—this Empire, this marriage. And there was nothing she could do to escape it.

His eyes softened just the slightest bit, but it wasn’t with warmth. It was a recognition of the struggle she was facing, though he would never voice it aloud. Lucius knew what it was to be trapped in chains, though his were made of blood and iron, not silk and ceremony.

When he spoke again, his words were measured, as though he were giving her a final choice.

"You don’t have to like it. But we have to do this, for Rome." His words weren’t a command; they were simply a fact, one that neither of them could escape.

Aurelia took a sharp breath and glanced back at the crowd. She could feel their eyes on her, the heat of their stares burning into her skin. They were waiting for their Empress to play her part, to show the world that Rome was strong, unified under the rule of its new Emperor. She had no choice. She could feel the weight of it in the pit of her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back, trying to summon whatever dignity she had left, and began to walk toward Lucius. Each step felt like an eternity. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor, the sound strangely amplified in the stillness that had fallen over the room. Lucius didn’t move, didn’t step forward to meet her. He simply waited, his posture as commanding as ever.

When she reached him, there was a brief, uncomfortable pause. He regarded her with those piercing blue eyes, his expression unreadable. Aurelia wanted to say something—anything—to break the silence. To tell him that she would never be the obedient bride he expected her to be. But instead, she lifted her chin, her jaw set in defiance, and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering him the coldest, most formal smile she could muster.

Lucius’s hand slid around her waist, the touch firm but not intimate. It was a touch that spoke of duty, not desire. He began to guide her into the first slow steps of the dance, his movements practiced and smooth, as though he had done this a thousand times before. Aurelia resisted the instinct to pull away, to lash out, but it was harder than she anticipated.

The music swirled around them, the sounds of the flutes and strings filling the room with a kind of ethereal, haunting beauty. The guests began to murmur, some of them leaning in to catch a glimpse of their new rulers, while others smiled and whispered praises. Aurelia could feel their eyes, their judgments, and it made her skin crawl. This was their moment, a moment they had all been waiting for.

Lucius’s grip tightened just slightly around her waist as they moved in time with the music. The movement was mechanical, almost rehearsed. She could feel the tension between them—an invisible barrier neither of them had the will or the desire to cross. Neither of them spoke. The only sound between them was the soft rustle of her gown as they moved in an intricate, slow circle.

Aurelia’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the dance itself that bothered her—it was the feeling of being so close to him, so exposed. His scent, sharp and masculine, filled her senses, and she had to fight not to recoil. The proximity, the enforced intimacy, made her stomach churn.

Lucius seemed to sense her discomfort, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he gave a small, barely perceptible nod, as though acknowledging the weight of the situation. Aurelia couldn’t tell if it was sympathy, amusement, or something else entirely.

The music shifted, becoming faster, more energetic, but still they danced—two figures moving through the motions, a king and queen of an empire built on blood, sweat, and lies. Their feet moved in perfect time, yet there was a palpable distance between them, a gulf that no amount of waltzing could bridge. It wasn’t the graceful, romantic affair the guests had expected. It was a dance of survival. A dance of power.

Aurelia’s mind raced with thoughts of the life she had lost, the man she had loved, and the empire that had torn it all apart. She fought the urge to pull away from Lucius, but there was no escaping this moment. They were bound by more than the silk of her gown or the glittering jewels in her hair. They were bound by the expectations of Rome, by the empire that had demanded this union, this performance.

And so they danced. Neither of them truly present, both lost in the performance. And the crowd watched, applauded, and whispered their approval, as the two of them continued the endless charade that had begun with a marriage forged in blood.

When the dance finally ended, and the last notes of the music drifted into silence, Aurelia was left breathless. Her chest rose and fell with the exertion of holding herself together, and she quickly stepped back, her hand falling from his shoulder. The applause was polite, distant, but it was nothing compared to the silence between them now.

Lucius’s eyes met hers for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. His lips parted as though he might say something, but then he simply nodded.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet, though the words seemed hollow to her ears.

Aurelia didn’t answer. She simply gave him a stiff nod in return, the weight of the crown upon her head heavier than ever before.

Then, she turned and walked away, the crowd parting for her like water parting for a stone, their whispers now louder, more insistent but she didn’t care. All that mattered now was the emptiness she felt inside and the weight of the empire that bound her to a man she would never love.

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 24 - CHRISTMAS PARTY

Pairing : Judge Turpin x OC Colonel Brandon x OC Sinclair Bryant x OC

Summary : It's the eve of Christmas for three generations of a same lineage.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Someone hates Christmas.

A/N : Thank you to @deepperplexity for hosting Rickmas but also for her kindness and for her talent ! It's always a pleasure to read you ! And I had so much fun challenging me for this Rickmas and it gave me the motivation to coming back to my own personal writing and for that even more thank you !!!

And Merry Christmas to you all dear reader, I wish you all the best.

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Richard hated Christmas. It was no surprise to you who had learned it in your first year of marriage. It was not really a problem for you not to celebrate Christmas, in your family, you did not have the means to do such a foolish thing.

Indeed, before your marriage to the High Judge of London, Lord Richard Turpin, you were nothing more than a burden on your poor family. Not that your parents had ever made you feel like one, but you were growing old without finding shoes that fit you, which had ended up alarming them. What is a woman if she is not married ?

And who would marry you if you were nothing more than an old maid who had lost her freshness ?

Judge Turpin, obviously.

You had been afraid at first, but you also knew that refusing would be foolish. You were past the age of being able to wait for your soulmate and when your father died, you would have ended up at best in a hospice, at worst on the streets of London. So you had accepted Richard's proposal reluctantly, worried about the trap you had closed on yourself of your own accord.

The wedding had taken place quickly and you had resigned yourself to being locked in a golden cage and to giving him the heirs he needed, because you were not naive, you knew that was the only reason why he had rushed the marriage with a complete stranger.

Except that night, he didn't touch you. Nor the following ones. After your wedding, when he had brought you back to the manor and shown you the room where you would sleep, he had gone out, leaving room for a maid who had helped you change. She had told you that Richard would come back later because it was his room and you had shivered with fear, except that when he returned, he had chastely kissed you on the forehead before ordering you to go to bed.

You had obeyed, expecting him to exercise his right as a husband, but he had said in a cold voice :

"You will be mine, but not by force. You will be because you want to be," and he had blown out the candle.

You still remember thinking that you would never be his, except that you already were, by law. And later, it was your heart that would decide that he wanted to be entirely hers.

Two years later, you gave birth to your first child, a son, an heir. A difficult pregnancy, a delivery that had almost left you for dead, but you had survived to the greatest relief of Richard who could never have imagined continuing to live without you. That night, as he forced you to eat a few mouthfuls of broth to regain your strength, he had confessed to you that he didn't know how he had managed to live until now before you.

When five years later, you were pregnant again, against all expectations given your advanced age for a lady but also because of the scars left by your previous pregnancy, Richard had made sure that nothing could happen to you. You couldn't even get up to go pee without being followed by the old governess who reported all your nonsense to him like a zealous employee... except that you knew that she did it mainly because of the maternal love she had for your husband and that she had become very attached to you, the woman who had managed to make the merciless judge of London human.

Richard and you complemented each other perfectly; he was the authority and you were the gentleness. He punished, you comforted and waited for him to leave for work to lift the punishments.

If only Christmas didn't exist. 

Except that after the birth of your first child, you had insisted on an intimate Christmas at the manor. Just the two of you and your son and later your daughter. And Richard, giddy with the love he felt for you, had agreed. But he still hated this holiday as much and never let himself get caught up in it, even if he tried to hide it more or less skilfully for the sake of his children.

"Woman, I swear that if you add one more garland, you will sleep in another room," he growled when he saw you decorating the banister.

"Well that's not what the manor lacks," you replied without looking up.

He rolled his eyes, mumbling something that sounded like "Ah ! women," when your little girl came running to throw herself into his arms.

He bit his tongue to keep from reprimanding her for running like a wild girl through the corridors of the manor. She was only six, much more impetuous than her brother, unimpressed by her illustrious father and showing him a love as overflowing as yours that always melted him, even if he was careful not to show it.

"Father, I want you to teach us a Christmas carol," she demanded enthusiastically.

Richard's gaze darkened. You gave him a warning look. If you were used to walking on eggshells when it came to Christmas, it was harder for children who didn't understand their father's aversion to this holiday.

You, of course, knew. His painful childhood, those holidays locked in his room while his parents feasted with their prestigious guests, the laughter that echoed while he opened the only gift he never received at that time, the one from his governess.

"I don't know any Christmas carols," he said, trying to control his tone.

"But you're old, you should know plenty," your daughter answered with the candour of a child her age.

"My dear, you should ask your brother. He would love to teach you the ones he knows," you intervened so as not to make Richard more uncomfortable than he already was.

Fortunately, your daughter was not a child who was too difficult to convince, and she went in search of her big brother who would have to sacrifice his game with his toy soldiers.

"That's why I didn't want us to celebrate Christmas in my mansion," he grumbled.

You went down the few steps that separated you from him to come and snuggle against his chest.

"Richard, we can't deprive children of Christmas," you said softly.

"And why not ?"

"Because we love them ?" you suggested with a smile.

"I can love them without Christmas. I would love them just as much without this damn Christmas, because they are yours, silly !"

"Well, since you love me so much, make an effort because it makes me happy to offer a little magic to children. I never had the right to it when I was little. I know you don't either, but if you would agree, just for once, to leave the past behind you and focus on what you have now, you could maybe enjoy this holiday."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing, just kissing the top of your head, undoing a strand of hair from your bun with his finger to let it fall down your shoulder.

"You're lucky I love you," he said with a sigh.

"No, you're the lucky one," you replied before going back to decorating the banister.

He would never admit it, but he knew he was the luckiest man to have met you.

"Richard," you called out to him.

He looked up at you, one eyebrow raised in question.

"You know, you've been led to believe that Christmas is just a frivolity, but the truth is, it's a family holiday. And we're here, all together. That's all that matters."

He pondered your words as you made your way upstairs. Shouts could be heard from the playroom and you assumed that the pretend war with the toy soldiers had become a real war between the siblings.

"Tell them that if I have to intervene, Christmas is called off," Richard said behind you.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. Christmas was in two days and you weren't going to let your grumpy husband cancel it, and even the children knew that.

"Father, father !" his two children shouted in unison as they entered his office.

It was Christmas Eve, the only day when the children were allowed to stay up until midnight, but it was only nine in the morning and Richard could tell it was going to be a long day. He should have canceled Christmas yesterday, when they had given him the chance by bickering like paupers from the slums of London.

"Stop yelling like seagulls," he said angrily, "and what's the use of me hiring the most expensive and famous tutors if they can't teach you how to knock on a door ?" he added, looking at them sternly.

"Excuse me, father," they said in unison.

"Why all the fuss ?" he asked, inviting them to come and sit on his lap.

They didn't need to be asked twice to join him.

"Look what mother gave us ?" your son said, showing him an old account book.

"Can you read it to us tonight, father ?" your daughter asked, giving him her doe-eyed look.

He was about to answer that he didn't read that kind of book, but he stopped himself just in time. Your words the night before had kept him busy for a long part of the night, and he was determined to make an effort. For them. For you.

"Very well, but only if you finish your plates without protesting tonight and if I don't hear you arguing. You are brother and sister, behave as such, not like animals in a circus. Understood ?"

They nodded, kissing him each in turn on the cheek before returning to their games. Meanwhile, Richard, alone in his office, watched London stretch out before him with a smile on his lips.

That evening, he participated awkwardly, but sincerely in the party. He even surprised himself by enjoying himself, especially when the children presented you with a Christmas play that they had rehearsed since a story you had told them at the beginning of the month.

When it was almost midnight, Richard had an arm around the children who had fallen asleep against him on the sofa listening to him read the Christmas story, and another around you who was dozing, his head resting on his chest.

"You were right," he whispered so as not to wake them.

"I know," you answered, raising your head to look at him, "about what ?" you asked anyway.

He let out a rare laugh before kissing you tenderly.

"That if I focused on the present, I could enjoy this holiday.

You kissed him back, radiant.

"You see, it's not too late to create new memories for yourself. Happy memories."

"You're the one who makes me happy. And them," he said, looking down at your children.

You rested your head against his chest, your hand caressing your daughter and son's heads affectionately. It had taken Richard Turpin a while, but he had come to understand how much the family he had built with you was essential to him and that it was what made Christmas magical.

Christopher Brandon loved Christmas. Even more so since you were married and you had made him the father of five beautiful children. Three sons and two daughters who had inherited your sweet face and noble character, except for your eldest who looked exactly like his father, but who had your natural curiosity.

For Christopher, Christmas was the warmest holiday of the year. You and the children were by his side, and if he didn't organize any special parties at the Delaford and he didn't accept any invitations to spend this time with you, his domain was always filled with joy and laughter.

On this December 24th, the house was beautifully decorated thanks to you. The big tree in the living room added a little more warmth to your family celebration and the children were having fun by the fire. Your eldest son was playing the piano while your youngest daughter accompanied him by singing a Christmas carol that Christopher had taught him earlier in the day.

Your second son was looking out the window praying that it would start snowing, he who dreamed of a white Christmas to have snowball fights with his brothers and sisters and snowmen with his father.

Christopher was looking at them with affection, but he had this little smile, imperceptible to anyone else, but not to you. He was preparing something, you were sure of it. However, no matter how much you had pestered him all day to know what it was, he had refused to answer you.

"Dad, can we open the presents ?" your youngest son asked him. "Oh, yes," your daughters chimed in.

"In an hour, after dessert," you replied with a soft smile.

"And here I thought you were eager to see what I was preparing," Christopher teased you.

You gently punched him on the shoulder, but with a nimble gesture, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips.

"Don't set a bad example for the children," he told you with a smile.

You rolled your eyes, returning his big smile.

Finally, at the children's insistence, you agreed to let them open their presents at the same time as dessert was served. Their smiles, their laughter filled you and Christopher with joy. He then got up and left the large living room under your surprised gaze to come back with a small package in his hands.

At least you thought it was a package, but when he approached, you saw fur. Fur fluttering.

"Dad ! You brought us a dog !" your youngest daughter exclaimed.

Your five children rushed over to him and your eldest took the little ball of fur in his arms to pet it to the youngest while warning them to be gentle. You couldn't help but notice how much he looked like his father.

"So that's what you were hiding," you said with a smile as you sat back down on the couch, the children at your feet playing with their new friend.

"They've been asking for years for a dog that wouldn't be used for guarding or hunting, but just to keep them company. John's dog had puppies and he kept this one for me," he said with a soft smile as he watched the young puppy shyly move into his new surroundings.

"What's his name ?" your eldest daughter asked as she turned to you, her auburn curls dancing around her head.

"It's up to you," Christopher replied.

That was all it took for the kids to get into a heated discussion over the dog's name.

"And to think we almost had a quiet evening," you said, feigning exasperation.

"Oh, but this was all part of my plan, Mrs. Brandon."

"What plan ?" you asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"We've got an hour, while they argue, make up, and decide on a name. Enough time for me to give you your present."

He stood up, holding out his hand to you with a mischievous glint in his eye, and you knew that didn't meanonly one thing: the library books would witness your antics again.

"Your ancestors are so funny," you said, closing the diary of Colonel Brandon's wife.

Sinclair turned to you with a smile, Richard Turpin's diary in his hands.

"This one belonged to my great-great-great grandfather, the High Judge of London."

"Do you think it's as interesting as your great-great-great grandmother's ?"

"Oh yes," he said with a big smile, "it's more... juicy."

"Juicy ?"

"She was rather reserved about everything to do with sex, but he goes into detail and believe me, she wasn't shy in bed at all !"

"Sinclair ! You're talking about your ancestors," you gently scolded him.

"But it's true !" he defended himself.

What had started as a search for a Christmas book in Sinclair's vast library had turned into a dive into memories from another time. You had found Colonel Brandon's journal by chance, the one that chronicled a time before his wife, in the army and Sinclair had then decided to share with you the intimate lives of all his ancestors, although he could not go back further than Christopher Brandon.

"What a treasure to have preserved all his memories," you said as he pulled another notebook from a chest.

"Lionel had Brandon's," he said, mentioning his rich and eccentric cousin, "but he didn't find them very interesting so he gave them to me. I never told him what Richard's contained, he would have been dying to have my hands on them and read the craziest positions he made his wife take," he said nonchalantly.

"Sinclair !" 

"Oh, don't be such a prude. You're shy in public too, but when we're in bed..."

"Sinclair Bryant ! I swear if you write that in a diary I'll kill you !"

He laughed as he pulled you against him.

"It would be for prosperity," he whispered in your ear.

"Our child could find it."

He pulled away, his eyes wide as you clapped your hand over your mouth.

"Our child ?" he repeated, looking at you intensely.

You lowered your head, guilty. You'd known for three days, but you wanted to wait until Christmas struck twelve to tell him. But you weren't far from four after all.

"You're going to be a father, Sinclair," you said, placing your hands on his chest.

"I... Me ?"

"Yes, you big idiot," you replied, tapping him gently on the shoulder, "who else do you want it to be ?"

"How long have you known ?"

"Three days, I wanted to surprise you, as a Christmas present."

He shook his head, closing his eyes. After his divorce, he thought he could never be happy again. Then, he had met you one evening when your train was stopped in the middle of the tracks because a tree had fallen due to the storm that was raging that day. He was coming back from Manchester where he had to go for his job, you were coming back after yet another job interview for a job as a teacher. A new refusal that had depressed you more than usual. He had seen your big wet eyes, but also the strength with which you fought not to let any tears fall. You started talking, he made you laugh, he appreciated your simplicity and he thought that maybe that was what he needed: someone simple who knew how to appreciate the little things in life.

You had parted ways that night without knowing that fate had decided that you could never live without each other again. You had crossed paths several times, Sinclair had helped you get a job thanks to his many contacts, he had invited you to eat with him several times, introduced you to his parents - and to his great relief, his mother had immediately liked you unlike the demonic bitch who had broken his heart -, you had introduced him to your parents, and finally, one summer afternoon, in a gondola in Venice, he had proposed to you.

And today, you were going to make him a father.

"So, you're not so disappointed anymore about missing Lionel's big Christmas party, right ?" you said, smiling. 

The doctor had warned you that the pregnancy could be complicated and that you should stay calm. Your bad cough had arrived just in time to find an excuse not to attend the party without having to confess the real reason to your husband.

"Maybe it'll be twins," Sinclair said, placing his hand on your stomach.

"I'd have enough on my plate with two Bryant," you joked.

Except that once again, Sinclair's skills as a forecaster had not been wrong. Eight months later, his mother and his aunt would no longer be the only twins in the family. Now there would be two beautiful little boys as curious as their father and gentler than their mother. But you didn't know that yet. It was for later, far long after this Christmas Party.

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 3: The Quest (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: ...Yes, this story is now, OFFICIALLY, canon divergent. Ya know, because I don't condone/endorse violence against children, and any other disclaimers I need to put here.

Also, there are three literal episodes left, so pardon me if I'm still holding out for Jod and Neel eventually twinning in their clothing choices in canon. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Title: The Quest

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence.

Word Count: 1,698 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: As I'm not yet sure how I even begin to breach the topic of child abuse here...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'. Thank you.

No Pressure Tags:

@chenoa-devyn-blog @not-approvedtrash @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @papa-poutine

@xbeyondthegatex @bridge-always @loverdjudeforever @kucharka23 @khaleesihavilliard

@xitlalli2001 @braveincafleet @amawu23 @gun-roswell @bruceewayne

@shirley-girly @cloudofpinkicecream @lokigirlszendaya @valdasha @aemondvelaryon

@carry-on-wayward-daughter @pantasticalcat @robin-hyperfixates @down-down-by-the-river @sydneyann623

@brookeandherfandoms @kazunish @redermraven @ladyofthelakee @nightlordsvengence

@tarboo13 and anybody else who wonders what romance would look like for this hot mess of a man. :D

I’m a person who needs your help…

As of ten seconds ago, every other thought that had once been safe inside your mind feels as though they’ve all flown away, and so not left much else behind them save for one of the few thoughts that remains.

You’re officially involved.

There’s no other way around it now, because you’re feeling it too deep in your consciousness to turn back. You’re involved in this stranger’s case, and it’s going to take nothing less than a little Reclamation of your own to knock you off this path, and—despite all of your previous attempts to calm down, there’s some of the old adrenaline starting to course back into your body.

My help…? What kind of help do you need?

This rush makes you just a tiny bit lightheaded as you wait for Jack’s response, not knowing if he’s about to try and sweet-talk you into arranging a jailbreak or not. That was THE one thing that the Reclamation Committee had been worried about, and so, even if he let loose with a mountain of ‘Sweethearts’, odds already were that you would have to turn him down due to your ingrained obedience to the Law.

The same Law that, unfortunately, has spirited him out of your reach and out of your sight.

Something that I doubt my jailers want anything to do with.

And why is that?

They’re the ones who just robbed me.

Not that you’ll necessarily have to, maybe, because he hasn’t brought it up yet…but then again, he could always try to trick you up by slipping some kind of missing key or lockpick into the mix. Judging by how the security droids were more than happy to keep their weapons trained upon him, anything is possible here.

I’m sorry.

No need to apologize to me, sweetheart. You’re not the one who did this.

But I am the one you want to help fix it...right?

That depends. How good are you at finding lost things?

That’s one thought you have to keep fresh and safe inside your mind no matter what, along with eventually refusing him in that sense if it should happen.

In the meantime, though, you’re adding a second page to this new file of yours, as you have a slight feeling that you might certainly need it later.

Well…I once found my best friend’s missing keychain back in school.

That must have been a while ago, though. What about recently?

That depends on where you’re going with this. What’s so important that you need my assistance?

Fine. They took all my belongings away before they locked me up. Happy now?

Another thought that you’re unfortunately blessed with, though, is the image of Crimson Jack being attacked by two prison droids. The first never thinks twice about administering a few short electric shocks; the second strips him clean of any and all weapons or tools; and then finally, both of them turn and tilt their heads to each other in a gesture of smug triumph.

More like slightly flustered, but thank you—

—‘Flustered’?

It’s what happens when a person’s annoyed, confused, or both. Continue.

All right…

This is one thought you don’t want to fixate on too strongly, because you already have a feeling that you might end up worrying yourself sick if you don’t pull yourself together first. No, it’ll be better for the both of you if you have work like this to focus on instead, and for this reason, you add a third page.

…First item, a blaster pistol of my own making, about twenty-five years old with a slim wooden handle. Second item—

—Wait, what’s a blaster?

You’ve never seen a blaster before?

I’ve never seen a war before. Care to describe it?

There’s a small pause between writing, almost as though he’s stopping to think or else let out a sigh of frustration—then your next set of directions comes.

All right, look. I don’t want to take all day, and I’m guessing you have plans, so let’s keep it simple. Put your hand flat out in front of you.

As for you, you’re left raising both eyebrows before doing as you’re asked, though not without feeling just a little bit silly.

Now, take the last two fingers on whatever hand you’ve picked, and curl them in towards you.

Another curious direction, to be sure…yet you obey that one as well.

And finally, once you’re ready, raise your remaining three fingers up and act like you’re shooting the wall.

Once you’ve fully caught on to this particular mental image, however, that’s when you almost drop your writing equipment out of shock.

…Heck.

Nasty thing, isn’t it?

Wow, you think?!

Try spending twenty years with one of those aimed at you, and you’ll get what war is.

Whatever you say, CJ…

You let out an annoyed huff of your own before adding a fourth page to your document, somewhat feeling as though you might cut this conversation off if it gets too—well, wild. As someone who still knows precious little about the one you’re writing to, you certainly count this idea as a possibility.

…Any other weapons I need to know about?

‘CJ’?

Those are your initials, silly. Think of it like a nickname if that’s easier.

Hm…

Another small pause. He seems to be taking his time figuring out what to make of you as well, or so the slow pacing of this ‘meeting’ suggests to you.

…Anyways. As I was saying, second item, fairly unused Lightsaber as I prefer the blaster.

I suppose that's like a knife?

If you want to make comparisons, yes. It's got a thin, metallic hilt and so far, it's powered by a green colored stone somewhere in there.

Right...thin hilt, green stone. What else?

Brown jacket with gray stripes on the sleeves and collar. That’s the third item I’m missing.

And the fourth?

It’s sewn inside the third. In fact, if you have a chance, I’d prefer to recover both of them before we find the others.

So it’s all a big mystery for you to solve, then. Some off-the-wall version of the Great Party Icebreaker to endear you to The New Guy In The Office, provided as always that you don’t end up contracting Foot-In-Your-Mouth Disease.

Ah, well...your nights at home, totally alone, were getting a little boring anyway.

Very good...so you’re in a holding cell right now, I assume?

Obviously.

What are you being charged with?

A fifth page. Gods, this file’s getting a little big, or so you’re all too happy to tell yourself as nobody else can see the awkward look on your face right now.

Nobody’s bothered to tell me.

Have you been provided any legal counsel?

What’s that?

And yet, as awkward as all of this feels, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you. Work that involves making sure that any possible trial moves forward without a hitch, because with a suspect as high-profile as this one, there’s no way anybody will want to risk the case being thrown out.

A pity they don’t make Lawyer Droids for this exact purpose.

Nevertheless, with the three words ‘MUST. FIND. LEGAL COUNSEL.’ written on the imaginary wall in your mind, you’re still pushing yourself onward just a bit further, as you’re more or less feeling that you’re too far in to turn back now.

Okay...just a few more things before we wrap things up here.

Go on.

Firstly...why me? And—and what was it that happened out there on the landing pad?

A third pause. He’s either taking his time finding the right words to answer you with, or else to cook up a pretty plausible lie with which to keep you occupied. Strange how the one seems so much like the other, at least at this moment in time.

I...don’t really know for sure.

‘Don’t know’? You don’t know if you have some special talent, or you don’t know why your special talent reacted the way it did?

Both. Neither. It’s as crazy to me as it is to you.

Fine…

You’ll be sure to find out what’s really taking place here, though, if there’s any way to get in touch with the people—or droids—who took him into custody. You might also try poking around the local library later this week, if there’s any chance at all that there might be some hint of your new life situation to read up on.

As for how the little crew he traveled with might figure into this, a fact that you’re far too keen to forget about even as you add a sixth page to this file—

And the last thing you wanted to ask me?

Simple…do your traveling companions know where you are?

—You’re working on it. Maybe you’ll have to get parental consent before questioning them. Maybe they’ll instead show up on your doorstep one day, hands full of dataries and voices full of pleading, totally ready to cooperate and compensate you for your time in one go. Either way, they’re witnesses.

When it comes to whether or not Crimson Jack himself will help his case or harm it, well...that concept just isn’t as clear. In fact, he very nearly confuses you with no pauses, awkward silences, or hesitations of any kind.

Just a slowly written No, almost as though just thinking about this part is too painful.

As for you, you can still remember how scared those kids were at the mere thought of him being harmed by the security droids...so it’s more than just a little bit understandable. Whatever else happened up there, whatever blaster fights, lightsaber duels, or anything else that this group saw...they must have had some time to bond.

But you’d like to see them, right?

YES.

Good. I won’t waste any time if I can help it, but I will need you to give me something in return first.

And that is…?

Your true name.

And if you have any grasp upon this stranger’s character, which you hope very much that you do—that bond just might be the key to saving old Crimson Jack’s life.

TO BE CONTINUED

[kptssecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @dr-lemurr!

Merry Christmas drlemurr! I love all the beautiful art you contribute to the fandom I hope you enjoy your gift <333

Ship: KimChay

Tags: Fluff, Boys in Skirts, Established Relationship, Gender Exploration, Being Walked in On

*****

A Reason To Be Pretty

Kim's meeting with his manager ended a lot earlier than expected. Kim used to want to drag out meetings and schedules so he could be Wik for longer, but now he has a beautiful boy waiting in his apartment for him to scoop up and kiss and cuddle so he had no problem leaving his manager's office half an hour early.

Kim opened their apartment door and walked in expecting Chay to leap up and greet him from the couch where he spends all his time studying and playing video games, but there was no Chay in sight. Kim walked around the house but couldn't find his boyfriend anywhere, maybe he went out, Kim thought. Finally Kim checked the bathroom. He opened the door not bothering to knock as he and Chay were not fussed about privacy with each other.

“Chay I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I was starting to get worried.” Kim whined. As he stepped onto the tiled floor all he could do was stare and blink.

Chay was standing in front of the mirror in a short blue pleated skirt, knee length socks, and a camisole, holding a tube of mascara. There was even a little bow clip in his hair. 

All that occupied Kim’s mind in that moment was how adorable Chay looked. 

Chay froze and blinked back at Kim before scrambling to run away. Being in the bathroom he did not have much luck and ended up squatting in between the sink and bathtub.

“I didn’t know you would be back so soon.” Chay said as he looked up at Kim.

“Huh.” Kim responded stupidly.

Chay opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally saying, “How about you get out of the bathroom and I get up from sitting on the floor and we can have a better conversation in the living room.”

“Yes. That's a good idea,” Kim nodded before exiting the bathroom backwards. He sat down on the couch and waited for Chay.

After a few minutes he came out and Kim sat Chay down in his lap and stared at him, the skirt was gone but he still had a bow in his hair. Chay blushed all the way to his ears.

“Um you weren’t really supposed to see that but it's okay I think? Is it okay with you? I just don't know. I saw the skirt one time and I tried it on and it just made me happy for some reason I don't know, that's not weird is it?”

“Slow down baby.” Kim chuckled, “yes it's okay.”

“It's okay,” Chay repeated with a sigh.

Kim brought his hands to his boyfriends cheeks, “Do you want to talk about it? Do you do that a lot when I'm not here?”

“Not like every time, only if I’m in the mood for it I guess. If that makes sense.” Chay said.

 “Is it like a sex thing or…..?”

Chay blushed even more, “I don't think so, though I wouldn't mind that if you wanted it to be.” He paused and frowned a little, “I don’t know why I like it so much, I don't want to actually be a girl or anything I don't think?. It's just fun for some reason. It's freeing; I feel so myself and...” he paused and looked down at the couch they were sitting on, “I like feeling pretty.”

“You looked very pretty.”

“Really?” Chay asked and Kim nodded in response, “Thank you.” He murmured into Kim's neck.

“You can wear it around the house if you want, when I’m there.” Kim played with the little bow clip in Chay’s hair, he couldn’t help but still think it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“You want me too?” Chay looked back up at his boyfriend with eyes full of wonder.

“Yeah. I could even buy you another skirt if you wanted,” he placed a kiss on Chay's fluffy hair, “or more clips.” Kim was never going to pass up an opportunity to spoil him, and he would do anything to help Chay be more Chay.

Chay cuddled as close as he could into Kim’s body, “I’m so glad you came home early.”

Kim gently held his cheeks and kissed his adorable person, “Me too, pretty baby.”

[amethystina]

i understand this question may end up leading you to reveal something you're not ready to reveal yet, but can we expect the kidnapping arc soon? Considering according to the timeline there's little over a week left of yohan and Elijah's stay. This is also assuming gaon is the one being kidnapped (?) Probably asking you to reveal too much but I'm genuinely very curious about the timeline and had to ask. No pressure to give me a response though😭

You guys really are excited about the kidnapping tag. And I admit that I'm beginning to fear that you all are going to hype it up way too much and then be disappointed when the moment finally arrives since it's not going to be all that spectacular. Like, calling it an "arc" might be giving it too much weight x'D

But, to answer your question: No, it's not going to happen anytime soon. There's a long way to go, in fact, with a lot of plot points that need to happen first.

As for the timeline, you have to remember that you got the estimate "a little over a week left" from Ga On, not Yo Han. And Ga On has no idea how long Yo Han and Elijah are actually planning to stay — he's just making assumptions based on his own thoughts and fears. Yo Han said one to two months and Ga On is the one who suddenly decided that, most likely, Yo Han will want to leave as soon as that first month is up.

But he's got no actual proof to support that theory (other than the fact that he broke Yo Han's heart) and also completely ignores the influence Elijah might have over the decision. As in, if Elijah wants to spend more time with Ga On, will Yo Han truly force her to return to Switzerland just because he's heartbroken? Or will he stay for her sake?

Basically, maybe don't trust the depressed and unreliable narrator too much when it comes to this specific subject x'D

And yes, Ga On is the one who's going to be kidnapped. I've already answered that in another ask because I don't think that's a secret, given the source material and type of fanfic this is. Kidnapping is sort of a requirement, I'd say xD Besides, Yo Han is presumed dead so who would even come up with the idea of kidnapping him? And I'm too protective over Elijah to have her be kidnapped. So Ga On it is!

But please don't hype it up too much. I really don't think it will be as cool as some of you seem to hope that it will be >_>