#all people merely revealing through their actions what sort of person they already are

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

"Murder is Werewolves" - Batman

I don't got the SPOONS to do this thought train justice, I have seriously been trying to write this thing for MONTHS so just, idk, have this half baked skeletal outline of the essay I guess:

I don't believe that Batman's no-kill rule is primarily about rehabilitation or second chances.

His refusal to believe that Cassandra could have killed someone when she was eight years old because "how could a killer understand my commitment not to kill" is absolute fucking MOON LOGIC from a rehabilitationist standpoint. No jury on the planet would think for even a second that she could reasonably be held accountable for her actions in that situation! Her past cannot condemn her to being incapable of valuing human life under a rehabilitation centering framework. However, Batman's reasoning makes perfect sense if he believes that killing is a spiritually/morally corrupting act which permanently and fundamentally changes a person, and that corruption can never be fully undone.

Dick Grayson killing the Joker is treated both narratively and by Batman as an unequivocally WIN for the Joker. The Joker won by turning Nightwing into a killer. Note that this is during a comic in which the Joker transforming people was a major theme! Batman didn't revive the Joker because the Joker deserved to live; he revived the Joker to lift the burden on Dick.

His appeal to Stephanie when she tried to kill her dad is that she shouldn't ruin her own life. He gives no defense of Cluemaster's actual life. Granted this is a rhetorical strategy moment and should be taken with a generous pinch of salt, but it fits in the pattern.

When Jason becomes a willful killer, he essentially disowns him, never treats him with full trust ever again, and... Well, we can stop here for Bruce's sake. Bottom line is that his actions towards Jason do not lead me to believe that he thinks Jason can become a better person without having his autonomy taken from him, either partially or fully.

The Joker is, for better or worse, the ultimate symbol and vessel of pure, irredeemable evil in DC comics now. He hasn't been just another crook in a long time. He will never get better, he will only get worse. If you take it to be true that the Joker will not or can not rehabilitate, then there's no rehabilitationist argument against killing him.

Batman does not seem to consider it a possibly that he'll rehabilitate. Batman at several points seems to think that the Joker dying in a manner no one could have prevented would be good. Yet Batman fully believes that if he killed the Joker, he himself would become irredeemable.

Batman's own form of justice (putting people into the hospital and then prison) is fucking brutal and clearly not rehabilitative. He disrespects the most basic human rights of all criminals on a regular basis. It is genuinely really, really weird from a rehabilitationist standpoint that his only uncrossable line is killing... But it makes perfect sense if he cares more about not corrupting himself with the act of killing than the actual ethical results of any individual decision to kill or not kill.

In the real world cops are all bastards because they are too violent to criminals, even when that violence doesn't lead to death. Prison is a wildly evil thing to do to another human being, and you don't use it to steal away massive portions of a person's life if your goal is to rehabilitate them. In the comic world, Batman is said to be necessary because the corrupt cops are too nice to criminals and keep letting them out of jail. I don't know how to write a connector sentence there so like I hope you can see why this bothers me so damn much! That's just not forgiveness vibes there Batman!!

I want to make special note here of the transformative aspect. You don't simply commit a single act when you kill, no, you become a killer, like you might become a werewolf.

The narrative supports this a lot!

Why did Supes go evil during Injustice? He killed the Joker. Why did Bruce become the Batman Who Laughs? Bruce killed the Joker. Why was Jason Todd close to becoming a new Joker during Three Jokers? Because he killed people, to include the Joker.

Even if these notions of redemption being impossible aren't the whole of his reasoning (people never have only one reason for doing what they do) it is a distinct through-line pattern in his actions and reasoning, and it is directly at odds with notions of rehabilitation, redemption, and second chances.

So why does he give so many killers second chances?

Firstly because this doesn't apply to all versions of Batman. Some writers explicitly incorporate rehabilitation and forgiveness into his actions. You will be able to provide me with examples of this other through-line pattern if you go looking for them. The nature of comics is to be inconsistent.

Secondly the existence of that other pattern does not negate the existence of this one. People and characters are complex, and perfectly capable of holding two patterns of belief within themselves, even when they conflict to this degree. You can absolutely synthesize these two ideas into a single messy Batman philosophical vibescape.

Finally and most importantly to this essay: he has mercy on killers the same way that werewolf hunters sometimes have mercy on someone who is clearly struggling against their monsterous nature, especially if they were turned in exceptional circumstances or against their will. They understand that they are sick, damned beasts, cursed to always be fighting against themselves and the evil they harbor within. It is vitally kind to help them fight themselves by curtailing their autonomy in helpful ways and providing them with chances to do some good to make up for their eternal moral deficiency.

I think in many comics Batman views killers as lost souls. Battered and tormented monsters who must be pitied and given mercy wherever possible. (The connections to mental health, addiction, and rampant, horrifying ableism towards people struggling with both is unavoidable, but addressing it is sadly outside of the scope of this essay.)

Above all, the greatest care possible must be taken to never, ever let yourself become one of them, because once you have transformed the beast will forever be within you growing stronger.

To Batman, it is the most noble burden, the highest mercy, the most important commandment: Thou shalt suffer the monsters to live.

[horizon-verizon]

When Rhaenyra discovered that Tyland Lannister had divided the royal treasury and sent most of it beyond her reach, Rhaenyra subjected him to incredibly brutal interrogation to get him to reveal where it was, including gouging out his eyes and gelding him. She planned to have 16 years-old Addam Velaryon tortured on the mere suspicion of disloyalty, only stopped by Corlys warning him in time for him to get away. I agree that GRRM make it clear that she was the rightful heir, but he also make it clear that Rhaenyra was just as horrible and tyrannical as Aegon II. None of them deserved the Iron Throne.

I wrote about this HERE and HERE.

*EDITED POST* (3/27/24)

I think that "none of them deserved the Iron Throne" in a fandom that already tries to blame the entire Dance on her runs the risk of discouraging people from assessing Rhaenyra's background and the material for her motivations for violence (as one would do with a perosn they see as even close to "human" or acting as an ordinary perosn could), thus it only encourages making Rhaenyra's actions "nonsensical" and "unjustifed" and "barbaric". '

ALSO, doesn't Aegon decide to execute dozens and dozens of people, including Sylvenna Sand, Essie, and those who followed the Shepherd?! People he definitely didn't need to kill?! Double standard much?

A)

Coming from what I say below, by the time Rhaenyra goes to KL, her decision to be more ruthless also comes from the death of her oldest son, Jace, and before this, she already lost her second Luke to Aemond's machismo rage. When she lost Luke, she broke down and as the quote about her reaction to losing Jace shows, it appears she was determined to destroy any persons who helped the greens usurp her. The usurpation led to the conflicts that would cause her kids' deaths.

I think it makes sense for Rhaenyra to look at Tyland (a green and the one who rationalized his betrayal of her in the green council) as her enemy. He was a person who at least enabled the greens to properly usurp her in the green council and didn't seem to have much compunction or difficulty doing it...and he is the one who is still helping the greens by removing the royal treasury from Rhaenyra's grasp. Before Rhaenyra imprisoned & tortured him, he had already done this one critical thing. It wasn't all that practical...but to write it completely off as unforgiveable stupid is unfair.

Remember that it is this one thing that really disables Rhaenyra from establishing her rule efficiently and more peacefully. She needed to fix this issue AND she obviously sought some sort of revenge through him. Especially during a time when an invading green army could enter KL at any time to oust her, creating a very fearful environment for her as well as the ordinary inhabitants.

Imagine what it would have been like, for a second--anyone who is reading this--from either perspective:

your antagonistic step-parent has insulted/worked against you since you was 10 or so ("who protects her from Cole", years of trying to expose her and her sons, etc). AND you have experienced unsubtle and subtle harassment from a person you can't just kick out because they are your father's wife and technically outrank you for the latter half of your childhood

same step-parent taught their children/your siblings to dismiss you and your son's enough for years until they formed their own "rivalry" and your siblings do not respect your children/their nieces or nephews bc they feel they are inherently superior -> one cold-bloodedly kills one of your kids (and he did do so purposefully, fuck HotD and it's "logic" of making everything an accident and not the poor greens' fault).

*Rhaenyra didn't do anything to these people to merit the harm they did to her, which preceded any harm she did to them or those who followed them and helped them to power.

You have been usurped, you lost a child (this part would hit harder if you actually wanted and loved your kids) one through a miscarriage, another murder, and one in battle

your father's death was kept from you until the very last minute;

you arrived at the place where you must figure out how to keep your hard-won position from enemies still outside the gates that could come at any second

you probably have the need to "prove" your kids' deaths "meant" something

These are Rhaenyra's likeliest pressures. The deal with Tyland is that Rhaenyra saw him as a green against her (and can we blame her?) as well her wanting to to get things under control as soon as possible. I don't condone the suspicions of the bastards, especially Nettles, but you make it seem like Rhaenyra was unique in her cruelty while simultaneously claiming none deserved the throne, flattening the story to "no one is 'better' than the other, so no one deserves it".

I wouldn't say that Rhaenyra was altruistic or compassionate to everyone around her, or that in general altruism or thinking of others as a part of her own family was in her character. Rather she has a similar level of regard for others as people imagine is common amongst humans: not wanting to directly cause damage to those she doesn't know until perceived harm is done, or until she feels forced to. Again, otherwise more concerned with her immediate life and self-interested than not. But still, with who Tyland is, what he did to help the greens displace & usurp her and then lead to her sons' deaths, her need to establish order as soon as possible and how all of these things happening all at once or in quick succession creating a heavy psychological burden on a person...it's not hard to see how a lot of people, maybe you, anon, would do similar things.

Then there is the KL commonborn's need to survive not only from attacks but to make a living (traders, merchants, barkeepers) when the influx of travelers from anywhere suddenly stops. Suddenly there is a lot more thievery. Then there will also be lots of people going crazy from the stress, which would cause more murders, rapings, etc. This would explain how executions also rose and Rhaneyra decided "might as well make money off of this" and charged people for coming to see the rising number of executions. There is also not much time going to be paid towards these executions as much as, once again, defending oneself from enemies and the grief of losing kids.

The reason why we should or do admire people who manage to make good or even passably logical decisions during moments like these is because they managed in the first place. Which makes them special. Yeah we need leaders who can try and do the most they can to perform their duties, but to expect them to be 100% or even 80% without help is...ludicrous. They are still very human.

B)

Vaemond's death, while brutal was arguably deserved & necessary bc:

he thought it smart to protest her offering Luke as Corlys' heir by stating he was a bastard right in front of her after Viserys had already stated and declared that anyone who called his grandkids bastards would have their tongues ripped out/corporal punishment (almost like Brandon Stark with Rhaegar, but at least Brandon's action isn't trying/allowing the murder of innocents)

called Rhaenyra a traitor to the crown, endangering her and her kids' lives so he could benefit from maybe becoming the next lord of Driftmark, something he doesn't actually need

nor what the actual lord (Corlys) wanted. If Vaemond so wanted the seat, he could have gone to Colrys a long time before, but he didn't bc he knew Corlys would shut that down.

Remember that in his society, the lord/head of house declares the next heir/leader of house. If one argues that this feudal hierarchical system is inherently unjust and acknowledges that Vaemond is trying to get others killed purely to benefit from being a man, chasing power that could be granted under other circumstances, then one should not argue that Vaemond is acting morally when he calls Rhaenyra's kids bastards. There is also nothing moral about using a person's bastardry and patriarchal mores of female chastity to claim that you deserve to rule. (The point of the Dance.)

C)

Again, By the time she and Daemon took KL, she's made the decision to be more ruthless ("The Red Dragon and the Gold"):

Aegon the Elder, on the other hand, had no reason to take the throne or watch his bastard kids fight in pits or rape a 11-year-old and several other servants and maids (you think he stopped at "fondling", dream on) and Alicent, while she was trying for power for herself and in a different story would be more commendable for doing so by taking advantage of her position as the would-be heir's mother, she also did much of her amoral actions without provocation. What did she do to Rhaenyra before any of Rhaenyra's kids are born? I already told you. And again, if she hadn't turned her sons against Rhaenyra, Aemond would not have done as he did regarding Vhagar and then got it in his head to kill Lucerys to prove a point of strength.

I'm not sure what you expected from Rhaenyra that wouldn't likely be a lot of people's own reactions, or what one would expect from most people after their kids have been killed. You'd have to be privileged enough to not expect others to harangue or assault you purely out of hate or ambition.

Also, meanwhile, Alicent is out here thinking she's in the moral right to dismiss the deaths of Jace and Luke as "bastard blood shed in war" and saying the deaths of her son(s), the legitimate ones, are worth more than Rhaenyra's based on legitimacy. The social stigma of those born out of wedlock informing the worthiness of lives. It's actually pretty amazing she didn't have Alicent imprisoned in a cell deep within the Keep way down below in the deepest of cells that no one ever comes out of for that alone.

What made Rhaenyra tyrannical by the end was that from an early time in her life, she was treated as undeserving due to her femaleness and then she had to keep her belief in herself extant in the face of that and then from the war she grew paranoid from several betrayals. Whether she is a "good" person or not is not really my issue, my issue is that she wasn't allowed autonomy or power that she didn't claim for herself. That she was regarded and treated as "bad" or inferior by those around her before she ever really got to develop into something else. Before she had to self-determine. when when she did self determine, yeah, she'd not gonna be Daenerys-good, but grow as a woman within a feudal structure, which is not always going to be exactly "moral" but can try to claim power. Esp when it's denied to her based on gender but she's been declared as an heir for about 2 decades. So yeah, she's "just like everyone else" class wise, but her gender and how she defies the desired compulsion of her gender to not press for rule is what we are here for to witness and ponder over when we also witness the patriarchal violent response to such.

That comes with the development of the need to protect such powers, which got worse after her son deaths and the multiple pressures of a city during a war, these things which a ruler didn't usually have to face right when they begin to rule all at once.

So no, Rhaenyra wasn't always tyrannical or evil. There was progression based on others' attacks and Viserys never gave her some sort of training in politics that Jaehaerys probably gave Aemon and Baelon and Aegon I gave Aenys. Of course, Rhaenyra had the opportunity to learn on her own, but

A) She already did on Dragonstone and again the situation in King's Landing is very unlike the typical ascendant's situation upon their first days of rule: an ongoing war, riots incited by a hiding green and a crazy man from the Citadel most likely, some councilmen unjustifiably blaming you for their wife's death, etc. The pressure would have been intense and the need to pull everything right together seemed to have outrun her mental capacity...again sons' deaths (also Rhaenys, I don't think she was distant with Rhaenys, who also loved her sons and the daughters of Laena Rhaenyra raised).

B) To think that some education from her father/ruler and confidence in her wouldn't have helped her to get her bearings is pretty myopic.

[mxdarling]

[A Darling that is obedient but clever]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: Yan. ruggie, cater, & epel with a obedient but clever darling.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 1103

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] slight blackmail (towards reader), cater using his online influence against you, yandere behavior, slight mentions of violence, hints of trauma, tiny spoilers for Ruggie's backstory, manipulation.

[GN reader]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Cater Diamond;

➮ CATER DIAMOND has quite the intuition doesn't he? Being able to read what people's wants and desires, so he's most likely to be the first or second out of the three to realize that there's something more than your obedience. He knows you are hiding something from him, he knows, he just can't get his finger on it. Cater knows how to read people very well which makes it quite hard to be discreet with him around, though you are a clever little thing aren't you? You are practically making Cater run for his money to finally figure everything about you. He can finally know what dark little secrets you've been keeping away from him. Oh, how he can't wait for that to finally happen..

➮ Just like how he would be able to know you're hiding something, he'll also be able to finally figure you out. He'll probably act like he still is clueless about you, act like he doesn't know what you are doing, until later on when you least expected. He can now access all the things you don't want people to know. Maybe this time you'll finally stay with him. You've made him go through so many lengths to finally get to know you, in and out. He should at least get some rewards out of this, in the end he had worked so hard to get to you...

➮ Ahaha, silly little darling, you thought you could get away with no one noticing with cay-cay around? Aw how cute of you. Too bad Cater isn't like those dumb NRC students who are too arrogant and violent, no Cater is so much worse. If you haven't know already Cater while not being as famous as Vil, he still has the online influence to his advantage. Even in school, who will the students believe more? Sweet o'l Cater, or the magicless prefect? Don't worry as long as you behave, your lovely senior Cater-kun will love you forever~

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Ruggie Bucchi;

➮ RUGGIE BUCCHI is a little hard to tell, but I think he's more likely to be the first to figure out that this obedient act of yours is just another way of getting away with things with others being suspicious. Due to his upbringing in his childhood, he knows fake kindness when he sees one, he also hates being deceived. He's a little upset that you, his darling, the person he wishes to share his future with could possibly be tricking him in this very moment. At first he wanted to confront you but on second thought, you didn't really think he would find out about this, did you? Imagine how he feels, seeing the most trusted person try to fool him before his eyes. Maybe he should do that same to you, give you a piece of your own medicine. Maybe then you'll understand how he feels better this way.

➮ The moment he has you caught red-handed, he's already thinking of a way to confront you when you least expected it. He's certain you haven't figured he'd known the little things you've been hiding from him. Oh how he's already giggling by your surprised expression once he reveals he has known all the things you've kept hidden and all your obedient acts are just a way to cover up any suspicion towards you. He knows it all. Don't even try to lie your way out of this one, you're backed into a corner. He caught you fair and square.

➮ Oh, how he loved that look in your eyes. You know you are in trouble, you know you've been caught, but you can't. You can't get your way out of this one, not when Ruggie is the one who confronted you. He's cunning and known for deceiving people for his self-interests. Yet you still believe you would be able to get pass him without him noticing. In all honestly, he'll give you some credit, you got him at the first half. It has been a while since someone tried to fool him, he was actually almost got fooled by you. Shame. If only were you a little careful or perhaps just acted a little more on caution... or maybe you should have known that your dear Ruggie will find out sooner or later...

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Epel Felmier;

➮ EPEL FELMIER is the one who will figure you last out of the three. Mainly because he can't read people as easily like Cater nor can he be able to decipher if someone is hiding something from him like Ruggie, but he is able to trick some people into thinking he is just a meek and gentle student here in NRC. It works most of the time but only if they haven't knew Epel's true self and it's usually a one-time use trick. He'll be very enthusiastic about your obedient behavior, it makes it easier for him to get you to do things with him, or just spend time with him in general but that also triggers his possessive side. He'll think that everyone will try to use you since you are so obedient. He can't have his darling being tainted by these dumb idiots.

➮ I think the only way for Epel to actually know about you being a clever little shit is if he actually saw you do something and got away with it without no one banting an eyelash. For the first time he'll probably not think about it too much until he kept seeing it for him to gain suspicion about your behavior. I feel like he'll be the only one out of the three who won't really mind with you hiding something from him unless you actually try to go against him. He'll admit, he's may not be the smartest out of the bunch but he doesn't like being treated like some random idiot. He's so much better than that.

➮ When he confronts you about this, he'll be very straightforward with you about it. You actually could get out of this with only a worried Epel if you play your cards right. Since unlike the first other two, instead of feeling like you've been caught and backed into a corner with Epel is just more of a misunderstanding of the sorts. Though by the off chance you don't get yourself out of this one smoothly (which is most unlikely considering you're a clever little shit /j) you'll then deal with a very... pissy Epel for like the past hour or two unless you properly explain to him you aren't gonna lie and deceive him.. You won't actually do it, you love him too much to do that right?

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; Hihi anon!! Sorry this came out so late!! Not gonna lie I was struggling with this because these are characters I haven't done the yandere type post yet, but I really wanted to get this one done. I think I had a little too much fun with ruggie's but I hope I did your request properly!!]

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Sands of Eon (1/2)

(A/N): Buckle your seatbelts, cause this is a long one! Read with sad music to really get in the mood. Cause I wrote this with sad music playing in the background lol.

“Do you have a wish, Xiao? I’ll write it on your lantern.”

“No need. I don’t have a lantern nor do I have the desire to make one.” He quickly shut down your offer, no sound of amusement or humor found in his tone. But unfortunately for him, you were used to his constant rejection and came prepared this time.

Grabbing another lantern from under the table, you pushed it towards him with a smile.

“Well, lucky for you, I already made you one.” you laughed, seeing his surprised reaction at the lantern in his hands. “No need to thank me.” you added.

“I don’t-”

You interrupted him before he could say no. “I already made it, and I don’t need two wishes. And like I said, I’ll even write it for you if you want.” Seeing his hesitation, you offered him a deal. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

Xiao, knowing you weren’t going to give up until he relented, nodded reluctantly.

You clapped your hands happily at his defeat.

“My wish is to become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao!” you exclaimed, showing him your lantern.

    To become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao.

                                                                                 - (Y/N)

The adeptus gave you a puzzled look after confirming for himself that you had indeed written the same wish verbatim, onto your lantern.

“Well, you protect Liyue, right? But who protects you?” you asked the yaksha. And you predicted that he would say something along the lines of “not needing the protection of a mere human” or what not, so you chimed in again. “Of course, I’m not as powerful as you are. So my protection will mostly be in the form of Almond Tofus and my company. And I'll always be here for you, whenever you need me.”

“I have no need of you, nor your company.”

You tried not to smile at the fact he didn’t mention not needing Almond Tofus.

“I’m lonely. You’re lonely. So we can be lonely together, then.” Shrugging, you changed the subject before he could retort back. “So, what’s your wish then?”

At the conversation returning back to the topic of his wish, he let out another sigh.

“Hand me the brush, I’ll write it.”

As he silently wrote down his own wish on his lantern, you wondered whether he insisted on writing it himself because he was embarrassed to say his wish out loud. Or was it because he didn’t like your handwriting? You figured it would most likely be the latter. But upon noticing the slight blush dusted onto his cheeks, you couldn't help but second-guess yourself.

And after a short moment later, he handed the writing utensil and lantern back to you.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me to release the lanterns?” you asked him, hopeful that maybe this year would be the year to finally convince the recluse man of joining the festivities. “We can release it on the mountain, instead of in the city if you would feel more comfortable?”

“I would feel more comfortable staying here.” he replied firmly. His tone didn’t give away any leeway of changing his mind, so you decided that the lanterns would have to do this year. But hey, at least he participated.

After gathering your things, you made your way down the steps of the inn, and into the direction of the road leading back to the city. You waved a goodbye up to Xiao, who just watched your retreating figure. It was only when you stopped walking to frantically wave at him, that he gave a half-hearted wave back. He probably breathed a sigh of relief at your absence, once you left his view. But still, the half-hearted action brought a smile to your lips, and it remained with you the rest of the way home.

Once the Lantern Rite festival ended, the Xiao lanterns disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

You had been tempted to keep Xiao's lantern after the festival, knowing it was the first, but you hoped not the last, lantern Xiao had written a wish on. But the lanterns were meant to be released, not kept. And it wasn't hard to keep the wishes written on yours and Xiao's lanterns to your memory.

In the following days after the Lantern Rite festival, you spent your time contemplating how to go about making your lantern wish become a reality. But as you wracked your brain, continuously pondering over the problem, you were left with one resounding question.

What really could you do for Xiao?

You didn’t have much to offer the yaksha. You were neither rich nor someone with immense power that could rival his. Your company, which you weren’t even sure whether he enjoyed or not, was the only thing you had going for you. Well, that and making him Almond Tofus.

So then, nothing, it seemed.

You sure talked big for someone who had nothing to back it up with.

That was until one day, when you came across a certain object in a treasure chest in your adventures.

“It’d be best if you destroy that, and forget you ever saw it, (Y/N).” the archon responded to your question.

“Why? Isn’t it just another hourglass artifact?”

You figured asking Zhongli about the item would be your best bet. With how old he truly was, the Geo Archon had an immense knowledge of everything, and if anyone knew what the artifact was, it would have to be him.

“That’s one of the artifacts that was lost during the Archon War. It’s far more powerful than any used these days.” The funeral parlor owner took another sip of his tea, before continuing. “It’s infused with the raw power of a god, so it has special abilities.”

“Like?”

The man should've known that you weren’t going to follow his advice from the start. He let out a defeated sigh, before elaborating further. “There were rumors that the god who created that specific artifact had received the Sands of Eon from Time itself.”

“Time is a person- I mean a living being?!”

“Again, just rumors.” he noted. “And supposedly, by infusing the artifact with his own power, it could bend the laws of time.”

Your eyes grew wide at the new information. “So you’re saying this artifact could, in theory, turn back time.”

“In theory, yes.”

How could such a powerful artifact have washed up shore and land into your hands?

You decided to ask him one last question, already getting a slight headache at the information just revealed.

“What happened to the god?”

“It was said that the first and only time he used the piece was after watching his people massacred during the Archon War. He used it to save his people; warning them of the future events beforehand, buying them enough time to flee. Consequently, the price he paid for saving all his people was was at the cost of his own life.”

He left you with some parting final words as you left the funeral parlor, to sort out your thoughts.

“There's always a price for changing the past, (Y/N).”

Your first thought had been to give the artifact to Xiao, allowing him to go back in time to when he made a contract with the evil god, Kubira, who used him as a bloodhound. But remembering the fate of the original owner of the artifact prevented you from doing so.

It was then you were reminded of your lantern wish.

To become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao.

This was the answer to your wish.

You could use it yourself, and stop Xiao from forming the contract with whatever means necessary. You made a promise to protect him and by doing this you would be able to. There would be no pain or suffering for him to endure if you were successful. And once you realized that this was the the only way to truly protect your friend, you knew there was no turning back.

You gave yourself a month to prepare. Reading up on everything there was to the Archon War to prevent a change into the outcome, with your sudden appearance in the past. It was also meant a month of pestering Zhongli; asking about anything that wasn't recorded or lost in Liyue's history. You researched everything you could about the evil god, Kubira, as well, in order to prevent the infamous past contract that sealed Xiao's fate.

And it was, perhaps, the first time you were ever thankful to have grown up alone. No close ties with anyone, no family to miss once you left. Sure you had friends, but they could continue to live on without you.

The only one person you realized that you would truly miss and regret leaving behind, was the same person you were going back into the past for. You wondered if he would be okay once you left. You were the only one who pushed through his constant rejection and intimidating demeanor to truly get to know him and to be able to call him a friend.

But if you were successful in changing the past, would he even be able remember you?

The night before your departure, you visited Xiao at the Wangshu Inn, with a bowl of his favorite dish.

The adeptus who didn’t know a word about your plan, paused at the forlorn look you had as you watched him eat his food. It was already strange to him that you were just watching him, instead of asking him how his day was or telling him who you had met on your way over like always. And the forced way you nonchalantly brushed off your watering eyes as seasonal allergies confused him even more. Something was off about the way you were acting. And the question you proceeded to ask him was the icing on the cake.

“Hey, Xiao. If I went missing for some time, would you miss me?”

If you had asked this in the first year you met him, he would’ve probably responded with a relieved no. But currently, he remained silent at your question.

Had your efforts to befriend him pay off? Did you actually manage to squeeze into his heart, and make yourself a little home?

“…I would miss your Almond Tofus.” he replied after a long minute, paired with a straight face.

Well, it was better than a no.

During the early stages of your "friendship" with Xiao, the words, "get lost" were thrown in your direction every time you had come to visit. So to you, his current answer was certainly an improvement.

“Is it really that hard to say, “Yes, (Y/N). I would miss you so much. Don’t ever leave me” ?” you drawled, trying not to laugh when he briefly choked on his food at your choice of words.

Gulping down his water, he cleared his throat loudly. “Ehem. F-fine, I guess I would notice your absence.”

Sure, it wasn’t the confession you were hoping for, but you would take it.

You gave him a small smile, turning your attention to the view from the top floor balcony.

Taking in a deep breath, you gathered up the courage to speak your next words.

“Hey, Xiao.”

You looked at him with another smile, this one not quite reaching your eyes. You took a silent moment to memorize his face, down to every detail. When you reached his eyes, you tried to keep yourself from getting lost in the amber pools. But with one look at them, you failed miserably, falling straight into their depths. And with your undivided attention given to his eyes, you failed to notice the slight reddening of his cheeks.

“Thank you for protecting Liyue. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my first love. And most of all, thank you for always being there for me.”

You stood up quietly, holding onto the same bittersweet smile on your face as you neared him. And before he was given the chance to register your words, you quickly left a soft kiss on his cheek; disappearing down the stairs without another glance back.

Regaining his conscious a moment later, he was about to chase after you, knowing you couldn’t have gone far. But a folded letter on the table in front of him distracted him momentarily, giving you enough time to escape.

Xiao,

I thought long and hard about what I could do for you after saying those big words about protecting you. And I think this is the best way to do that. 

I know you won’t remember any of this once I come back, if I come back. You probably won’t even remember me. But that’s okay. I’ll be fine, being the only one who remembers, if it means you’ll have a better future. So don’t let my efforts go to waste! Eat something other than Almond Tofu and snow. Make and surround yourself with friends. I hope I showed you that humans can be worthwhile friends too. And don’t ever think that you deserve solitude, because you deserve so much more than that. 

Thank you again for everything. I never felt alone when i was with you. I’m still not even sure if you consider us friends, but your friendship meant the world to me. So I’m going to have to insist that we are friends.

I don’t have any regrets leaving. I lived and I loved thanks to you. So now it’s your turn. 

I hope you can live your new life without any regrets or burdens weighing you down.

Love Always,

(Y/N).

Part 2 here!

(A/N): i made it into a two part, because it was taking too much scrolling to read everything lol. Also why is Xiao’s story so sad? I did some research before writing and like I’m crying dude.

Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell for notifications for more videos. jk lol, this isn’t youtube. Just play some Genshin.

[dreamii-yume]

So, in the event, Rook has shown that he just carries rope with him. You may do whatever you wish with that information 👀

This was an ask from a few...weeks ago? I don’t remember exactly how long this was sitting in my inbox because I was waiting for the perfect time to answer it (//∇//)

Rook had been a very kind and helpful senior to you this year. You’ll be lying if you say that you didn’t think he was a bit strange like the others, but he has that certain charm in him that makes it difficult for you to complete look away from his direction. Besides, it got to the point where you just got used to him and even thought his actions were somehow entertaining...If you were the spectator, rather than the target that is.

Rook is a very doting person as well, you are by no means an exception to this peculiarity of his. He’ll appear when you least expected it, often startling you out of your skin just by a mere greeting alone. He would always talk to you as if he’s reciting a poem ever so often, making you think that you may or may not have completely lost his point here, it’s almost like he’s talking in a different language. He always acts like this towards you, and to everyone else as well, you could never know what he’s thinking or what he wants in the first place. Part of you just thought that he may just have been built differently than others, but then again, Rook is an elusive individual to begin with so everything could all be an act in the first place.

Long store short; you were both fascinated and terrified of this man.

But as strange and conflicting your relationship with Rook is, you still respected the guy as your senior to some extent. Say what you want about the the Pomefiore Vice Dorm Leader but you can’t deny his wide range of capabilities. When you are at a lost for things that you think you can’t do, he was the one who provided you with the advices and help that you needed during those times. Before you knew it, you had already owe him in many ways and yet, Rook had never once asked for anything in return.

“Worry not, mon petite chérie. For I am only doing of what I must.” He would say to you as an excuse, often filling you with guilt sometimes. Especially whenever he would ever so gently pat your head, chuckling to himself as he towers down upon you. “Seeing the beauty in your smile is enough to make my own heart flutter in happiness. Oui, believe me when I say that it’s that marvelous.”

Huh...So, people who accepts things like that as payment still exists in this time and age too. Forgive yourself from being too suspicious of his behavior though, you just don’t think a single smile is worth all that trouble but you guessed this was just another “agree-to-disagree” kind of situation. Who knows? The two of you did grew up in two different upbringings. Or quite literally, two different worlds.

Anyways, although you respected his choices after all this time, you thought it was just common sense to at least provide him with a simple gift in his birthday. You saw how everyone else such as Epel, Vil, and Trey were preparing their own gifts, so you don’t think he’ll be able to reject yours this time. You made your way through the Pomefiore lounge where the party was being held, but was unable to see a single glimpse of your peculiar senior around. It was a lively party and he may be busy with the other dorm residents, so you felt a bit out of place and proceeded to ask people you personally knew about his whereabouts.

“Rook? I was talking to him earlier but now, I have no idea where he went.” Vil said with a sigh as he crossed his arms. “That guy is as elusive as always, even I wouldn’t know exactly what’s running through that mind of his. It puts me in an unsettling position actually.”

“But it’s his birthday for goodness sake, he’s the main protagonist of the day. He should be the one to at least entertain the guest out here, not hiding in plain shadows, seriously.” You laughed nervously as Vil ranted in irritation, huffing by the end. He then glanced at you and soon took notice of the gift you’re holding. “If that gift is for him then, just leave it at his room. It’s unlocked, I believe. We stacked the other gifts he got earlier there too so it wouldn’t clog up the lounge.”

“O-Oh, is that so...Thank you very much.” Thus, ended your conversation with the Dorm Leader with a bow, watching as he walked away saying how Epel had been consuming way too much sugar for the night. With no more leads to follow, you chose to go with Vil’s suggestion and headed out to his room, still at a lost for where your senior could be.

It was true, the moment you spotted the room and turned the doorknob around, it easily spun open. “...Pardon my intrusion...” You slowly said as you took a peak before entering, unsure if anyone was actually inside. There was no one, just some elagant room design as expected with the Pomefiore dorm, with neat furnitures decorated all around. You could feel your own heart cry when you compare to your own dorm which trademark lies within the ghost residents.

You felt slightly anxious, it was your first time visiting his room like this so you couldn’t help but to gawk at some things you’ve never seen before. This was your chance to explore another man’s room, albeit only for a few seconds and by the looks of it, it really hits different that of Ace or Deuce. It has the exact same smell as Rook and the sense of familiarity was somehow calming, probably because you’re so used to being in close proximity with him now. His belongings were all well-organized, the books are neatly stacked on the bookshelves, along with some...questionable collection of bows and arrows stuck on the wall. You also noticed a spare hat and a single telescope lying on his desk, you could ask what it was for, but you preferred to keep the question for yourself.

You shook your head eventually, quickly but carefully prancing inside to place your gift on his desk. Finally, your quest has been conquered, although looking around, the other presents that Vil mentioned was nowhere to be found. Maybe he has them already opened and kept at a certain storage of some sort? Anyways, that wasn’t your problem now, you did what you needed to do, it was your time to bounce out of this room, feeling as if you’re invading too much of his personal privacy. Rook did told you that he never liked that in a person.

...Until, something else caught your eye.

You stopped, eyes blinking repeatedly at the slight tear in the wallpaper near his bed. There was something hidden inside, no, it doesn’t seem like it’s trying to hide at all. It was deliberately placed in a place like that for everyone to see. So, like a cat overwhelmed by curiosity, you stepped close to inspect it, even going as far as stepping on the neatly draped bed sheets of his to get a closer look.

“Eh...?” It was a mass of pictures of almost everything and everyone you can think of upon coming to this school. It was stuck inside the wall like a collection of some sort and it took you a while to actually get what all of this meant. “There’s so many pictures...Pfft...!”

You ended up laughing at yourself for feeling so tense, you honestly felt stupid for the amount of suspense you gave yourself. Of course, this was definitely something that Rook Hunt will do, what did you think it was going to be? Sure, it is creepy to think that someone is keeping tabs at everyone and everything through photography but this is just normal in this school. At least, to those who knew Rook to some extent, it’s not really a big deal nowadays, especially at this school. Anyways, you calmed your laughter down and stared back at the pictures to actually admire them as despite it all, every one of them are all well-taken.

Humming throughout your exploration, you thought it would be interesting to see if you could spot yourself in one of these photos. You looked around and at first, it was tough since you weren’t anywhere in the photos that the wallpaper could reveal but after a while you found a glimpse of your own face at the very edge. However, the tear in the wallpaper stops there so it filled you with disappointment to not be able to see the photo he took of you. “That’s a bummer...” You pouted slightly.

However, combined with overwhelming curiosity, your mischievous side couldn’t help but to come out. You peaked through the small hole inside the wallpaper and confirmed that there is more, as you expected Rook would have, just not visible from your angle. You didn’t want to damage anything but you carefully slipped your fingers in the small opening, trying to get a better look of the picture. You were mainly trying to shine light on them, just a little bit more and you could make out of its content. It got your heart pumping somehow, eager to see what kind of photo you were in.

“Bonjour~”

Screaming almost immediately due to panic and shock, you made the mistake of instinctively gripping his wallpaper tight, dragging them down completely by accident. You turned around, face flushed and clutched your chest as your heart beats so fast that it feels like it could jump out at any moment. “R-Ro-Rook-san!?” You stammered out, your butt hitting the bed while your legs shook. “W-Wha-When...!?”

Rook only gave out a chuckle as you frantically try to calm your nerves, which was nearly impossible after the stunt that he just pulled. You knew he loved doing this and to think you’d be used to it by now, but this one felt so different than the other times you were startled by him. He was so close to you with that greeting, too close in fact. Just where the hell does he keep coming from, you didn’t even hear a single sound from your surroundings. Rook stood straight before glancing over at the mess you had realized you made when his expression turned that of worry.

You were still gripping onto the ruined wallpaper at this point so, you gasped and quickly turned around, preparing for any damage you may have caused. However, at that moment, you stopped once your eyes had finally caught what kind of picture were inside those wallpapers all along.

“Aah...To think mon chére fleur herself would be the one to unravel my collection! How embarrassing~!” Rook said, placing a hand on his slowly heating up his cheeks. He bats an eye to your direction, looking all embarrassed as you stared, unblinking at his work. He soon smirked and chuckled darkly, leaning in closer to you from behind, in which you shivered at. “...But how does it look in your perspective? Aren’t they all beautiful?”

Yes, they were harmless pictures, that’s all there is supposed to be on it. But these pictures striked a nerve in you, one such that you didn’t know could cause this much wave of alarming fear in your body.

They were harmless but they were not normal in the slightest. For almost all of what the wallpaper had revealed was all about you, and only you that it makes you sick to the stomach. Everything that you remember doing in your daily routine had been taken into consideration, from a picture of you yawning as you wake up in the morning, to a picture of you sleeping peacefully at night. Pictures of you seemingly eating, walking, talking, everything that you’ve been doing is pasted on the same wall before you, all taken in such high resolution. If that wasn’t enough, even a few photos of you in the nude was in there, bathing and changing, you unconsciously wrapped your hands around yourself as goosebumps quickly formed.

Rook had literally been watching your every movements, documenting your life with a camera and capturing everything, including things that hits way too close. Deeply disturbed, your eyes tried to glance everywhere but the pictures, only to find no escape to them. Some pictures had even been tampered with before taking the shot, like that one photo where his hands shows his hands deliberately spreading your legs for the camera as you slept. You shivered, unconsciously thinking about that other one where it was your breasts that was fully out for the world to see and oh, god...That one with your sleeping face covered with a suspicious white liquid, you almost gagged at the mental image.

“...W-What is this...” You slowly looked up at Rook with fear in your eyes, trembling like a leaf as the same guy looked down upon you with a chilling smile. It was honestly too nauseating that you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, just in case something does come out.

“Beauty, my Love.” Rook purred closer to you, his eyes brimming with desire. “Your beauty.”

He caught your chin in a gentle yet tight grip. “I had it preserve in a memory that I would forever see. Just keeping them in my mind alone was not enough.” He said, closing in on you on his bed, preventing any possible escape routes. “...For I am a greedy man.”

And with that, you found yourself in his bind, pinning you down on the bed with your hands on each side of your head. “Now...The reason why you invaded my sanctuary was...?” Rook asked but he was not expecting you to answer at all. Instead, his eyes glanced to the side, eyeing the gift you left on his desk. “...Ah, of course. Vil must’ve given you permission to hand your gift in.”

You were as stiff as a rock, too tense to even act and move. The hands on your wrists doesn’t seem too tight but a feeling in your gut screams at you to not even try if you didn’t want to get hurt. You were left gulping down your own nervousness as Rook turned back to you with the same smile. “Merci. I’ll be sure to treasure whatever you have given me.” He whispered as he leaned closer, giving you a delicate kiss on the temple in which you squeaked at. “...But nonetheless, you trespassed on someone else’s territory, petite proie. A predator’s territory, on top of that.”

“I-I’m sor-“

“Non, an apology is not what I need. Someone as beautiful as you should not make that kind face.” Rook cuts you off, before suggestively licking his lips. He sat up, confident enough to let go of your wrist, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t have the guts to push him off. He straddled above your stomach, which left you confused and wary to wonder what he was planning to do. However, looking back at him, your eyes widened in caution as he suddenly pulled out a long and thick rope, one that would certainly burn your skin if you struggle too much. Where in the hell did he... “Lift your head up high and reap what you have sowed. That is the beauty that can justify your crimes.”

“Now...” You breathe heavily as he tightened his hold on the rope, biting his lip eagerly. You can’t even imagine how much he has planned inside his head. It made you visit the terrifying possibility that he was ready for this moment from the very beginning, curiated and planned. Your heart drops at the thought, if that is really the case, then...Just how much? How much further into the future did he plan exactly? “Allow me to indulge myself to this fine opportunity you gave me, beloved Trickster.

“...A fine opportunity, indeed. Beautifully so.”

Allow Yume to flex on her non-existing French skills along with her companion, Google Translate. i sincerely apologize to any French Darlings out there yume did not attend a single French class in her life lol

Someone teach me French so I can write more things about this sexy bitch.

[shoichee]

Rose-Tinted

Craving for angst with kise please!! Like both are afraid to act on their feelings which ends up hurting the both of them unconsciously. Idk, maybe kise is trying to “test” the girl, but went a bit too far i guess. Whatever floats your boat!! I just want angst but maybe hopefully still HEA in the end (or whichever your muse takes you) ;-; thank youu ❤️

Kise x Reader

Word Count: 6975

Note: oh my GOD, HELP THIS WAS 17 PAGES ON MY GOOGLE DOC I COULDNT STOP MYSELF………. angst, happy ending, fake dating!au, mean old kise ….. girl idk WHAT I WROTE I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ????? reader POV first half and kise POV second half~

@knb-kreations

»»—————　☼　—————««

He holds you so gently, the touch so feather-light as he cradles your head and dips his own head in for a soft peck. The warmth of his lips makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel, things that you still chased for more in a never-ending cycle. You hold onto his hands thumbing your temples to try to anchor yourself further into the bliss, but it ends all too soon when he separates from you and gives you a radiant smile.

You were rudely pulled out of your rose-tinted trance when you heard gasps and chatter amongst the gawking students nearby, particularly Kise’s fans. He doesn’t pay any mind to their reactions and turns his friendly demeanor towards them.

“So you see everyone,” he cheerfully says. “I’m sorry I can’t accept any of your affections, as much as it flatters me so… after all, I have my dear (y/n)-cchi by my side!”

Groans and cries rung throughout the campus as most wail about missing out the opportunity to be Kise’s romantic partner, but before you can listen to their laments, Kise hurriedly tugs you away to the privacy of the back of a building nearby, away from prying eyes and ears. He drops your wrist just as fast and yawns with a stretch.

“What time should we meet up tomorrow?” he casually says, taking out his phone from his pocket.

“Huh?”

“Well, we can’t exactly sell our image of us being a couple unless we walk to and from school together consistently, right (y/n)?”

The rose-tinted lenses on your self-indulgent fantasy shatters to the ground instantly. You gulp, the swallowed spit hitting down to your stomach in heavy dread, where it was previously occupied by fluttering butterflies just moments prior.

This isn’t real.

“Ah… um,” you hesitated, thinking of a reasonable time, so you can wake up and get ready accordingly. “How about this time…”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he replies, shutting off his phone before he walks a few steps away from you but then stopping. “Huh, uh… should I walk you home first? There might be some nosy people around, and we might as well get some practice in as an official couple.”

“W-Why don’t we start tomorrow morning instead?” you suggest. “A lot’s happened today, and well, I wanna have some time to myself.” Kise impassively stares at you for a couple of seconds before he forms a grin.

“Ah ha, well then, (y/n)-cchi,” he shouts jovially, making sure that his voice rang throughout the area for anyone nearby to hear. “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning, my love!”

“Y-Yeah…” you mumbled, your hand held up in a half-hearted wave. “See you…”

With that parting, you turned to the opposite direction to exit through the side gates to get to your home. Your mind scrambles to recall the impulsive decisions you decided to take on a whim today. The grip on your bag tightens as you finally realized what sort of situation you got yourself into.

You like Kise, plain and simple. You’ve always gazed longingly at him whenever his presence entered within your line of vision. You couldn’t even fault his fans for being so whipped for the basketball player in the first place, not when you felt like you were more enthralled by him than anyone else. So what does a love-stricken fool like you do when the source of attraction directly asks you to partake in a “relationship?” You immediately accept his conditional proposal on auto-pilot before he barely finishes his sentence.

It felt so wrong, yet so right. How can you hate this arrangement when you enjoyed that first kiss you shared with Kise earlier? But how can you love this arrangement when you knew Kise only kissed you to drive everyone off? You stopped on the sidewalk and heaved a huge exhale, and you continued to walk again, the action not even remotely able to clear your head. Your mind continues to swirl and race.

You agreed to this. He even laid out his intentions very clearly to you, and he was more than ready to leave you alone if you didn’t consent to this. But stupid, desperate you did. You were ashamed to feel even a shred of flattery when he told you that you were the only one he can ask to drive off his fans in this only effective method: a relationship.

“Why me?” you said, looking up at his casual posture. “Don’t you have someone you like to ask to be in a relationship? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to accept you…”

“Well,” he mumbled. “I don’t really have someone in mind… you’re kinda the only one who doesn’t drool over me whenever I’m near, and I just ought to ask for your help.”

“W-Well,” you slightly stammered. “I’m okay with helping you, right, so…”

“This isn’t something to accept so readily, you know,” he said, raising a brow. “I know this is super sudden, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to force an answer out of you right at this moment. Besides, I don’t think there’s any incentive for you to be in this either? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“N-No!” you interrupted, but you coughed to regain your composure. “I mean, I do have something in this… maybe if I got with you, people would stop trying to harass and tease me if I had someone like you by my side.” That was a half-truth, but you knew there was no way you could reveal your crush to him… not when he believed you were “different” from the others. But can anyone blame you for sticking up for Kise when someone was talking about him like a piece of meat rather than a normal person? “Besides, for you to get to this point, things must’ve gotten too chaotic to simply tell them to stop, right?”

“Huh… is that so,” he said, stretching his neck, but you didn’t know whether or not he intentionally ignored your last question. “Well, if you’re fine with this, I’m letting you know now that we’ll be doing actual couple stuff, like…” He pauses for a second to gauge your reaction. “Hugging, hand-holding… probably kissing too…”

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s fine with me! And we’ll have a code word in case either of us overstep our boundaries in any way… maybe…”

“Unagi,” he said.

“Huh? Why?”

“Because they’re the bane of evil…”

“It’s just a dish, but…” you laughed, giddy at how he already showed a different side to you apart from his cool persona. “Alright, let’s go with that.”

How long were you able to keep this up? You pat yourself on the cheeks to dismiss the rest of your fantasies. If you keep this up, Kise will soon notice how you actually were head-over-heels for him all this time, and surely you’ll lose any future chance with him. Besides, maybe you can use this unique arrangement to learn about Kise and his hobbies other than basketball. Yes, you tell yourself, jogging the rest of the way home. It won’t be so bad, after all.

———

Starting today, you’ll be officially dating Kise.

That’s how it is on paper, anyways.

How are you supposed to act while dating the Kise Ryōta? Equally cool and flamboyant? Athletically capable? Would you weird out Kise if you were the one initiating physical affection?

“(y/n)!”

You flinch, not expecting anyone to call for you so early in the morning, and your walking route to school was never shared with another student as far as you were concerned. After all, your path was a little more obscured and unorthodox compared to the majority of students traversing the main neighborhood paths.

“Sorry… did I scare you?” You stop and turn to the source of the voice, only to be surprised when you see Kise himself. “Why do you look so surprised? Didn’t we agree on the time to meet up and walk to school together?”

“Oh… yeah…” In the midst of your thoughts, it seems that you forgot the arrangements you made with him yesterday evening. “My bad?”

“Oh, come on,” he gives a mock-hurt face with a hand to his chest. “Am I that forgettable, (y/n)?”

“N-No!” you immediately deny. You knew it was more like the other way around, the way constant thoughts of Kise preoccupy in your head too much. How can you ever forget him when he constantly runs through your mind everyday for so long? Kise merely gives a good-natured sigh before he changes the subject.

“Kidding,” he says, holding out a hand to you. “Seriously though, get your act together. We gotta start acting the part if we want this to work.” You stare at his hand, hesitating for a split moment before you put your own hand on top. His large hand easily encompasses yours, and the warmth makes you widen your eyes. It… felt nice.

You were so entranced by your linked hands that you failed to notice how Kise was staring at your face with a sharp glint in his eyes, but when you look up back to his face, he easily morphs his expression into his signature grin. He swings your hands around like an excited kid and turns to walk ahead to tug you along.

“Alrighty!~ Let’s hurry together before I get chewed out by Kasamatsu-senpai!”

“Kise, have you ever considered that it’s not really your tardiness that gets the captain mad but more so about the way you seem to irritate him with the way you skip around?”

“(y/n),” he says with a pout, “you know you’re not being convincing when you use my last name to address me as your boyfriend.”

“R-Right,” you stammer, still not used to the entire situation. “Ah… wait. Don’t you uh… call people who are close to you with -cchi?”

“Huh…” he mumbles, looking up at the cloudy sky before looking ahead of the path. “Not necessarily people who are close, just people who I really admire. I guess I addressed you like that yesterday without really thinking.”

“U-Uh, right… sorry.” He stops walking with your hand still in tow, and you almost bumped into his back at his sudden movement. He turns to you with a quite serious look.

“Do you want me to call you that?”

It was a normal question, but for some reason it felt like the next sentence coming from your mouth would make a huge impact on the way the two of you would interact in the future. From the way Kise looks at you with such a scrutinizing gaze, it feels like a trick question, and you’re not sure how to answer it. Your mouth goes dry when you try to reply.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Kise’s eyes widen a fraction before he gives an unexpected chortle. “Pfft… how do you not know what you want to be addressed as?”

“Arrgh, oh shut it!” you frown, hitting his arm in a fluster before stalking off ahead. You remember that you were supposed to go to school together, and you begrudgingly stop and turn back to wait for him to catch up. “Ryōta, just call me whatever you want. You’re already calling me by my first name, so I doubt anyone would care if you added -cchi or not.” Still, your cheeks turn pink at the realization that Kise would be uttering your first name for the next couple… whenever this relationship will last.

“You… wait up!” Kise wheezes dramatically, despite the both of you knowing full well how easily he can catch up to your stride. “You really shouldn’t be treating your boyfriend like that! Especially on the first day!” Kise holds your hand again to lead you to the rest of the way to school.

All the while, you’ve been staring at his back, your heartstrings being tugged so mercilessly at the cacophony of emotions you were feeling the whole time. He felt so warm, so inviting, but the way he held your hands felt cold and transactional.

———

You’re not sure how to react whenever Kise introduced himself as your “boyfriend” to everyone or whenever nosy students inquired about your new “boyfriend.” All you could do was gulp and manage the most convincing act you could do within different contexts. Smile, laugh, get bashful, be modest in talking about how Kise managed to “like” you, pretend you know many embarrassing stories and sides to him that no one else did. Truthfully, you were just as in the dark as anybody else.

You think the only reason why everyone bought the couple-act was due to how enamored you were in talking about him. This was the only response you could be truthful about. At least you could use your huge crush to your advantage in portraying yourself as the “lovey-dovey” half of the couple. Yet it feels unbelievably wrong.

You knew you had to prepare yourself some preset answers for curious students, but you didn’t expect yourself to be participating in neverending “interviews” in these social settings. You thought this relationship would entail a closer access to Kise’s true self, but things suggest otherwise.

“Ryōta,” you say, peering up at his face as the both of you walk down the hallway to your designated spot for lunch together. Even as you two walk, he puts a reasonable distance between the two of you when there is no one in close proximity. Even when you two are together, he only grabs your hand when it’s socially convenient. Even when Kise approaches you to talk, you know it’s never anything beyond for the sake of acting. And you agreed to this entire thing.

“Hm?” He spares a glance to your figure before returning his gaze ahead.

“Uh, I brought extra food today,” you say, trying to use this situation to try to express your genuine feelings to him in small increments. “I brought an extra bento box too… in case, you don’t wanna actually share one…” He was about to reply before a pair of students turned around the corner to head towards your direction. Kise narrows his eyes at the unexpected turn of events, and immediately turns to you brightly.

“(y/n)! You really thought that I wouldn’t like the idea?” he pouts. “Of course I wanna share a bento with you! Silly…” He slightly bends to your level to place a chaste peck on your forehead.

“Ah…” you freeze at his soft touch, your legs stiff in place as you stop walking. Kise, in response, moves his lips to your ears, and you slightly shiver at the unexpected intimacy… it was the closest he’s gotten to you ever since that public stunt when he kissed you in front of everyone the other day.

“Hey, don’t just stand there… you can’t overreact like this over something couples do everyday.” You bit your lip in an attempt to stop your heart from sinking from disappointment, but in turning your face to him to spill an apology, your face ended up right in front of his. Your eyes widen but he only stares at you with such an intensity that makes you hold your breath in anticipation.

But he immediately draws away and stretches with a yawn. “Looks like those people left right after they thought they intruded on a private moment between us,” he says. “Sheesh, people really do the most to be so nosy nowadays.” You wonder how he can be so casual about this all. Perhaps it was a mistake to be here like this when you were so in love with him, overthinking every single thing he did.

Why didn’t he kiss you this time? Did he not find you the teensiest attractive enough to want to kiss you even without an audience nearby?

“Come on,” he mumbles, waving a hand through your face. “Quit making that face. I won’t be doing that to you without warning anytime soon. My bad, okay?” Kise sheepishly holds out a hand for a handshake to make peace, and you wordlessly take his hand. One day, you’ll stop being his special someone to savor his warmth…

No, you thought, you’re an idiot… he’s never considered you as someone special.

You debated in telling him that you were fine with him kissing you, but you hold your tongue, afraid that he’ll realize your true feelings about him. Besides, were you really okay with him kissing you when he didn’t reciprocate the same feelings?

“It… wasn’t like what you think,” you hesitate. “It just caught me off guard.”

“Well,” he laughs. “That’s a relief! By the way…” He stops to settle himself on the bench. “What’s exactly your lunch? Since you went through the effort to bring extras, I guess I’ll eat them.”

“I packed salmon from leftovers I had from home,” you reply, taking out your bento box and utensils. You decide to shake off your negative thoughts and shove them to the back of your mind. He makes a horrified face at the lunchbox. “Kise, what’s wrong?”

“Do you… happen to have anything else packed?”

“Rice?”

“Well,” he coughs. “I’m not a fan of dishes with boned fish.”

“Didn’t you say you hated unagi too?” Kise shyly averts his gaze before he reluctantly confirms it so. “They’re delicious though! Especially when they’re grilled!” At first, he refused to answer, but the more you tried to poke and prod (literally too, at his ribs), he finally gave in.

“Alright, alright! But I swear, you better not tell anyone!… I choked on a fish bone one time…”

“… And?”

“And yeah.”

“You choked on a bone once and you got scared out of eating fish—”

“Shhhh!” he hushes, emphasizing his hiss with a finger to his lips. At this very moment, you saw a glimpse into who Kise really is, and you can’t help but bust out a genuine, carefree laugh for the first time in front of him. In embarrassment, he bonks your head with his fist to get you to stop laughing, but it only makes you more conscious of how close he is to you.

But just as quickly and telepathically, Kise puts some distance between the two of you, sitting closer to the edge of the bench. He opts to hunch over casually and keenly watch you scarf down your meal in minutes without a care.

You wonder if you should feel guilty for enjoying this moment with Kise, even if he was only waiting with you out of obligation of being your “boyfriend,” but right now, you allowed yourself to indulge, letting your heart beat sporadically without guilt and fear for once. You continue to savor your lunch in silence, concentrating on munching around the fish bones, while Kise sat in contemplation all the while.

———

“You should come watch our practice game today, (y/n).”

“Eh?”

You tilt your head at him in confusion. It’s been two weeks since you started this arrangement with him, but nothing extraordinary or groundbreaking happened between the two of you, much to your despondency. But you knew, you shouldn’t be asking for too much when you already have the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be close to him like this.

“There’s going to be a lot of people coming,” he explains. “Even if it’s just a practice game… it’d be weird if you weren’t there, because, you know, we’re dating.”

“I don’t mind going,” you reply. “It sounds fun.”

“You know, you’ve been agreeing to everything I’ve been suggesting the entire time,” he mumbles to himself, but he zips his mouth shut when he sees you instinctively moving closer to try to catch what he said. “Uh, in any case… just stop by the gym whenever you can.”

So here you are a few hours later, being the first person to settle yourself on top of the 2nd floor of the gym. You rest your arms on the railway, fascinated by the Kaijō basketball team and their skills. As they warm up on the courts, it’s the first time you see Kise truly at ease and happy with the people he cares about, and your heart pangs in jealousy seeing his genuine smile. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you realized the gym became completely crowded, the constant chattering announcing huge crowds along the entrance and the lucky watchers at the 2nd floor with you.

You didn’t mind the onlookers when all you were focused on was Kise throughout the entire game with a smitten look, and you weren’t surprised when his team easily won against the other local school.

“That’s Kise isn’t it?” You were about to turn to leave the higher floor to wait outside the gym when you heard his name. You stop to eavesdrop on the conversation next to you.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing about him way too much. Something about him dating now?”

“He’s dating (l/n) right now, which is super weird because they never even talked… and all of the sudden, they’re dating? I didn’t think of him to be into short-term flings.”

“You think he’s using (l/n) in some way? What an asshole.”

“Yikes. You’re probably not even that far off the bulls-eye. He’s a really heartless guy, from what I’ve heard.”

“Hey,” you interrupt, scaring the two girls out of their wits before they turn to you. “I don’t think you should talk about Kise like that when all you know of him is through speculation.”

“Ugh, here we go again with his fans…” one of them groans, rolling her eyes. “Look, I get it, he’s good-looking and all, but I don’t understand how you can defend him to death when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you… ah… shit, you’re (l/n)?” A flash of hurt was visible on your face for a split second before you frowned. Their words unintentionally hit the nail in the coffin.

“Whether I’m (l/n) or not doesn’t really matter,” you say angrily. “Gossiping about anyone like that isn’t something you should make a habit out of.”

“Jeez, let’s just leave,” the other girl whispers, dragging the first girl along.

You simply stand there watching them leave, but you can’t shake off what they said. They were right… how could you be so whipped for him when you know he’ll never see you the same way?

“Oy!”

Kise’s voice brings you back to your consciousness as he waves at you from the court. “You’ve been standing there for a while! Hurry up, or I’ll leave you behind, (y/n)-cchi!”

“Coming!” You race from the 2nd floor to the ground level to catch up to him, your heart pounding all the while. Did he… did he just…?

You shake your head before you reunite with him to walk home together. Stop it… don’t overthink it.

———

Kise waits at his usual spot to wait for you before walking to school together. It’s been three weeks since he’s approached you to “date.” He’s grown quite comfortable with this arrangement, being close to you and backing off when it’s convenient. After all, if you somehow showed a gruesome true self of yours, he’d be able to separate himself from you with no consequences… even if his heart would cry out not to.

“Ryōta!” There you are, running down the path towards him so cheerfully. Could you really be an awful person when you have such a pure smile like that?

“Ah, (y/n)-cchi,” he says. “We should hurry if we wanna be inside campus. It’s a little chilly today, so being indoors sounds really nice right now.” He peers over to your face to see your nose slightly red from the cold, and he huffs out a chuckle, noting the warm puff of air escaping from his own lips.

“I guess it’s a little cold today,” you say, looking up at Kise with a slight childish wonder. “Hey, that’s a pretty cool cloud that you puffed out.”

“You have some clouds around you too.” He gently smiles, and he notes that your eyes widen at the sight of him. “Wha? Is my face that horrific, (y/n)-cchi?” You avert your gaze as your cheeks grow just as red as your nose.

“Nah… i-it’s nothing…ah—” He holds your cheeks to turn your face back to him, and he draws near with a serious gaze, bumping his forehead against yours.

“You’re actually really cold…”

“Uh, um… I don’t think I’m c-cold anymore—” you stammer, your eyes darting to look everywhere but his face, and Kise’s eyes only scrutinize your behavior further.

“Hm, if you say so…” he mumbles. Your eyes flutter close at the anticipation, and he feels the pull towards your lips, closing his own lids shut…

Wait, what was he thinking? He snaps his lids open and slightly draws himself away to look at you, still vulnerable with your closed eyes. It’s only when he drops his hands from your cheeks and turns to walk ahead when you flutter your eyes open again. Don’t let your feelings for (y/n) blind you into figuring out who they really are.

“Come on,” Kise calls out to you. “We should get going… we don’t wanna be late.” Besides, what if there’s a possibility that you don’t really like him at all?

“Y-Yeah…”

The rest of the walk was in silence, with Kise slightly ahead of you. Perhaps if he turned around at least once to check on you, he would’ve seen the consequences of his actions.

You were silently crying the entire walk.

———

Nothing seems to change much for the entire month. The way the two of you dance and sway around each other, while never being too close, never being too affectionate, never being completely honest. In this shared rose-tinted world, the frail glass that holds these moments together threatens to break with every fickle interaction. Every shared kiss constitutes another small crack to the rose-tinted crystal.

And both of you are content with just the way things are.

Or that’s what you both mutter to yourselves like a mantra.

“Ryōta!” you call out to him. “Did you wait long?”

“Not really,” he says. “I just barely got out too… the teacher was really lenient on dismissal today, actually.” His heart swells at the sight of you as usual, but just as quickly, he’s always managed to quash his emotions in check.

For the first time, you initiate physical touch with him without hesitation, linking your hands with his and snuggling up to him. He flinches, not fast enough to process the sudden warmth of your body, and he immediately separates himself from you. Do you actually like him after all?… No, something is up, right?

“Ryōta…?” You flinch just as severely from the sudden reaction, and he turns to avoid looking at your face, knowing that his resolve would crumble right in front of you. He’s a coward, and he fucking knows it.

“S-Sorry, (y/n)-cchi! I don’t know what came over me like that, but you know you don’t have to force yourself to do things like that, right? There’s no one here, so let’s just walk home together like we always do, yeah?”

He turns to already walk ahead, too afraid of hearing your response and hoping you would follow and catch up to him… like you always do.

You simply stood there for a few moments, anguish clear as the sky above you as you keep telling yourself to manage your own expectations. Still, your voice croaks out quietly to respond to him, even if you knew he wasn’t going to hear it.

“… But I wanted to do these things with you, Ryōta.”

———

It’s been several days since that incident.

It was very awkward for the most part, the walks to and from school silent and suffocating. He’s not quite sure how to go about it while trying not to sound disingenuous about it. Nonetheless, even through his quiet apology, your face still lights up, and he’s confused about why you would ever be so forgiving of him.

Although today, lines have been crossed and this shared secretive world between the two of you have completely shattered to the point of no return.

It was quite a blur, an instinct that Kise has developed over the course of this relationship. Every time a group of students drew near, he was always ready to tug you close for a kiss until they left and carry on with their day. Today was usually no exception.

Another group of students was hanging around the corner, presumably spying on you two, and Kise did what he’s always done, grabbing your hand and embracing you for a kiss. Your eyes were blown open in surprise, but when you saw Kise’s eyes elsewhere, something finally snapped inside.

You push him away at his chest.

“U-Unagi… unagi…” Your voice trembles, and you use your arms to cover up the fresh tears. The code word sounds unbelievably stupid out of context, but at this moment, the word alone stabs Kise in his chest. “I-I… just stop… please.” Kise stares dumbly at you, processing the fact that you just used the agreed safe word against him.

“… (y/n)-cchi?” Kise asks with a confused smile. “You’ve never objected to kissing before… I’ve even told you what we’ll be doing if you agreed to this…?”

“How…” you choke on tears. “H-How can you kiss me like that while your eyes are on someone else…?”

“I don’t understand—”

“A-Am I that atrocious to kiss unless you stare at something else or there’s some convenience?”

“I don’t get it, (y/n)-cchi,” he frowns. “Did you expect more out of this or am I missing something?”

“There was no reason to kiss me like that,” you softly wail. “Everyone already knows we’re a thing for… o-over a month now. There’s no reason to kiss me around people anymore when they won’t suspect us anyways…”

“So you don’t want me to kiss you anymore?” Kise’s heart sinks in thinking about where this is going.

“No!—you don’t… you don’t fucking get it! I don’t get it—! Why are we doing this anymore—I just, I see no reason to continue this anymore… you already shooed off your fans, right? Why haven’t you ended this?!”

“(y/n)-cchi—I…” He reaches out for you, but you immediately recoil.

“No—please… no more, I can’t do this anymore!” you sniffle. “I can’t fucking do this… I’m done, I’m tired—please… just look for another person to take my place… I… I’m done—I can’t pretend with you anymore when I always expect more out of it like a love-stricken fool!”

“I…”

“Look—see,” you choke. “I’m just like everyone else who’s in love with you, I’m no different than everyone else R-Ryōta… so that’s why, I-I… can’t do this anymore!”

Kise stands there, staring at you running away from him. It was like everything had gone silent, save for the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

“You think he’s using (l/n) in some way? What an asshole.”

“Yikes. You’re probably not even that far off the bulls-eye. He’s a really heartless guy, from what I’ve heard.”

He hated rumors, he really did… but for the first time, he feels like he deserves every word thrown at him around the hallways and classrooms. His memory flits to the time when he felt warm from seeing you standing up for him, even if he wasn’t bothered by them before. Now, the warmth is replaced by agonizing regret and guilt wracking through his entire body. His hands feel cold with you gone from his side.

What has he done?

———

He’s grown quiet for the next week.

It’s been a week since you ran from him, and it’s been a week since he last talked to you.

Even his teammates were concerned about his reserved behavior, but just as always, he’s managed to shoot them a convincing smile. Kasamatsu was more persistent about this but eventually dropped it seeing Kise’s refusal to talk about it.

That day when you pushed him away, he couldn’t sleep, his thoughts keeping him awake the entire night. He resolved himself to talk to you the next day… but he changed his mind the last minute… and then he told himself he’d do it the next day… and then he changed his mind again.

He tells himself that it’s because you rightfully hate him, with the way you’d surround yourself with other crowds and groups to prevent him from walking up to you when you were alone. He tells himself that it’s because both you and him needed space to cool off and go back to the way you two were. He refuses to tell himself that it’s because he’s an honest-to-god coward.

He misses you. He misses you damn badly. Why the fuck did he go through such lengths instead of confessing to you straight up? He tells himself that he was being cautious. He tells himself that he doesn’t want his heart to be broken again. He refuses to conclude that it’s because he’s a fucking coward.

“I don’t know what’s been on your mind, idiot,” Kasamatsu says. “But you better solve this yourself quickly if you’re not opening up to me about this. We can’t have your performance quality be dropping even in practice. Hurry up and fix this shit with (l/n)-san already.”

“H-How’d you know?!” Kise raises his head from his desk in astonishment.

“Tch, idiot,” he glowers, chopping Kise’s head with a swift hand. “It’s too obvious from the way you’re moping around… from the way you two stuck together all this time, who wouldn’t notice something happened from the way you’re at your desk watching (l/n)-san like that?”

“O-Ow…” Kise grumbles rubbing his head. Ironically, his captain’s hit cleared up his doubts and he took a deep breath before exhaling. “Got it, senpai.”

“You better.” Kasamatsu goes back to talking to his classmates during break, and even despite not knowing the truth of the relationship, he manages to give solid advice as usual.

Tomorrow. He’ll find you tomorrow.

———

He doesn’t know where else to find you alone other than the place he’s always waited for you before you two used to walk to school together. So he stands there, almost an hour earlier in case you had the idea to walk to school extremely early to avoid him at all costs.

He was right.

Here you are, shuffling your feet as you trudged yourself along the path and looking down at your feet. You even manage to walk past by him without noticing his presence.

Even if you’ve grown to hate him, he’s willed himself to come completely clean about his feelings to you for once. But a part of him is thinking to change his mind again and just let you slip away from his fingers. It’d spare the both of you the inevitable, right?

“R-Ryōta…?”

He was pulled from his thoughts, startled to see you staring at him from a short distance away. Apparently you did notice him after all.

“… (y/n)-cchi…” He swallows his words, knowing full well that his stupid words might blow this up for him again, his words responsible for all the rumors at school, his words responsible for hurting you and will hurt you again.

He wordlessly walks up to you and holds your cheek, and waits. He waits for you to push him away again. He waits for you to say the code word to let him know that you don’t want him near you again. The thought of you running away from him nearly brings him to tears, but he gulps his emotions down and stares at you calmly, with only his upturned brows hinting to his inner turmoil.

“Ryō—”

He swiftly brings his head down and kisses you. In feeling the warmth for the first time in a while, he greedily drinks from your lips, holding your temples more firmly as he searches for more, more, more.

You push him away.

Kise immediately lets go and stares at you like a lost child, unable to mask the devastation from the implications of your actions. But you’re still gripping his uniform tightly, almost as if you didn’t want to let go.

“W-Why…?” you croak, biting your lips to stop any tears from breaking through. “There’s no reason to kiss me. Don’t you know that we’re done? There’s no one to watch us here, no reason for you to walk me to school anymore. You know that, Ryōta. After all, we haven’t talked since a week ago, and you have the audacity to come here and kiss me like everything is okay—”

“… I want to kiss you, because there’s no one around, because there’s no other reason for me to.”

“Why…?” your voice softens to a whisper. “Don’t you hate anyone who likes you in that way? I… I already told you that I see you in that light, like many of your fans do. Don’t you hate me? Don’t you hate me for using this arrangement to get closer to you? Don’t you hate me for expecting something real out of this?”

“I already had an inkling of suspicion that you liked me, (y/n)-cchi,” Kise turns away to look at the bright morning sky. “I just didn’t know if I was wrong or not.”

“Then… why did you ask me to do this whole thing with you…?”

“Because I’m a coward,” he says, looking back to you. You were stunned into silence. For the first time, he finally admits what’s been weighing on his mind for weeks out loud, and his eyes, while drenched in shame, were full of resoluteness. “I liked you, but I was too afraid for the day when you ended up being not like the person I ended up liking. I liked you, but I was afraid of a real relationship that would tie me down. I liked you, but I was afraid of making huge decisions that involved another person into my life. I didn’t want to end the fake relationship because I was too fucking selfish… if I ended it, I’d lose the only connection I had with you… I’m sorry.”

Both of you went silent, bathed in the light of the rising sun. Kise drops to a squat to hide his face from you, and you knew he was trying to stop himself from tearing up. He knows how uncool he looks, but he had no right to cry when you were the one who got hurt the most.

“Ryōta, did you really find it difficult to kiss me…? Just… be honest.”

“Yes,” he looks up from his squat to stare at you with an intense look, even despite his puffy eyes. “Everytime I kissed you, I found it hard to control myself. I thought, what if you were using me to somehow get a kiss from me? or what if I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you and I ended up taking things too far? Looking anywhere but you at least stopped me from getting too invested…”

By now, both of you had turned completely red at his honesty, but he still found you frankly stunning even with your red, puffy eyes. “Look, (y/n)-cchi, don’t you hate me? I used you. The rumors are right—I’m a complete asshole. Just… I won’t blame you if you walk away right now.”

“You do know that I used this opportunity to get closer to you, right?… I wasn’t a saint about this either, so… I’m sorry too.” Both of you go silent again, and you slowly drop yourself to his level in a squat of your own in front of him.

“… C-Can we… can we start over?” you whisper, your warm breath tickling his chilled nose.

“(y/n)-cchi, I don’t think I’m capable of continuing this arrangement…”

“No,” you huff, before you tentatively press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I mean… can we… start over, but this time, as a real couple? I… want this relationship to be substantial. I really do like you, Ryōta.” You murmur against his lips with your hands on top of your knees, waiting for him to rebuke you away with an easygoing comment or a plastered smile.

But he doesn’t do any of that.

“I… guess we can try that,” Kise mumbles, gaze averted as his cheeks flame brighter than his nose and ears.

“Can you kiss me again?” you ask, your voice cracking at the end out of fear he’d turn down your request. Kise flicks his gaze back to you to see you equally red with a hesitant expression.

“Could you… close your eyes?” he asks with a frown.

“H-Huh?”

“Y-You don’t need to see me looking like a mess, I don’t look charming right now.”

“I… guess…” After a few moments of hesitation, you flutter your eyes shut, waiting apprehensively for his lips to descend onto yours again. Kise holds your cheeks and takes the time to admire your features for the first time, and his smile grows wider with every passing second.

‘R-Ryōta…?” Afraid of the fact that he actually may not like kissing you after all, you worriedly open your eyes, only to be greeted by the most brilliant smile from Kise, his figure illuminated by the sunshine hitting the back of his head at the perfect angle.

“(y/n)-cchi,” he teases with a small pout. “Didn’t I tell you to close your eyes?”

Who needs a rose-tinted lens when the sight before you is already so radiant to behold?

[creativelyderangedme]

Checking Sources

I’m taking a stab at the trope I’ve seen all over the place recently. But with a different twist. Oneshot - might continue if I get the desire.

“Ladybug?”

Paris’ spotted heroine jumped slightly after being pulled from her thoughts. She’d been staring out over the city’s glittering lights, lost to the maelstrom of voices and recalled memories swarming her mind with a thoughtful (at least she hoped it was) frown on her lips. So much so, that she hadn’t noticed when her leather-clad partner had shown up to sit next to her on a night he was supposed to be taking off.

When the hell had he gotten there? She wondered, looking around quickly for any indication of how long she’d been stuck in her own head. 

“Hey Chaton, what are you doing out here? It’s my night to patrol.” She asked as another entirely panicked thought came to mind - that she’d been so dazed she’d missed the tell-tale signs of an Akuma.

But, before she could freak out any further, she took in Chat’s relative ease - or at least, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of jumping into a fight. He did seem apprehensive, though. She could tell in the way it tensed and squeezed his shoulders together like he wanted to be close, but wouldn’t dare come in contact with her.

Which made her wonder if she’d said or done anything recently to give him the idea he was overstepping his bounds. Or maybe he was mad at her for something? And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake that was her day? 

First, Lila had caused a major scene that got Marinette detention for the rest of the week (it all happened so fast, she barely remembers what the hell had even happened). Now she was having a panic attack over whether her partner was mad at her for something she didn’t remember doing? Who else was she going to piss off today?

“What’s your stance on sharing your identity?”

Panic attack on momentary pause, a dark brow shot up at the question, and if she wasn’t so wary of the way he’d said it with that uncomfortable look on his face, she probably would have been angry. But he seemed so off tonight that it was throwing her usual emotions for a loop. So, choosing not to go off on her partner, she sighed heavily, trying to keep her focus on him despite the bubbling irritation, “Chat, I’m sorry, but we’ve talked about this. Our identities are a secret for a reason.”

For the first time since he sat down (she thinks), she sees him glance her way if only slightly. The uncomfortable look on his face had softened a bit but he still has something unreadable in his eyes that makes Ladybug anxious, “So... you’ve never shared your identity? With anyone? Not accidentally or otherwise?”

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say his words were a little accusatory. 

Which, okay first off, what the fuck? And second, why was he suddenly giving her the third degree? 

Again, though, the entire display was throwing her and she knew she had to be rational about this. 

“No. Of course not. I promised you didn’t I? Once Hawkmoth was defeated, you would be the first person I told.” She stated as calmly and resolutely as she possibly can. She’d been clear from the start where she stood on the subject. 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Chat Noir visibly relaxed. Shoulders slumping and a breath heaving from his chest as he nodded, “Right. Right, of course.” He finally managed to turn to look at her and the discomfort was quickly hidden by a small smile.

The shift in his attitude was almost as disconcerting as his arrival.

“What is this about, Chatton?”

That smile faltered a bit as he looked away from her again, “There’s this-” he began but his words died before he shook his head, “No, it’s - it’s nothing. Sorry for bothering you about this. It was stupid.” 

Chat made to stand, but Ladybug caught his wrist before he could get away, “Obviously not if it brought you out here as upset as you looked. I know I can be a real stickler about the secret identities thing, but Chat, I’m not doing this to hurt you. I promise!” She implored, feeling like she’d missed something major. “If you’re being hurt or-”

Blonde hair flew as he shook his head quickly, “No, no. Nothing like that. Really. I know why you do. I won’t pretend it doesn’t suck, but I get it. Really, I do.” He tried to assure her, and while it did seem like he understood and he was being honest with her, he was still hiding something. Something that had driven him to come out and ask her these strange questions.

“Then what was all of this about?”

He had the decency to look apologetic at least as the corners of his mouth pulled up and he shook his head again, “It’s too personal - talking about it might give me away, Bugaboo, but I really am sorry about this. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ladybug’s eyes darted back and forth as she watched him closely, but eventually, hesitantly, she let go of his wrist and allowed him to get up.

The whole conversation left an unsettling anxiousness over her and a rather uncomfortable tenseness in the air between them as he backed away and saluted before she even had the chance to say anything - disappearing into the night.

That unease followed her home and through her restless sleep and when she woke up the next morning, she couldn’t help but let it consume her thoughts. Distracting her as she made her way to class earlier than usual.

Distracting her so much, in fact, that she almost didn’t notice the crowd gathered around two individuals crammed into her usual seat next to Alya giggling and talking loudly.

Almost.

As much as she hated it, Marinette had developed something of a sixth sense for the Italian exchange student Lila Rossi. A personal radar to warn her of the liar’s presence.

And it was going off big time.

It wasn’t uncommon for Lila to try and steal her spot when she could. Usually, it resulted in some sort of argument between Marinette and Alya when her supposed best friend defended the other girl for just wanting to hang out, and why didn’t she try being nice to the girl for once?

This time, though, Marinette was quickly made aware of three things:

1. Lila wasn’t alone.

2. Whoever this other girl was, she and Lila were already very close and that didn’t bode well for anyone - especially Marinette.

3. Adrien, who was an unfortunate captive in the crowd around his desk, looked really uncomfortable - more so than usual as he openly frowned at the desktop in front of him, trying not to associate with the things going on around him.

What the hell was going on? Marinette had only been gone from class for one afternoon! 

Alya was the first to notice her entrance to the class, giving her an unsure look from her seat (she had been pretty mad at her yesterday for whatever it was that landed her detention for the week), causing a ripple effect as Lila and her ‘guest’ looked up at her too, quieting down and catching everyone else’ attention.

The unfamiliar girl sized the noirette up before speaking, “Is this the girl you were telling me about?”

Lila put on her biggest, fakest, puppy-dog eyes and nodded softly, watching Marinette like she might lunge at her any second now. 

Like parting the red sea, the unfamiliar girl stood from her place at Marinette’s desk and the crowd around her gave her room to move, allowing her to make her way to stand haughtily before her. The girl was a tad taller than Marinette, but the platform sandals she wore made it so Marinette would need to look up at her slightly. She had dark, almost black, shoulder-length hair that hung loosely, but the color of her brows made it clear that it wasn’t natural. She’d dyed it, recently too, if the lack of root discoloration was any indication.

Marinette watched her approach with a raised brow, unimpressed by the superior gleam to the girl’s blue-green eyes.

“I heard you’ve been bullying my best friend.” She said, authoritatively, her hands propped on hips clad in Gabriel branded jeans.

There was a collective gasp among her classmates like this was some big reveal in a soap opera. 

The class rep merely blinked a moment, brow still raised because who the fuck even was this girl and why was she squaring up to her like she even had a chance? Actually, no, she didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Marinette asked, but her tone gave away how few fucks she actually gave about the girl’s answer.

“For your information, it’s Bianca. I just transferred yesterday. But don’t change the subject. I’ve heard that you’ve been bullying my best friend Lila.”

Before Bianca had a chance to say any more, Marinette gave her a deadpanned look, “Well, sorry to inform you, but your best friend is a liar.”

Lila could immediately be heard breaking out into sobs somewhere in the background but Marinette was quickly losing interest in this conversation. 

“I don’t think she is. I think you’re the liar. In fact, I think people like you are what’s wrong with Paris. Always trying to hurt others so they get Akumatized and I have to clean up your mess.”

I’m sorry, what? 

That had Bluebell eyes snapping to focus on the girl in front of her. Interest piqued. 

“I’m giving you one chance. Stop being a menace to society or my partner and I will take action.”

There was quite a bit to unpack from that. Like... a lot. Menace to society? Partner? Take action?

Who did this girl think she was? Ladybug?

The one thing that seemed clear to Marinette after reviewing the word choices in her own head a few times, was that this was not a friendly recommendation.

“Are you threatening me?”

She probably should have sounded a little angrier. In fact, anything would have been better than bored. But she just couldn’t find the energy. 

A triumphant smile spread over Bianca’s face, as she disregarded the lack of fear in Marinette’s voice, “I don’t threaten people. But that is a promise.”

Marinette was left to blink at her a little longer. 

Because what even was happening here? What on earth had she done that the universe saw fit to drop this steaming pile of bull on her morning?

And why did it feel like the girl was hinting at something she wasn’t picking up on? Why was her body telling her that she needed to react while her brain was taking its sweet time to catch up with everything?

“Dude,” someone from the peanut gallery stage whispered, finding it in their heart to give her a helping hand, “That’s Ladybug!”

Lila shushed them loudly, “Guys, not everyone is supposed to know! We don’t know who we can trust!”

Oh.

oohhhhh!

Wow. When she’d made that comment in her head before, she’d been joking but... seriously? Did she really just?

“You’re Ladybug?” Marinette asked, wanting to clarify and make absolutely certain that she hadn’t just imagined that last forty-five seconds of her life.

Bianca’s chin raised, literally looking down her nose at Marinette, “Normally I wouldn’t share that information with someone like you.”

Behind her, Adrien stood from his seat looking absolutely livid, but Marinette barely had a moment to even register the malice in the gaze he pointed at Bianca before - 

Pfft...

Marinette covered her mouth with her hand to stop it, but nothing could hold back the onslaught now. 

They were giggles at first, tumbling from her in waves as she tried to clear her throat and treat this seriously. But before long, she couldn’t help it. She was laughing out loud, doubling over, completely ignorant (maybe not completely, but she didn’t care at this point) to the looks of confusion on the faces around her.

She made the mistake of looking back up at Bianca and that only renewed her laughing fit until it literally brought her to her knees, clutching her sides as she laughed so hard she cried.

Fucking cried.

It was a solid five or six minutes before she could breathe again. Sitting back up, wiping the tears from her eyes, she beamed at the girl standing awkwardly before her, “Wow. Thanks. I really needed that.”

She cleared her throat, clearly unsure of the strange behavior. She couldn’t blame her for that. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“All of it. Really.” She stood up from the floor, making a show of dusting off her pants before turning her full attention back on the girl. 

Because this was going to be fun.

“So, Ladybug, tell me this; if I’m such a menace to society, why would you entrust me with a miraculous?”

Bianca's smirk faltered, her eyes darting over to Lila for a moment, both of them looking a little lost for words. As was everyone else for that matter.

Even Alya, whose mouth hung open at this revelation. But the reporter flew to her phone, swiping quickly, "when?! There were no new heroes! How do we know you're not lying?"

Oh good. They were playing right into it. One thing you could always count on with sheeple... they always follow.

"Huh, well, then I guess if you can’t believe me at my word, it would be pretty easy to fact check." Her tone was a bit forced on those words and the reporter had the decency to look taken aback, "You could always just ask Ladybug, here."

"Well I-"

"Or you could ask her partner. Seeing as how he saw me transform."

Bianca's mouth snapped shut. It was still hit or miss whether or not Marinette was bluffing. And it's easy to claim something like that when the only other person who could confirm or deny the facts was not present.

This had been Lila’s game the whole time. The difference was, Marinette wasn’t lying.

But neither of them could take that chance.

Because neither of them knew what she knew.

And Ladybug was definitely in this room, but it wasn’t who they all thought it was.

"I asked her to give you a chance. Because I wanted to help you. I thought being a hero would make you a better person. But you just kept bullying me!"

"E-exactly."

Ah, so they were going to go this route, hmm? She could work with that. And given Lila’s proclivity for being Akumatized, maybe she could mess with Hawkmoth too while she was at it. 

Because it was only a matter of time before someone was targeted.

"How very generous of you, Lila," She said in her sweetest voice possible, but even to her own ears, it sounded fake. How did Lila keep this up all the time? “But, that’s not what you said on the tower when we fought that Akuma together.”

"What did you think I would say when you were obviously unfit to be a Hero! I didn’t want to risk you turning on me.”

“You didn’t think I was unfit when I helped save you and Chat Noir.” This time, it felt a little more realistic when she put the hurt look on her face, glancing away.

In the process, she caught sight of Adrien giving her a strange look. One she couldn’t really put a name to. But it was different than all of her other classmates. Why did he seem so much more confused than the others? 

The girl scoffed, "leave my partner out of this." She demanded, and it felt like a desperate attempt at redirecting the conversation. 

Fine. She could work with that too.

"You... do know that your 'partner' is my best friend, right?" She turned an apologetic look to Alya she only half meant, "sorry Als, but - you know," Marinette pointed between the two of them indicating the distance that had grown between them. They weren't nearly as close as they'd used to be. And while they were still friends, Marinette had a hard time categorizing her as her 'best friend'.

And the implication wasn't wasted on the reporter either. She was left staring wide with bewilderment and hurt. But Marinette was less positive it was because of not being best friends anymore and more that she hadn't told Alya that she spent time with one of the heroes she loved to chase.

"My partner would never hang out with someone like you."

God, she was just a broken record, wasn’t she? Did she really still think she was bluffing?

With a scoff and a soft shake of her head, Marinette pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped through her pictures until she found what she was looking for.

She wasnt trying to be smug about the way she flipped her phone around so she could show the class, but she definitely couldn't help the little smirk that pulled at her lips as the class gasped again, pulling closer so they could study the photo.

A photo of her and Chat Noir sitting a little too close together on her chaise lounge. Marinette sticking her tongue out at the camera, while chat gave the overly kawaii victory peace sign over his left eye like he was straight out of an anime. It was one of her favorites. They'd spent nearly the whole night binging on shows together after a particularly stressful day. The pictures had been a side effect of too much sugar, not enough sleep, and good company. And for some reason when Chat found out she’d been Multimouse, that increased her ‘coolness factor’ and they had something in common.

Of course, she couldn’t tell him that wasn’t the only thing they had in common.

Either way, it had brought them closer together as friends and they hung out often. 

Which was a reprieve given that most of her friends had abandoned her anyway. 

As Bianca stared a little blankly at the picture, a number of voices all began to pick up around them.

"You're actually friends with chat noir? That's so cool!"

“Does that mean you hang out with the other heroes too?”

“What is Chat Noir really like?”

"Wait, then that means you really were a hero? I thought heroes had to keep their identities secret."

That’s the one she’d been waiting on. Quickly silencing the others with a pointed look back at Bianca, "They do. But I'm not a hero anymore, am I Ladybug?"

"I-I..."

"Why was it again that I’m not allowed to be Multimouse again?" She put a thoughtful finger to her chin, but she felt her own fire building in her core, “I’m pretty sure it was nothing to do with being a menace to society.”

She tapped her chin a few more times, looking around deep in thought. Catching another glimpse of Adrien studying her carefully, but she refused to let his perfectness distract her because fuck these people.

Fuck the high road.

If he was going to be mad at her for standing up for her alter-ego then fuck him too.

But he didn’t seem mad. 

In fact, as soon as she locked eyes with him, a slight smirk pulled at his lips. It was roguish and totally out of place on his angelic face, but goddamn did it do things for her.

But the smirk paired with the slightly raised brow aimed at her said, ‘Yes, what did Ladybug say?’

It’s sarcastic and playful and familiar in ways her heart is not ready to admit.

But that would have to come later.

Marinette spun back to the imposter, narrowing her eyes dangerously, "Oh right! Because I'd accidentally revealed my identity to Chat Noir. Because identities are supposed to remain a secret."

"W-well th-there are exceptions!" Bianca tries to defend, but Marinette isn’t going to let her.

“No, I think you, just like your supposed best friend, are a liar. You’re not Ladybug. You don’t know a damn thing about Ladybug. Because if you were, you’d already have been beaten. You’ve been in this classroom all of what, one day? And the entire class already knows your ‘identity’? We’re all lucky you aren’t one of the heroes, otherwise, Hawkmoth would already have won!”

She was fuming now. All of the emotions finally catching up with her. She thrust an accusatory finger at Bianca, making the girl stumble back slightly, “You don’t know a damn thing about what it takes to be a hero. What they have to sacrifice to keep people safe. Besides, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t even know each other's identities - why the hell would Ladybug share something like that with a classroom full of people who’ve been Akumatized at least once and not share that with her own partner?!”

Whatever fear she’d instilled in the new girl quickly swapped for something much closer to fury as she reclaimed her balance and advanced on Marinette with a fire burning in her eyes. “How dare you call me a liar, you little fucking brat!” 

Surprised at the outburst, Marinette didn’t move when she saw Bianca raise her hand to strike her, instead, closing her eyes and bracing for the blow.

A blow that never connected. 

A gasp brought Marinette to peak open her eyes before they widened at the scene.

Bianca stood where she had previously, hand raised and poised to strike. But just behind her, Adrien had moved - impossibly quick, seriously when the hell had she gotten up? - and grabbed the girl’s arm, hand clutching tightly at her, keeping her still.

“A-Adrien!”

“That’s enough.” He hissed at her, voice low and threatening. “If it wasn’t clear before, it definitely is now. You’re not Ladybug. She would never raise a hand to a civilian like that!”

“B-but - !” Lila tried to come to her ‘friend’s’ defense but was silenced when he shot her an equally terrifying look.

“I’ve had enough of you trying to turn everyone against Marinette. I knew you both were lying when you ‘accidentally’ revealed Ladybug’s identity to me yesterday, but I didn’t have proof to prove it. You’ve been lying to everyone about everything!”

Wait... The way he’d said accidentally... why did it seem so familiar? 

Her thoughts of the blonde-haired, green-eyed model were very suddenly replaced with thoughts of a similarly blonde-haired, green-eyed superhero who’d come looking for her on his night off, asking if she’d ever ‘revealed herself, accidentally or otherwise’.

“Adrien! Y-you’re hurting me!”

Marinette’s eyes were drawn to the boy’s hand, still tightly clutching Bianca’s in a vice grip that would likely leave bruises.

But that’s not what she was focused on. Instead, it was the familiar shape of his silver ring that drew her eye. Familiar because she’d seen him wear it since the first day she’d met him and never took it off. 

Except for the day they’d done the shoot for her website.

The day she and Chat had to switch Miraculouses.

Adrien.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Her kitty had been there the entire time.

That’s why he’d been so angry. That’s why he’d looked so upset. That’s why he’d come looking for her and asking such strange questions!

Because Lila and her lackey had chosen the one person who’d know for a fact that they were lying.

And if she thought she couldn’t love him any more than she already did, she was sorely mistaken.

“What is going on in here?!”

Great.

She didn’t pay much attention to the chaos that ensued after Madame Bustier had walked in the room. Lila and Bianca had claimed Marinette attacked and Adrien had stepped in to help her and they were both sent to the hall because a number of people started speaking up and coming to their defense, suddenly not blinded by Lila’s lies any longer.

But now, she was standing in the hall next to her crush and her partner. 

“I’m so sorry Marinette.”

Her thoughts came to a startling halt as she turned wide eyes on him.

“I shouldn’t have ever told you not to call her out. I was stupid. I just hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

Marinette couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, because how could she not have noticed? Model or not, that was the heart of her partner beating in that beautiful body of his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Adrien. Besides, at least you checked your sources.” She chuckled, finding so much irony in that statement. If he hadn’t come looking for her, she probably wouldn’t have put it together.

He turned a confused look on her.

The smile she turned on him in return was brighter than she’d given anyone in some time, “I told you, didn’t I? You’d be the first to know.”

[winged-winter]

episode 3 'power-broker' in my opinion really exemplifies why this show has problems and i want to talk about it. this isn't about queerbaiting or sambucky so if you're looking for that, this is not the post for you.

it seems as though sam and bucky are being sidelined yet again, but this time, it’s not for the sake of other characters, it’s for the sake of the marvel machine.

the first two episodes work because they are character-centric. you get to see how sam and bucky interact with a post-blip, post-cap world. this is fascinating, and emotional, and interesting given how quickly the mcu tends to move. third episode throws this premise completely out the window AND everything you know about sam, bucky, and zemo, with pretty much zero explanation.

some people have said it’s plot filler, and it certainly is that, but i think what’s not being discussed is how their motivations for even giving a shit about the ‘flag-smashers’ are super stupid.

okay, let’s start with sam: why does sam even care that other people have the super soldier serum?? we are told multiple times the world is "upside down." why, then, is sam’s number one priority catching a small group of people handing out vaccines? and also, the two characters he is shown as being closest with, steve and bucky, both have the serum. so why is he so hostile to the idea of anyone else having it? because they robbed a bank and communicate on internet forums?? the mere fact of someone appearing to be enhanced is what prompts sam to investigate. not because they were attacking civilians or wreaking havoc, just the awareness of their existence. that does not make sense.

then, there’s bucky. bucky’s problem isn’t that the serum exists, it’s that it’s been abused, and people have suffered from being drawn into serum experiments. he clearly believes there’s some correct use for it, because he was totally fine with steve being captain america. the flag-smashers seem to be in great health, and completely in control of their own actions, and zemo has confirmed that they have nothing to do with HYDRA whatsoever. so why does bucky care?? again, because they were handing out some food and robbed a bank??

well, why does zemo care? zemo was concerned with the empty symbolism associated with superheroes. but the flag-smashers operate in relative underground obscurity. they have some notoriety, but they’re not mainstream, or believe in a sole charismatic leader. they all wear the same mask, for a reason. why does zemo give a shit? (recall, zemo's main problem was with steve and tony being careless and decimating sokovia! not that steve had super soldier muscles! he did not care! his enemy is more so sam and bucky than the flag-smashers.)

ASIDE from no one having a good reason for caring that the flag-smashers even exist, there's the problem of too many characters being introduced, too quickly, and with zero follow-up. two of the characters who give info in this third episode were both immediately shot in the head after they were useful. and leah, yori, isaiah, john, lemar, sarah, and dr. raynor also get sidelined. the people you are told matter or mean something in the first two episodes no longer matter nor mean anything!

okay, but that's fine, if there's a compelling reason why the flag-smashers are being centered, and their ideology is being more fully explained to the audience. except! it's not! explained! at all! here is what you are being told about the flag-smashers: 1) they don't want any national borders, which could mean any number of things, 2) they want things the way they were during the blip, which could again mean any number of things, 3) they want to give people food and medicine. people have been eager to ascribe a revolutionary affect to the flag-smashers, but their political agenda is unclear, at best.

on the other hand, the show is trying to tell us the global repatriation council is bad because it created the new cap and battlestar, and....what else? because they're holding some food in an ambiguous warehouse??????? so????? what???????? (not even getting into why it doesn't make sense they wouldn't give it out, if the people guarding the place are not personally gaining anything from holding it.)

carly said, "it seems like they care more about the people who came back than the people who were here this whole time." well, right. the people who blipped back do need some kind of support? that's apparent. the flag-smashers acknowledge themselves that the resettlement camps need supplies, which they then seek to obtain. so why is it so unbelievable and offensive that the grc exists? aside from the no borders thing and the new cap thing, how are they different from the flag-smashers????????????????

if it's some kind of point about bureaucracy being slow and stupid and overreaching, okay, that's fine, but they never make that clear. if it's some kind of point that it's just a new, shiny form of law enforcement that makes life harder, not easier, okay FINE, just tell me that's what's happening.

sam said, "it's imperative we stop them." stop them from doing what, exactly? lemar hoskins points out in this episode that they're not doing anything really harmful. yes, carly blows up that building to reaffirm to the audience this is the Bad Guy, but the characters you see guarding the supplies are not sympathetic so why should you, as the audience, care at all?

here's my concern: my concern is that there are only three episodes left to knit this all neatly together, and so much of that time will be spent explaining carly's backstory, having some dumb dramatic reveal of the power-broker, and zemo doing some stupid shit. i actually would not be surprised if one of those three episodes was mostly about carly, and shunted sam and bucky off to be in a sort of holding pattern.

this is just totally classic marvel, where they don't care about writing a complete show, just moving you from giant action set piece to giant action set piece with some banter in between, dropping all the minor characters through the cracks even though TV is different, and that is not supposed to happen. leah, isaiah, sarah, and yori represent four big unanswered questions. the show will literally be narratively incomplete if these storylines are not wrapped up in some way, and right now, they have been utterly abandoned in favor of chasing after a group who none of the mains would technically give a shit about.

i don't even want to get into the fact that "uh oh, someone has the serum/blood/magic juice" was a major plot point in the agent carter television show, and they have literally already played this song. but that's deemed all irrelevant because no one remembers the show.

there's a chance this will all be resolved, but you never know!!!!!!!!!! god.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Speak Up

A commission for @mintocchi ! Thank you so very much for your patience while I moved everything around :D

Summary: You and Crypto have been in a relationship for awhile now, and he's still got issues when trying to speak up for things that he wants. You always try to get him to voice his opinions and concerns, and somehow this leads to training him how via the bedroom. Or! In which Crypto needs to learn to stop being an actions over words guy or else you'll make him beg over and over again for what he wants.

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit Like :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Crypto/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and written with a vulva, they were originally supposed to be a cis gal but there’s no real language depicting them as strictly a gal!, Denial and forcing Crypto to beg and use his big boy words, P tame kink wise!

Words: 5k

___________________

Starstruck. 

That’s how you had first felt when you had met Crypto. 

You were a new camera operator on the set of the Apex games, someone who got all the good angles and made sure the drone cameras could really catch all the action. You’d met him the same season he’d been introduced, noting how he’d been cold and disregarding, yet appeared confident in himself. But his eyes, they’d been so...paranoid. Especially when you approached to introduce yourself as one of the camera operators. 

He’d regarded you with a short, quick nod. Odd, you’d thought. But that had quickly vanished when Elliott had taken you aside and chatted you up, an arm slung around your shoulder and a grin on his face. “Hey, don’t mind the kid, probably still jet lagged, dropships, bein’ legends and all- anyway sooooo I hear you operate those cameras now, huh? Make sure you get all my good angles- not that any of them are bad, just, you know, keep that attention on the money maker you feel me? The money maker being me, of course-” 

~Rest under the cut~

��Mirage.” Crypto’s voice had cut in between you two, watching as you both had turned and you could note his irritated look at Elliott before a much more apologetic one was glanced your way. “Apologies. He does not understand personal boundaries-” 

Elliott feigns a dramatic gasp, cutting Crypto off with his free hand against his own chest as if wounded. 

You stifle your laugh when Elliott keeps up the act, sputtering before pointing at Crypto accusingly. “Woah, woah, woah, I’ll have you know that I know this lovely thing. Used to be the tech head up iiiiiiin- audio, right?” He turns towards you after that, squeezing his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way as you beam at being remembered. 

“That’s right! I was actually hoping to speak to you, Crypto,” You gesture at him, noting Crypto’s light surprise of raised eyebrows before confusion and worry passes his features. Quick to overthink, huh? 

You’re quick to follow up to ease his possible fears. “N-not! Not as an employee, I mean, I just- your, uh, your drone. They kinda remind me of an old camera used back in the day and I was wondering if you had any tips or tricks I might be able to pick up on?” 

That’s what started the relationship in the first place. Crypto, that day, had offered merely a one shouldered shrug, but after Mirage giving him a look and whining to him like a puppy, he’d agreed. Resulting in you having your own private session with him as he helped you learn a few tips. You were already trained in operating the newer models, but having a few pointers never hurt. 

The entire time he’d asked questions about you, it almost felt like he was interrogating you rather than trying to start up curious small talk. But, to ease any fears he might have had about you having ulterior motives, you answered as honestly as possible to each one. Judging by his more paranoid nature, you didn’t ask any in turn for fear of him shying away. 

The least you wanted to do was make Crypto feel as though you were untrustworthy. 

As you two grew closer, the more relaxed he became around you. No more tips were to be given, so that excuse flew out the window, so you’d offered hang outs. It took a few tries until he finally mumbled he’d feel more comfortable in his room, which is where you two ended up being and you learned he had a sweet little cat named Isabella-Marie. 

You had smiled at her name, asking where he got the idea from, and he’d smiled softly- almost sadly when he’d said she was his sister’s cat he took in, but no more information. Said cat took to you nicely, and just as she had, Crypto started warming up to you as well. 

It was a slow, slow process. You took your time with him and learned that the personality he put on was nothing but a front. Something to keep more hidden. In private, he’s so soft, almost shy in his approach to you. He’s still got his sarcastic tongue, but he’s more playful when in private with you. Much like a cat. You see him opening up the slightest bit to people he’s starting to enjoy too- Elliott and Natalie both seem to have won some sort of favor with him. 

That friendship slowly worked its way into romantic. 

The first time you kissed him is with your hand cupping his cheek and his cheeks flushed red as his dark eyes flickered to your lips multiple times until you took initiative. It took a bit of coaxing to even get him to rest his hands on your waist, but once that had happened, it’s like he’d been so touch starved all his life. Clinging to you and sighing into your mouth as if he’d just sunken into bed after a long day. 

His need for touch didn’t surprise you considering when you offered hugs and snuggles that he’d melt into you and cling to you so tightly. Your height difference, with you being much shorter, made that kind of funny when he’d lean down to bury his face in your neck and you’d stand on your tiptoes to make it easier. All within a private setting- outside of these rooms, you were both strictly professional. 

Crypto’s name had been revealed to you not long after. Tae Joon Park. You both agreed that if you used it frequently that you might yell it in public, so it was reserved for more intimate moments or serious when you two were alone. You were mindful about switching his name, so you kept to using ‘Crypto’ in your head to ensure you wouldn’t fuck it up. 

Though, it never failed to delight you in hearing him sigh fondly when you’d mumble his name by his ear after a sweet kiss. 

Dates were more reserved for the bedrooms as well. You never minded that either, but sometimes on rare occasions, he’d don a mask and a hood so you two could go out. You could only imagine the type of anxiety those outings brought, but it always warmed your heart that he was willing to take a breath and push himself out to do these things for you. In turn, you would spend the nights with him, with his head on your chest and his arms squeezing around your middle. 

Crypto, you quickly find however, is really bad at vocalizing his desires. 

He’s a man of action, hardly using his words and if he did it was one worded or quick. You’ve been trying to help him on communication skills for both your sakes, but it’s more difficult on him. It doesn’t help that he’s quiet either, so sneaking up behind you to snake his arms around you normally results in you jumping and making a squeak sound. 

But it also meant that for more...bedroom activities, that he would use actions. You always knew when he wanted something, you weren’t blind to it, you just wanted to make 100% sure of what he wanted. Normally resulting in you straddling his lap, a hand around his neck and speaking low for him to tell you what he wanted. 

Crypto always got the cutest face anytime you took the reins and control. A healthy flush over his cheeks, his breathing heavier and his eyes pleading, but his mouth refusing. 

 Stubborn was a good way to put it. How his eyebrows would furrow and he’d whimper and buck his hips up, but not tell you what he wanted. It took a lot of trial and error to even get him to utter ‘please’ at times. Your poor baby. 

You especially found you liked teasing him. Learning quick that he liked nicknames like ‘Good boy’ and ‘Baby boy’. You enjoyed edging him, tying him up or even just making him cling to the sheets or his own hair as his hips humped the air and he sobbed without begging for you. Always trying so hard to convey in his body language what he wanted you to do. 

You found yourself mesmerized by his desperation at a lot of times. Where Crypto’s kiss flushed lips would part, his eyebrows knitted and his eyes frantic on you. His own hands gripping his hair to follow instructions on not to touch you as his hips thrust into the air and made his thick cock bob. 

Sometimes you wondered if he could cum just by humping the air alone. 

Another time, you’d always tell yourself, always so eager to hear that final sobbed out word of ‘Please’ before you would swing your legs over him and ride him hard and fast. Normally fit with cruel croons about what a sweet, pathetic little thing he looked like. Your very good boy. 

That’s what you were thinking of now as you sat on the couch in his quarters, waiting for him to return from his match in the arena. 

Isabella-Marie is happily purring in your lap as your hand strokes through her soft, strawberry blonde fur. You’ve set up there with a blanket over your lap that she’s kneading happily, the match Crypto had been in having ended about an hour ago. You could tell he was struggling, too much talking around him that was reflecting in his steps. 

He’d been in a team with Mirage and Wattson, both people you knew he liked being around, but unfortunately, they kept striking up conversation. Leading to Crypto being off his rhythm. But it was nice to hear him breathe out in amusement at their antics sometimes, caught on the audio feed with the announcers crooning about how it looked like he made some friends finally. 

They at least made it to the top three. Fighting valiantly to maintain their location on World’s Edge in the city. Mirage had gotten cocky when they’d knocked two of the opposite team, going up to finish them off and ending up with a shotgun in the back and a cracking snarl in the sky of Bloodhound. 

The rest is history. But, at least you knew Bloodhound wouldn’t be the type to gloat and act cocky if they caught Crypto- at least out loud. You’re glad it was them rather than Caustic. Bad blood ran deep between them, not to mention Natalie struggling herself with it all. You were glad her and Crypto could solve whatever issue it was that ran between them- one that not even you were aware of. 

Security and secrecy, Crypto had told you with apology in his eyes. You understood, some things were best kept secret. Especially in case you accidentally got caught up in a mess, you could genuinely say you had no idea what was happening in all the legends’ lives. 

The beep of the door being unlocked makes Isabella-Marie awaken, doing a stretch across your lap before she chirps and hurries to the door to greet Crypto. She curls around his feet as he removes his shoes at the door before entering any further into the room in the rest of his gear. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” You hear him tiredly coo downwards, hearing Isabella-Marie's delighted chirp as she’s scooped up, quickly followed by her loud motor engine of a purr. 

You slide off the couch, dressed in your lounging outfit of soft black sweatpants covered with cliché little green alien heads and a loose gray sweater with a green Apex symbol over the right breast, the collar falling off your shoulders. Crypto looks worse for wear, his eyes are tired and he’s got dirt smudged on his cheek and smells heavy of sweat. Not that Isabella-Marie minds. Nor you. 

“Hey,” You greet him, a smile on your face as his eyes rest on you whilst his cat presses her cheek in insistent strokes against his chin, cradled in his arms. 

“Hey,” He murmurs back to you, adjusting Isabella-Marie in his arms when you reach for him. Despite his tired expression, his cheeks flush when he leans down and to the side for you to cup his cheeks and peck a kiss on his lips in greeting. 

“You need a shower. You go wash up and I’ll order dinner.” You tell him, offering your arms out for Isabella-Marie to be transferred to your arms in all her purring glory. “What were you thinking tonight?” 

“Mmh.” Is his only reply, leaning down to rest his cheek on the top of your head in a small nuzzle. Affectionate boy. You laugh a bit, gently nudging him with your hip as Isabella-Marie jumps out of your arms. Giving you time to hook your arms around his waist and shove your hands into his back pockets under his jacket to draw him close and make him blush. 

“Tae Jooooon,” You tease his name, enjoying how he hums low in his throat in response and turning his head to press his lips against the top of your head in a kiss. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t go your whole life being a one worded man.” 

“Mmh.” He responds again, this time with a smile that you feel. 

You shove at him playfully to shoo him off for the shower, calling out after his back when he goes dutifully towards the bathroom. “Fine! But if you don’t like what I picked because you didn’t give any options, I don’t wanna hear you complain!” 

Not that he ever did complain. If he was picky this would be a bigger concern. But thankfully you two seemed to be on the same page a lot of times, especially when it came to food. 

The food you order is Chinese takeout, getting here just in time for when Crypto emerges from his long shower looking a lot more awake and less grouchy. He’s dressed in his thick framed glasses, his normally slicked back hair nice and slick, some black sweatpants and a loose white crop-top, something you appreciate very greatly to be able to see his fit frame. 

Like a nerdy jock. 

You show your enjoyment when you wrap your arms around him from behind when he goes to look at what you got for dinner. Running your nails up his exposed beauty-marked, warm skin on his abdomen to feel him squirm and lean back against you with this flustered huff falling from his lips. 

Eventually you two make it to the couch where you have dinner and watch one of the K-dramas he liked to indulge in. Sometimes Crypto will pause it to explain a verbal pun that wasn’t caught via the subtitles for you, something that always makes you smile and appreciate when he takes the time to pause and explain for you. 

Though you’re sure he doesn’t appreciate when you wait for his most distracted point in time to steal a piece of his food and shove it in your mouth too quickly for him to stop you. Resulting in him poking at you until you squeal from being tickled and he can take a piece off your food in retaliation as you whine at him after. 

Domestic. That’s the best way you could describe yours and Crypto’s relationship. 

Home. 

After dinner is put away and teeth are brushed, you two settle back onto the couch. You curl up on the corner, Crypto following you to cuddle up to your side. His cheek rests against your shoulder, kind of tilting his body into you as you rest your arm behind him, your hand resting on his nape to slide up to pet at the shaved portion of his head. Another hum from him of appreciation, but not verbalizing his like of it. 

Crypto softly adjusts, but you take it as nothing more than him getting closer to you with the soft sound of the TV in front of you. You’ve got your phone in your lap to play a puzzle game while he watches his show, very much like a cat as he rubs his cheek against your shoulder affectionately. 

Another squirm, another adjustment is felt after a moment of him pressing his thigh to yours. You take it as him wanting to be closer, only sliding your fingers higher along his scalp to the coarse hair atop his head to lightly scratch at the root like he likes. 

You don’t notice his mouth starting to part, quickly cut off with the ringing of your phone and you groaning aloud. “Really? Right now?” Before you’re answering it with a polite ‘Hello?’ that makes Crypto snort at your tone change. 

He watches as you chat, watching your lips move and hearing you discuss footage and what your boss must have wanted you to edit or someone else. He’s not really paying attention when you’re still petting his hair. He tries to nudge closer to you, near flush with your side as his hand now rests on your thigh, hoping to catch your attention. You only offer him a quick smile before returning back to your conversation. 

After five minutes, it’s clear this isn’t going to be a short call either. 

A sigh is heard from Crypto before he’s leaning up to start pecking soft, brushing kisses on your neck. Your head tilts for him, only a light flutter of your lashes as you go ‘Mmhm yeah’ to whoever you are on the phone with. Your nails press lightly at his scalp, letting him know you feel him as his teeth lightly nip at your neck like you like. 

You’re damned good at keeping your composure verbally, and now Crypto’s beginning to wonder if you’ve ever done anything on the phone with him without his knowledge. Even the mental image of you spread out and touching yourself while on the phone near making him whine, something he swallows down. 

You clearly can feel him and see him. You offer a little smile when he peeks up at you, catching your gaze. Emboldened by you sparing even a little attention to him, his hand slides down to your wrist in hopes you’ll catch up to what he’s saying. Gently drawing it to his thigh and towards his inner thigh. And yet, you still chat on the phone, but now you’re squeezing and massaging his thigh, your pinkie lightly skimming over his crotch and making Crypto’s breath hitch against your shoulder. 

His brows are furrowed, looking ever so frustrated as you now purposefully lengthen the conversation out by bringing back a point from the last game played. Crypto’s head tips lightly up to you, his eyes pleading with you when your knuckles brush over the bulge in his sweatpants. 

Your eyes meet his and you quirk a brow with a light smirk on your face. Your eyes say enough for him, you’re sure, judging by how his face flushes and his brows furrow once again. You can see and feel how he squirms, realizing he’s not going to get anything until he uses his words. 

He’s stubborn. He’s always so stubborn. Squirming in his place and getting more frustrated as you keep chatting. Only after three minutes does he finally give in when he realizes this isn’t going to work and you’re only going to keep teasing him through his pants. 

“Please?” He all but whispers, his mouth felt quivering on your bare shoulder and his hot breath felt in a shaky exhale. “Please touch me, please?” 

You smirk. 

“Oh! Hey, boss, looks like I’ll have to chat with you tomorrow morning about that- uhuh, yeah, yeah, getting,” -You pause there to let out a feigned yawn- “Oof, yeah, getting real tired....uhuh, yeah, sounds good! Buh-bye.” Before you’re ending the call and practically pouncing on him. 

You end up in his lap, straddling him and cupping his cheeks, brushing some of his hair from his face before you lean in to kiss him. Crypto’s hands find your waist, hovering at first before gripping you when you lick into his mouth after biting his lip to make him gasp. 

You sit up higher to press him back into the couch, letting your hands slide into his hair for him to tip his head back when you pull at it. His moan is low and vibrates his chest when your tongue licks over his own, feeling his hips jerk lightly up and against your ass needily. 

“I like when you beg,” You breathe as you part from the kiss, moving the kisses down his jawline and towards his ear where you lightly nip. “Do it again for me?” 

“Nnh-” Is the only response he manages at first, his fingers shaking as they slide down to grip your hips when you start grinding across his lap. Back and forth to your own rhythm and feeling just how hard he is. Bless whoever made sweatpants. 

Crypto’s so cute when you pull back to look at him. Where his head is tipped back and to the side, his lips parted and letting out ragged breaths with each drag of your hips across his lap. How his brows knit together when you grind low and slow downwards to catch his attention and his mouth falls closed to hiss. 

But. He still wasn’t speaking. 

“Be a good boy and tell me what you want, hm?” You try to encourage him, letting your hands fall down to his exposed abdomen to slide your hands up and under his crop top. Slipping your hands over his chest to thumb at his sensitive nipples, gently pinching and rolling them. Crypto whimpers sharply, his head rolling to the opposite side and looking more stubborn by the second as he strains to come up with words. 

“I-I-” His voice comes out in a whine, framed by how his lips quiver and his blunt nails cling to your hips when you stop grinding to encourage him further. “I...I want your mouth. On- o-on my cock. Please?”  

“Awww, baby, when you look that cute? I’d do just about anything for you.” 

You move down his body, kissing your way down until you can slink in between his knees onto the floor. You waste no time in hooking your fingers under his sweatpants, your mouth watering as you follow his happy trail downwards as it gets more exposed. You tug them completely off with his underwear, watching his thick cock bounce with a satisfying bob and a drool of pre-cum from the flushed head peaking from foreskin. 

Crypto covers his face with his hands to hide his burning red flush that edges down to his chest when you hum at him approvingly. But, judging by how his cock throbs, you already know that as he likes being watched and praised without words. 

You take your sweet time kissing up his length and down his balls, letting your tongue run over the sensitive skin. Your hand holds the base, stroking downwards to pull back his foreskin, mouthing at the flushed head and letting your tongue slide against the slit in teasing dips until a whimper falls from his lips. 

You tease him like this for a good enough amount of time before you even take him into your mouth fully. Suckling and bobbing your head, your free hand holding his hip to squeeze to remind him to keep his hips down when he starts trying to hump upwards into your mouth. 

Anytime you feel how his cock jerks and you hear his breathing quicken; You stop. Pulling your mouth off to kiss at his hips and thighs instead. Squeezing on his legs soothingly and rubbing at his skin when Crypto whines and rolls his hips up with not a single word peeping from his lips. Even if now his arm is thrown over his forehead, able to see how he peeks open one eye to look down at you pleadingly. 

You smile up at him each time before you take him in again. Suckling, licking, your nails sliding down his thigh until your hand can cup his balls and lightly squeeze. And each time you feel him get close, you pull back. The same bite of pain of your nails on his skin, same edging, the same denial even as pre-cum spills from his cock and it mixes with your drool to connect you with a sliver that makes him near sob when he sees you. 

You know he liked it messy. Liked seeing the mess you could make. 

The mess you could make of him. 

You’re about to remind him that he needs to use his big boy words if he wants to get anywhere tonight. But, seems Crypto gets the memo when he starts pleading. 

“Let me cum inside you, please, please, please- please let me cum i-inside you, please, I’ll be good-”  His voice is breathy, a high whimper as his hips try to fuck up into the loose grip you have on his shaft. He just looks so pathetic for you right now. Just a teary, drooly, humpy mess. 

You like how desperate looks on him. 

“Mmmhhh, I dunno, baby,” You let your voice elongate your words, your breath fanning across his sensitive skin and causing his dick to jerk, lightly tapping your lower lip and making you smile. “You look awfully cute. Can’t you hold it a bit longer? C’mon, you can be my good boy and hold it, can’t you?” 

Each end of your questions is punctuated with a drag of your lips across his cock, letting him feel how you murmur across his reddened skin. 

Crypto sobs out again, his body jerking in sensitivity as both his hands come back up to hide his red face and teary eyes. His nod allows you to continue, continuing your teasing kisses and licks. Making sure to bite pain into his thighs to cause his mind to either associate the pain with pleasure or to back off his pleasure. Judging by the way he sobs out and twitches each time you scratch or bite him, you’re guessing it’s your prior guess. 

“Please, please, please-” Crypto starts to sob when you deny him again, his cock jerking heavily and spilling pre-cum on his lower abdomen. His hands have fallen to grip the couch as best as he can, his teary gaze looking down at you and his lips quivering with his shaky breaths. So cute. “Please, I-I cannot take it anymore, please, please let me cum in you, I want to cum in you-” 

You’ll give him credit. This is the most he’s ever spoken during sex, let alone been so clear in his needs and desires. Something you’ll praise him for later. For now, you smile up at him, wiping your mouth off on the back of your hand before standing to wriggle out of your lounge clothing.  

Crypto’s quick to help you, hooking fingers in your sweater to help you out of it. It’s fit with your laughter as you nearly fall on him, lots of giggling when his mouth presses a kiss to your abdomen when you get halfway stuck through your sweater and pants. “Tae Joon-” You laugh out his name when you feel him smile against your abdomen, “C’mon, lil help here?” 

Eventually you escape your clothing prison, able to set the mood again when your straddle his lap. You’re plenty wet enough, but you still take the time to tease him a bit more by reaching down to stretch yourself while hovering over his cock. You feel flustered as he watches you, sitting under you and looking up at you with such love in his eyes while you make soft sounds yourself. 

It takes a few tries to line up correctly, but soon you’re bouncing your hips on him with your fingers in his hair and your mouth on his neck. He always sounds so pretty the way he cries out, clinging to your hips at first before his arms wind around you to hug you to his trembling frame. You pepper kisses all over his face, cupping his cheeks adoringly as you rest your foreheads together. 

He cums rather quickly, clinging so hard to you as his hips frantically hump up against you. He ends up accidentally holding you still so he can thrust up into you, resulting in you clinging to him in turn with your lips parted and murmuring praise as he fucks you through his orgasm. He’s swearing in his mother tongue, something you can only catch bits and pieces of. 

When Crypto’s done cumming, one of his hands quickly goes down to between both your bodies to rub at your clit as you hump against his cock still lodged inside you. He finds your lips to capture when you whimper out his name when you begin to cum, your nails biting into his shoulders as he rubs you through it. 

By the time you’re both satisfied, you slump against his frame, burying your face into his neck as your sweaty bodies press together on the couch, still connected. 

When both of your breathing settles, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, nuzzling himself there as his hands slide up and down your sides. You smile softly, adjusting your hips a bit and laughing a bit when he grunts in this little oversensitive way. 

When you lift your head to meet his gaze, you smile a bit brighter, gently bumping your noses together. “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs back just as fondly. 

“You need a shower.”  

He smiles when he realizes you’re replaying your interaction from earlier that day, reaching up to brush your frazzled hair from your face. “Mmh.” 

“You need a shower with me?” 

“Mmh.” He repeats, moving to rest his cheek atop your head as you laugh at him when you feel his chest shake with a quiet laugh in turn. 

“Alright fine. Guess I’ll be getting a shower first and you’ll be left out here with your dick out and cold-” 

That gets him. Pushing you off him and to the couch with a yelp from you as you fall gracelessly on your side and gasp as he takes off towards the shower and you quickly following after him with a playful swat to his ass when you catch up. 

Yeah. You would say your guys’ relationship was domestic. 

[milgrammer]

[ENG] Molech Voice Drama

Es: [footsteps]

Shido: Hm?

Es: Sorry to have kept you waiting. [footsteps] Prisoner number 5, Shido. 

Shido: No need to. Thank you for all your hard work, Es.

Es: Now then, Shido. Let’s begin the interrogation.

Shido: Very well. Please go ahead.

Es: [hesitates] Ok. Let’s see... Milgram exists to reveal the sins of you, prisoners, and to hand down the appropriate judgement. So, for that reason, talk to me for a bit. 

Shido: Understood. Please take good care of me from now on.

Es: [pauses] Even if this is referred to as an interrogation, at this moment in time, I don’t plan on using violence. In addition to that, any falsehood or silence from you will be acknowledged.

Shido: I see. I might refrain from voicing anything I don’t want to say, but I have no intention of lying to you.

Es: Shido, how’s life in Milgram? Do you have any complaints about its environment? Or have any issues arisen from the other prisoners, etc?

Shido: No particular inadequacies really come to mind. And, my fellow prisoners haven't particularly caused any issues either. Es, I wonder if this is the fruit of all the governing you do? It’s remarkable.

Es: Not really. [hesitates] Hold on a second, Shido. 

Shido: Yes? What is it?

Es: This is… I know it’s me who’s getting things mixed up here, but…  In comparison to all the interrogations thus far, this one has been progressing far too smoothly; it feels somewhat unsettling. 

Shido: I’m not sure what to say to that... 

Es: Hm. [footsteps] Shido, do you seriously not have any reservations about Milgram? 

Shido: Well, let’s see. I mean, without a doubt, it’s clearly a strange place. Its architectural style and the written script it uses are things I’ve never seen before either. If you were to say I was having a dream or a vision, then that would make more sense to me. 

Es: Hm.

Shido: But, all things considered, I’m still very much conscious. My pulse rate is within its normal range. And, I can’t find any symptoms to suggest that I’m hallucinating either. So, I don't exactly find that idea to be very convincing.

Es: Oh?

Shido: Other than that... If this is the afterlife, then this place must be hell. But, if I set that idea aside, then… This is just real life. I, myself, am in normal condition; it’s where I am which is unusual. I may not know the reason behind this place or how it works, but even if I tried to escape from the reality of it, nothing would really change, right?

Es: You sure are composed, aren’t you? 

Shido: That’s just my personality. I just simply don’t think bad of it—this place, I mean. 

Es: You mean, Milgram?

Shido: Yeah, this place will put me to death. 

Es: What?

Shido: I might not get a golden opportunity like this again, so I’ll get straight to the point. Es… You decide how the prisoners will be dealt with, right? 

Es: Yeah. That’s right.

Shido: The death penalty is what I’m hoping for. Thank you in advance. 

Es: I won’t have that. The lot of you can’t decide what your own treatment will be. Only I as the prison guard have the authority to do so.

Shido: Exactly. You as the prison guard have the right to do such a thing, Es, so that’s why I’m asking you for this favour. 

Es: [scratches head, sighs] In regards to your sin, what I’ve gathered so far is that you both regret and have already reflected on your actions. On top of that, you’re also seeking to receive the maximum penalty we have to offer. So, let’s use that information. The idea that I’ll be taking your behaviour into consideration is nothing more than a mere presumption.

Shido: [hesitates]

Es: And, of course, I haven’t thrown away the possibility that you’re only doing this to get on my good side either.

Shido: Hm. I honestly have no idea what you and Milgram are setting out to achieve. You mentioned something about extracting songs and videos from our hearts, and then using them to judge our sins, didn’t you?

Es: Yeah. And, what of it?

Shido: There’s no need for you to go through such a cumbersome process. If you want to hand down the correct punishment for me, then all you have to do is put an end to my life and it'll be over in a blink of an eye.

Es: You’re being annoyingly persistent, Shido! Know your place here. 

Shido: Please listen to me, Es. I’ve killed people. Lots of them as well. It was for such a selfish reason too. I’m a fine specimen of what a genuine murderer ought to be. [footsteps] There’s no reason for you to forgive me. And, I don’t have the desire to be forgiven either.

Es: I really don’t...get you.

Shido: If you don’t put me to death, then neither the people I’ve killed nor their families will be at peace. Don’t you think so too?    

Es: As if that’s my business. I haven’t necessarily sided with your victims and I’m not a family member of theirs either.

Shido: [sighs]

Es: [sighs] Anyway, the only thing I’ll be deciding on is whether or not I forgive you. I don’t even know the details of what punishment will follow after that. 

Shido: Is that so? Es, I suppose you were left in the dark about many things as well just like the rest of us. 

Es: Knowing what happens to the lot of you afterwards might prevent me from making a straightforward decision about whether I should forgive you or not. So, it’s to avoid that from happening. Were you aware of that? 

Shido: Hm… But, this place does smell of the dead though. I’m sure that some sort of death will lie at the end of Milgram.

Es: Smell of the dead? 

Shido: Yes. I can somewhat recognise it from experience… A place which is filled with the smell of the dead, that is. 

Es: Is...that so? Well, either way, Milgram is a three-trial system. It lets me take my time to decide on whether or not I should forgive you. Even if you wish for the opposite, if I decide that you should be forgiven, then it’ll do just that without any hesitation. 

Shido: A three-trial system, right? It’ll take far too long, don’t you think? I’d rather this all be over as soon as possible.

Es: Like I care about what’s convenient for you. Don’t complain about the rules.

Shido: So, if it’s a three-trial system… Then, for example, if you absolutely can’t find it within yourself to forgive me and I don’t lodge an appeal in response, will my treatment be decided on the spot?

Es: That’s the three-trial system according to Japanese law. Milgram’s one is different from that. For the time being, you really should throw away what would be considered common sense there. I mean, if we’re gonna bring up Japan… Due to the abolition of the Prison law, this sort of prison shouldn’t even exist in the first place. (1)

Shido: Wow… 

Es: What is it? You’re going all wide-eyed. 

Shido: Ah, well… I was just thinking about how despite being a child, you’ve really done your research on this.

Es: Hey. [footsteps] You trying to make fun of me, is that it? 

Shido: What? Oh, no. I wasn’t trying to do anything like that.

Es: You were. Something’s been on my mind ever since the very beginning… “Es, this. Es, that.” It’s the belittling way you refer to me…  I’m the prison guard, you know that?

Shido: Oh, I’m completely aware of that. But, you’re still a child in actuality. Coming from me, who’s almost twice the age as you are, I just… 

Es: What is it?

Shido: For a child like you to be entrusted with this sort of role… My heart goes out to you. 

Es: Excuse me?

Shido: I don’t know what circumstances you face while guarding this prison nor the reason as to why you’re doing it, but I’m sure that it must take a toll on you emotionally as well. So, please do your best. [pats head]

Es: [is shook] I see. Oh, I see now. So, that’s how it is. So, that’s how it’s gonna be. [deep breaths]

Shido: Hm? Es?

Es: Don’t you dare… pat my head like that! [kicks]

Shido: [grunts] Please hold on for a second.

Es: Phew, I feel so much better now.

Shido: S-suddenly kicking my shin like that…wasn’t very nice of you.

Es: Shut up! Out of all the prisoners thus far, you’re the one I can’t stand the most. Going all pessimistic like that, running your mouth as if you knew everything, acting as if you’re oh-so mature, and never budging from that composed expression of yours—the nerve of you! On top of that, you even went so far as to pat my head. Do you think I’m your child? Do you?! Don’t fuck with me!

Shido: Didn’t you say that you wouldn’t use violence?

Es: It’s on a case-by-case basis.

Shido: What a thing to say.

Es: Hey, Shido. What the hell do you mean by "I want to die"? Don’t you dare try to insult me with that. Plead for your life with every fibre of your being! Our instinctive desire to stay alive is the very reason why punishments for our sins exist. To Milgram and to me, your very existence is sacrilegious! 

Shido: Es… 

Es: If your shin gets kicked, you’ll feel pain, won’t you? And if it hurts, you’ll cry out, won’t you? You’ll tear up, won’t you? 

Shido: Yeah… 

Es: Well, take that! Even if you boast about wanting to die, the pain you just felt is the exact same thing as your body screaming that it doesn’t want to. 

Shido: [pauses]

Es: While you’re still alive, you should be grabbing life with both hands! Don’t act as if you’re already dead. An adult like that has no right to treat me like a child. It makes my skin crawl. End of discussion!

Shido: I see… If I feel pain, then it’s proof that I want to live?

Es: Hmph!

Shido: [sighs] Well, with that being said, here’s my counterargument to it. It was the nociceptors in my shin which felt that pain. So, it's nothing more than a reaction caused by pain signals being transmitted to my spinal cord and then to my brain. That phenomenon is called nociceptive pain. 

Es: What?

Shido: What I’m saying is… Even if I do want to die, pain is something which will still involuntarily occur. And therefore, you, Es, were making a mistake in your claim.

Es: That's so immature of you. 

Shido: [laughs] It’s payback for kicking my shin like that. But, you know, I think it was an amazing mistake to have made. It was so radiant...to the point where it made me want to turn away. Just as I thought, you truly are a child…but that makes me incredibly happy.

Es: Shido… [mechanical noises] It’s time, huh.

Shido: So, this is what will be “extracting songs”? It sure is intriguing. I wonder what mine will be like. 

Es: Composed no matter what, aren’t you? Is there anything left you'd like to say? 

Shido: Oh, yeah. I don’t know about what the other prisoners may think about Milgram itself, but…  I fully agree with it.

Es: Sure seems that way.

Shido: I’m a fine specimen of what a murderer ought to be. I don’t mind when you hand down your judgement, but if it's possible… Instead of being told by the law that I won’t be forgiven, I wanted a child like you, Es, to tell me that.

Es: What?

Shido: I feel sorry that you had to be given this role. And, I truly apologise for being so insistent about sentencing me to death as well…  But, you’re perfect. You’ll give me the ending I’m most suited for. 

Es: [hesitates] Y-you… What’re you saying? A special request like that is so...

Shido: [laughs] Well, I wonder. I'm just trying to get you to punish me as of now. 

Es: [hesitates] 

Shido: I look forward to you handing down the correct judgment.

Es: You’re making a false presumption there. It’s the fact that it’s my judgment which makes it correct! That’s what Milgram is.

Shido: Then, I look forward to what you deem to be ‘correct’.

Es: Hmph. Say whatever you want.

Shido: Please make sure you don’t forgive me. Okay, Es?

Es: [scoffs] Don’t make me say it over and over again! I don’t give a shit about what you’re hoping for. Prisoner number 5, Shido. Come now. Sing your sins!

「監獄」 [kangoku] were essentially comprised of 「刑務所」 (for those people serving a sentence) and 「拘置所」 (for suspects, those who were awaiting a sentence or those on death row).  They operated under 「監獄法」 (the Prison Law). However, due to abolition of the Prison Law in 2007, those facilities are no longer called 「監獄」, but are now referred to as 「刑事施設」.

[ibijau]

Futures past pt2 / On AO3

Lan Xichen awakens from a dream that isn't his, and must make a decision

Lan Xichen awoke to a desperate scream stuck in his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he was going to…

His throat relaxed at last, just enough for him to wail in despair. Heavy tears stained his face and he curled up on his side, still half choking, scratching at his own neck until it bled.

Footsteps came to his door. He heard a voice calling his name, familiar and filled with worry, but he was gasping for air too badly to answer. The only sounds he could make were sobs and weak, pained moans. Getting worried, his uncle entered his bedroom and hurried to his bed.

“Xichen, what’s wrong?” Lan Qiren asked, grabbing his nephew’s hands so he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore, checking his forehead for a fever, his wrist for a pulse.

Lan Xichen’s heart was beating too hard, too fast, nearly making sick, and still he couldn’t quite breathe. He grasped his uncle’s hand, needing the comfort, the closeness. Needing the reminder he wasn’t alone, because…

Because he would be alone, someday. So desperately alone, and it would be his own fault.

The thought, the memory that didn’t quite belong to him, wrenched another sob out of him.

“Is something wrong?” Lan Wangji’s voice asked from further away.

Through the tears, Lan Xichen spotted his younger brother hovering in the doorway, so sleepy he hadn't even grabbed his ribbon, looking quite worried. Out of habit Lan Xichen tried to open his mouth and comfort Lan Wangji, but all that came out was a breathless growl that made the younger boy even more distraught. 

It took a long while for Lan Xichen to calm down. Lan Qiren stayed at his side the entire time, having sent Lan Wangji back to bed. Holding Lan Xichen's hands, he hummed a melody, a lullaby of sorts which soothed his nephew, just as it had when Lan Xichen had been a child. 

"It was just a nightmare," Lan Xichen said when his voice returned to him. "Apologies for the inconvenience, shufu." 

"A rather strong one then," Lan Qiren replied. "If you want to share it, I will listen." 

It was tempting. But if Lan Qiren didn't believe him, Lan Xichen would seem mad. And if he did believe him… Lan Xichen shivered at the thought. He couldn't burden others with that, it would be too cruel. 

He shook his head. 

"It was only a bad dream," Lan Xichen said. "With your permission, I will stay up a little and find ways to occupy myself until I feel like sleeping again." 

"I might have medicine to help you fall asleep," Lan Qiren offered. 

"No need, I just need a little more time. Please don't let me inconvenience you any longer, shufu." 

Lan Qiren looked unconvinced, but did not insist, and soon enough Lan Xichen was left alone again. 

The first thing he did was to stand up and go to the window, where he filled his lungs with all the fresh air he could. Nights were cold, each breath made his chest burn a little more, but he didn't stop until the pain was nearly unbearable. 

The second thing he did was to light a candle, take some paper and ink, and start writing. 

He wrote for most of what remained of the night, lest he should forget some crucial detail about that dream he'd had. Or rather… not a dream, not quite. A memory then. 

His memory, and yet not. 

The entire life of the man he would become, if nothing was done to set things right. 

A man who would be blind to injustice. A man who, while seeking to protect his two dearest friends, would only push them faster to their death. A man broken by the weight of every wrongful choice he had made, after spending nearly half a lifetime trusting the wrong person. 

In short, a man Lan Xichen did not want to become. 

Exhausted and wrecked by emotions that weren't entirely his own, Lan Xichen had no way of knowing why this knowledge of the future had come to him. He was only certain that this vision, awful as it had been, was no mere fantasy. This had happened, or would happen, unless he took proper measures to prevent it. 

Having finished writing it all down, Lan Xichen hid his grim prediction and went back to sleep, falling on his bed like a stone. No more nightmares plagued him that night. A small mercy. He wasn't sure he could have withstood it again. 

When morning came, Lan Xichen rose at the habitual hour and tried to get ready for the day. The habitual rhythm of the Cloud Recesses allowed for few exceptions, and he didn't want to call more attention upon himself by asking for favours. But as he was getting dressed, his uncle came into his room, took one look at him, and ordered him to take the day off. Lan Xichen ought to have protested, but this suited him too well.

First, because he was exhausted. 

Second, because he needed to come up with a plan. He had half expected that in the sunlight, that vision of his would melt like snow in spring. Instead, it only seemed to have taken a stronger hold upon his mind. This would happen, because it had already happened. 

Lan Xichen sat on his bed, his half feverish notes sprawled in front of him, and considered the situation. 

There was a war coming, but that was no surprise. Nobody with any understanding of politics could have missed that. If nothing else, Nie Mingjue was craving for a chance to start that war, eager to avenge his father. 

Speaking of Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen would play such a role in his death that it wouldn't be exaggerated to call him a murderer (someone would, the memories told him) though the actual plot was due to Jin Guangshan and some other person Lan Xichen had yet to meet, that Jin Guangyao who he would be so fond of. 

His other closest friend in that future he foresaw, and someone whose death he took a more active part in (but only reluctantly, someone would say, only when forced, and ought he not be ashamed that even after everything he still favoured the wrong friend?). 

There were other matters of course, his father's death, his brother's decades long infatuation… but Lan Xichen felt that what truly caused the vision to come to him was that matter with the men who would be his sworn brothers. 

It was for this that he was blamed and shamed by the one person he'd most overlooked, whose opinion had gone from utterly inconsequential to being of utmost importance. 

Nie Huaisang. 

Even with the certainty of those future memories, Lan Xichen half wanted to laugh at the idea that Nie Huaisang could ever harm anyone. 

It wasn't that Lan Xichen looked down on the younger boy, and more that he didn't pay enough attention to him to feel anything about him. Nie Huaisang was foolish, lazy, and spoiled, three things Nie Mingjue frequently complained about even though he had his share of responsibility in that, being the one who did most of the spoiling. Aside from that… Lan Xichen future memories told him that Nie Huaisang was, or would be, an artist of some skill, and that was the only compliment he would have been able to pay him, for the longest time. 

Nie Huaisang would also be a cold, ruthless man ready to risk countless lives for revenge, one who would grow to hate Lan Xichen, one who would let him stand beside a murderer for a decade because he suspected him of being an accomplice. One who would tell him… 

Lan Xichen found himself nearly choking again, the memories overwhelming him once more. He had to painfully force each breath in, then out again, until his body remembered how to do it. 

Nie Huaisang, if pushed to it, would turn into a terrifying man. But at present, he was still just a foolish and innocent boy, so if Lan Xichen made an effort, surely he had time to make Nie Huaisang see that he could be trusted in a crisis. 

Of course the plan was to avoid the crisis in question. Nie Mingjue couldn't be allowed to die, not when he was Lan Xichen's dearest friend, not when his death would have been so cruel and unjust. Lan Xichen, who now knew too much about certain people, felt certain he could change this terrible future he had foreseen. Still, just in case, it wouldn't hurt to get Nie Huaisang on his side. 

It wouldn't be fun, but it might turn out useful someday. 

  -

The first thing Lan Xichen did, once he had decided on a course of action, was to head for Lan Qiren's office and ask his uncle whether it might not be prudent to have copies of the books in their library, at the very least those most unique or precious. That library would burn someday, and it was something his future self would always regret, even if this at least really hadn’t been his fault.

Lan Qiren blinked at him like a startled owl. Lan Xichen almost laughed, and then nearly cried, hit by the sudden realisation that his uncle was roughly the same age he would be when the truth about Nie Mingjue’s death would be revealed, if not a little younger. He tried to hide it with that beard of his, and the difference in generation had made it less obvious to his nephews, but Lan Qiren wasn’t old at all. He must have been so young when he started caring for his nephews.

“Why would we need copies?” Lan Qiren asked. “The chances of two books being needed at the same time are low, and patience is a good quality to practice."

Lan Xichen bit his lip, trying to find an explanation that wouldn't bring forth too many questions. Before he could, his uncle spoke again. 

"That dream last night wasn't just a normal nightmare," Lan Qiren guessed. "Your spiritual energy wasn't circulating right, I thought it might have been a qi deviation, but… did you see something instead?" 

"Something terrible is coming," Lan Xichen confirmed. After a brief hesitation, he added: "The Wens are looking to start a war. They will start it, given half a chance. We have two years, more or less." 

Lan Qiren looked shaken by the news, but not particularly surprised as such. 

"They will attack us? Here?" 

Lan Xichen nodded. "The library will burn, and other parts of the Cloud Recesses as well." 

Habitations, a few classrooms, part of the training grounds… but the true loss was really the library, the heart of their sect, the source of so much knowledge. 

Lan Qiren was silent for a while, weighing their options. 

"If we take direct action to make duplicates, it will call attention to us, and draw the Wen's suspicions. I will start making copies of precious texts myself, along with others I can trust. For less sensitive documents, I will assign their copies to disciples in need of punishment. It will be educational for them, useful for us."

"I'll help as well," Lan Xichen offered. 

"I expected you would volunteer,” his uncle said with a thin smile. “Was there anything else to that vision you had?" 

Lan Xichen hesitated. 

He thought of that boy he had yet to meet, Wei Wuxian, who would raise the dead and use them as deadly weapons, sowing death and destruction around him, all because he'd sacrificed everything for his beloved shidi. 

He thought of Lan Wangji with his back shredded by the discipline whips, weakened to the point he nearly died, yet unrepentant. 

He thought of the Lotus Piers slaughtered, of Nie Mingjue dead, of his own guilt driving him to withdraw from the world. 

He thought of Nie Huaisang, going from overlooked little idiot to becoming the most dangerous man in the cultivation world. 

"No, uncle," Lan Xichen said. "There was nothing more." 

At least, nothing that he should burden his uncle with, when he already dealt with so much. 

Let Lan Qiren save the library, and Lan Xichen would find a way to solve the rest. 

  -

In spite of preparations for the upcoming new batch of guest disciples, Lan Xichen found time to start copying some treaties. It was not easy work when no mistake could be tolerated, but that difficulty was actually welcome. It helped him be more tired, and being truly exhausted was the only way he could fall asleep since that vision of the future. 

Contrary to his expectations, the vision hadn't faded with time as a true dream would have. Instead it melted into his own memories, manifesting as a particularly vivid series of déjà-vu. Much like true memories, Lan Xichen found he couldn't actually remember every single detail of every moment. Unless he had been paying attention when those future memories formed, then he remembered as little as he might recall what he'd had for breakfast on a specific day five months earlier. 

So when the Nie juniors arrived, a few days earlier than expected, Lan Xichen wasn't surprised. His other self had been annoyed by this interruption to everyone's schedule, but now Lan Xichen was just curious to meet Nie Huaisang again, knowing what he was capable of. When Lan Qiren asked him to come greet those Nie disciples, Lan Xichen agreed very quickly.

Because of the long climb up the mountain, because his cultivation was so poor and his general capacity so low, Nie Huaisang was breathless and sweaty when he arrived at the gate of the Cloud Recesses. Combined with his short height and his frail stature, it made for a sharp contrast with the disciples accompanying him. Lan Xichen just couldn’t imagine anyone less scary than this boy who chatted rather too easily with Lan Qiren, disregarding the difference in age and capacity between them. Nie Huaisang really had little to show for himself. He wasn’t even particularly good-looking presently, though he would become surprisingly handsome in due time.

Nie Huaisang would become many things, over the years.

As Lan Qiren guided the Nie disciples toward the house that would be theirs for the duration of their stay in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen watched Nie Huaisang attentively, trying to catch some sign of the sharp and cruel man he was destined to become someday. But there was just nothing, no hint of coldness, no particular cunning.

Nothing at all until…

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang excitedly asked, looking directly at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Lan Xichen shivered. He didn’t think this had happened in the future he remembered… or could it be that his future self hadn’t committed such a thing to memory? He would have had no reason to, never guessing how important his interactions with Nie Huaisang would turn out to be. Quite possibly, he had just refused that request, busy with other things.

Lan Xichen tried to refuse, in fact, but Nie Huaisang was insistent enough that to deny him any further would have made him a bad host. Worse, it might have attracted questions from his uncle, who might have suspected that Lan Xichen hadn’t told him everything he’d seen in his nightmare. Besides, Lan Xichen had already determined he would make efforts to earn Nie Huaisang’s trust so the future wouldn’t repeat itself, so why not start immediately?

When the time came for it, the tour went rather better than Lan Xichen might have expected. Nie Huaisang was surprisingly attentive to what was explained to him about the Cloud Recesses, which went against what previous encounters and those future memories had established. But no, that was unfair, Lan Xichen realised. Nie Huaisang, right from the start, had always been quite curious about those very few things that interested him.

It was just surprising that the Cloud Recesses would fall in that category.

By the time Nie Huaisang asked about things to do for fun, Lan Xichen had relaxed a little, and even boldly suggested that the younger boy might be interested in trying new things, even musical cultivation if he wished. He felt quite confident that whatever had happened in that other future, he could easily avoid it. All he had to do was keep Nie Mingjue safe, keep Nie Huaisang happy, and everything would be…

“I do like music a lot,” Nie Huaisang said pensively. “My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

Lan Xichen froze.

He could just see Nie Mingjue, in prey to a killing rage that only stopped with his own death. Nie Mingjue’s body, headless, desecrated, cut to pieces and held together only through sheer rage and red thread that his little brother had sewn into his flesh. And that melody, that twisted mockery of a Lan healing song…

Lan Xichen shivered at the moment, suddenly nearly as breathless as he had been when waking up from that nightmare.

But he had been well trained, and when he noticed Nie Huaisang’s worry, Lan Xichen pulled himself back together, forcing himself to smile and chat amicably in spite of the specter of a pain he refused to ever feel again.

This time, he would make sure no one he loved died because of his mistakes.

[justcourttee]

An Akuma shows up at school for a specific target in Mind: Bustier. Revealing the Akuma was an former student and wants retribution for her ‘teachings’ of being a ‘good example’ made a negative impact on their mental and emotional health. Mainly Bustier facing the consequences of her actions, and revealed a lot more have suffered. No class bashing, or salt. Except doing to Lila and Bustier

I like this prompt so much and I couldn’t wait to finish it! Hope it was close to what you imagined! 

Karma

Marinette paced the hallway outside the door of her classroom waiting for Mme. Bustier to meet her there for what she could guess would be yet another lecture on being the bigger person. It was so frustrating.

The sound of the door opening caught her attention as her teacher finally arrived, a small frown gracing her face.

“Now Marinette, I don’t understand what is going on between you and Lila, but you need to be the bigger person here like you always are. You know she has a disease and your outburst in class was unacceptable.”

“But Mme. Bustier! She was spreading lies about my friend! Adrien isn’t here to rebuttal for himself but I know he wouldn’t appreciate her lying about their relationship.”

Marinette crossed her arms in deviance only earning a dissatisfied headshake from her favorite teacher. Her heart sank a little at the idea that Bustier really meant for her to apologize to Lila yet again.

She didn’t even bother waiting for her response as she slunk back towards the door, already giving in before the argument could even begin. Her hand reached toward the handle only pausing when she heard a soft gasp from behind.

Marinette turned just in time to see a woman enveloped in the purple smoke that could only point to one thing. An akumanization.

“Mme. Bustier, let’s go.”

Marinette used all of her strength to pull her teacher out of her daze as they made a beeline down the stairs, away from the emerging victim. Without thinking, Marinette brought her phone to her ear, the number already dialing before her foot hit the ground level.

“Hey girl, what happened with Bustier? Are-”

“No time Alya, akuma outside the classroom, ring the alarm and lock the door, Bustier and I are going to be fine but help everyone else.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. They were mere steps away from the lockers when a figure dropped in front of Marinette causing her to skid to a stop.

“Caline Bustier, I see you are still the same. Coddling the bully’s feelings and dropping all responsibility for their actions on innocent students.”

Bustier tried to shake her head, deny the accusation but she couldn't find her voice. The woman cocked her head at Marinette as if trying to decide if she was worth the trouble to get to the teacher. Deciding she wasn’t, she lowered what looked like a ribbon extending from her sleeve.

“Little girl, please go, be free. I will take care of Bustier, make sure she never hurts you again.”

Marinette shook her in disbelief as she stared at the woman with curiosity.

“She’s never laid a hand on me, I think you have the wrong person.”

Hearing Marinette’s voice snapped Bustier out of her trance as she attempted to push Marinette behind her and out of danger. The akuma’s face softened as she reached out to gingerly cup Marinette’s cheek.

“I too used to think she was an angel too. Someone sent down to protect me from everything bad in this world, but she’s not. She manipulates you into thinking it’s your fault that the Lila’s of this world exists.”

“That’s not true, Stephanie, please. Leave Marinette out of this. You had so much potential, I didn’t want to see you waste it by stooping down to their level-”

“Hush witch, it’s Professor Karma now.” Her voice was cold sending a shiver down Marinette’s back as she turned her attention back to the girl. “It makes you disappointed in not only her but yourself too. You begin to think you’re to blame for everyone incapable of change. Being the bigger person takes a mental toll, let me help ease that for you.”

Marinette hadn’t noticed the relief that had seeped through her body originating from the woman’s touch. It was so soothing, she just wanted to give in and let her take all the weight from her shoulders.

“Stay away from her!”

Marinette’s eyes flew back open as Chat Noir landed a blow onto the akuma in front of her.

“You ruined the process! You dumb hero! I could’ve taken all her pain away for her, but you just had to step in didn’t you.”

Chat Noir took a defensive stance between the akuma and Marinette.

“That’s not what it looked like to me. You were lulling her to sleep, her body was turning blue!”

Marinette looked down at her hands as the blue faded back to her normal pale color. Gods, what had she almost done? The fight needs Ladybug and she was about to give in to the akuma for what? A little bit of relief?

She sidestepped as the akuma slung its ribbons trying to bring Chat Noir down. Marinette wasn’t sure how much longer he could last by himself, but she couldn't leave Bustier by herself. She reached forward gripping Bustier's hand, startling the woman.

“C’mon Mme Bustier, we need to get you out of here.”

The teacher still seemed in a daze, a longing look in her eyes directed toward the akuma.

“Go Marinette, hide, please. I need to be here for Stephanie.”

Marinette wanted to protest, but this was her chance. She had a better chance of helping her as Ladybug than as Marinette. Without looking backward, she made a run for the exit, trying to ignore Chat’s taunting as he continued playing his dangerous game of cat and mouse.

“Tikki, was the akuma right? Am I really taking a toll from just Mme. Bustier’s words?”

“Marinette, you’ve always done so much for your class and for that woman. Eventually, it was going to catch up with you, especially when everyone expects nothing less than perfect. Nobody’s perfect, not even us Gods.”

Marinette called on her transformation, Tikki’s words ringing in her head. She knew Mme. Bustier only meant well, she wanted to push Marinette to be her very best on all levels including her personal life, but Tikki was right, she expected perfect Marinette everyday and she was never allowed to slip up even for a moment.

It was exhausting.

Marinette charged into the scene just in time to catch a limp Chat Noir, his skin completely blue. Her eyes widened as she nudged his cheek, trying to elicit any sort of reaction from him.

“What did you do to him?!”

The akuma’s smile was almost ghastly, nothing like the sweet and caring woman that had held Marinette only minutes earlier.

“I took all his pain from him. Now he will be in a peaceful sleep. You should be grateful, after all, he’ll never be hurt again.”

Marinette felt a heat rushing to her face as she tried to level her emotions. Gently laying him to the ground, Marinette placed a small kiss on her forehead, almost recoiling from how icy he felt.

“Now, it is your turn Caline.”

Before Marinette could move, the akuma's hand had already reached Bustier’s face

“Sleep is too peaceful for you. No, you Caline Bustier will turn on your own methods and finally punish those who deserve it.”

Marinette swung her yo-yo and the woman, trying to pull her teacher away, but it was useless. She watched as Bustier turned a warm shade of orange, her pupils enlarging until all that was left of her eye was a small patch of white in the corner.

“Gods, no.” Marinette raised her hand to her mouth in horror at her former teacher.

With a renewed fury, Marinette swung forward dodging the ribbons that seemed to move on their own.

“C’mon hero, shouldn’t you be for this idea! This woman breaks down the strong and raises the bullies on thrones, she deserves every minute of her punishment.”

Marinette cried out as her yo-yo finally made contact with a small locket sitting on the akuma’s chest. A small purple butterfly quickly flitted out but her yo-yo was quicker snatching it mid-air. As she released the butterfly, she ran back to where her partner laid, the color fading from his skin as he returned to a healthier shade.

Once she was sure he was going to be fine, Marinette walked over to the victim.

“Stephanie? Are you okay?”

She crouched to where the woman was sitting, her locket opened in her hand. Risking a peek, Marinette’s heart melted at the small phrase that it held inside.

“If we wish to change the world, we must all learn to love each other. It’s what she first told me when I entered her class all those years ago.”

Marinette risked a look over to where Bustier stood. The woman’s eyes were wide with concern as she fiddled with her sleeve. Offering a hand to Stephanie, Marinette helped her stand.

“You really hurt me Caline. Do you understand how much of a perfectionist I became? It was unhealthy. I lost jobs for taking too long on projects because I knew I couldn't turn in something that wasn’t example worthy. Do you know how many raises I missed out on because I took the high road and let my coworkers walk all over me, claiming my victories as their own?”

Bustier opened her mouth and closed it as if she was a gaping fish. Marinette slowly became conscious of the gathering crowd, all watching the exchange between the two women.

“Maybe-”

The woman held a hand to Marinette’s face as she marched forward, her own eyes watering in frustration.

“Did you know that I finally got a job on the school board? I was coming to observe your class, confident that you had realized your error by now, but then do you know what I overhear? You scolding another poor young girl like you did to me all those years ago. Do you know how many people you have hurt?”

Marinette took a step backward as she helped Chat Noir to his feet, both unsure how to handle the situation in front of them.

“What do we do my lady?”

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do.”

They watched as the color drained from Bustier’s face as Stephanie took a step forward. Her eyes narrowed in on the woman as she cleared her throat.

“Let’s make one thing clear here. I’ll return at a random date to do this observation and if I feel in the slightest way that the young woman I saw or anyone for that matter is falling victim to your abuse then I will see to it that you never teach again. Understood?”

Bustier simply nodded as the woman turned on her heel, exiting the building as chaos exploded. Marinette shared a look with Chat Noir as they both swung out of the school, trying to keep neutral faces.

It wasn’t the way they would’ve handled it, but maybe a little karma is what they needed to push for a change and neither could deny how ready they were for that.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss

[mandalorewhore]

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter  (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily​

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man. 

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew  something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

    You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to  not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake. 

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again. 

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off  as a droid. 

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment. 

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason.  Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

    “I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness. 

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond. 

    “Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

    “Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

    “O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

    “Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine. 

    “Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops. 

    He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.” 

    There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.” 

    A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?” 

    “That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

    “Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you. 

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

    “16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous. 

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind. 

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer. 

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

 You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions. 

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

    You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?” 

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?” 

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze. 

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet. 

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness. 

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away. 

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling. 

“You can carry it from now on.” 

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit? 

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire. 

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry. 

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

------------------------------------------

 You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you. 

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

          But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on. 

You wish they would fear you like that.

          Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

          “Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

          “I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

          “Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

          “It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

          The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

          “Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector. 

          Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

          Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

          “She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you. 

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

          Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip. 

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job. 

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology. 

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome. 

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time. 

    “I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger. 

    “Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted. 

    “My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose. 

    After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

    “I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.” 

    You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

    “I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

    “Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

    This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

    “On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.” 

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously. 

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it. 

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants.  He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.” 

He waves back. “You as well, girl.” 

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------   

    It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

    Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere. 

    As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

    It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

    Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about. 

    Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path. 

    It’s almost funny how quickly things go south. 

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated. 

    “I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

    You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison. 

    The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement. 

The blast misses by a few inches. 

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

    You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

    Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

 As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here. 

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof. 

He saved your ass. Again. 

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there. 

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about. 

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is. 

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it. 

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

    He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?” 

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street. 

----------------   

The walk back to the Crest is short.

 You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall? 

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you. 

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp. 

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot. 

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it. 

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot. 

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that. 

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again. 

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him. 

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan. 

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now. 

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire. 

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach. 

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead. 

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal. 

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian. 

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.” 

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that. 

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath. 

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit. 

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game. 

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-” 

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life. 

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-” 

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt. 

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims. 

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words 

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours. 

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing. 

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.” 

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator. 

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.” 

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks. 

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness. 

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

------------------------------------------

     It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

    The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this. 

    “Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly. 

And so you do.

[randombtsprincessa]

Blackthorn Creek

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 24.1k

Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU! Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Smut!

Rating: NC-17 ranging till 18+ during the last scene, just to be safe.

Warning: Curses, magic, violence, conspiracy for treason, heavy insecurities, imprisonment of sorts, animal attacks, description of blood and injuries, mob mentality, invasion, stabbing, falling from heights, death, marital sex, first time, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (be careful folksies!) And a whole lotta cheese cause it’s Jimin and I love him.

A/N: The following work is part of the Twisted Fairtytales: Members in Distress for @ksmutclub​ I had the idea for this story sitting in my WIPS and thankfully, the project came at the perfect moment! I hope you all like it as much as I loved writing it! 

A major thank you and a glomping hug to @cuziloveyou7​ and my amazing best friend for all their support for the fic!

The night was chill.

Pale, gossamer links of snow knitted across the glass of the castle, the granite of the stairs seeping the cold through to the skin.

A light chatter was interrupted when the front doors thudded – once, twice and then another time.

It was late, after all; much too late for any visitors, too rude for guests to show up…

The King, a benign man, stood from his seat near the fire, guards surrounding their liege. The Queen looked up at her husband, worried but the King patted her shoulder, beckoning for the doors to be opened.

It would be rude to leave the doors barred too, of course. It could be someone in need.

He watched, curious, as his Maitre D’, Seokjin, walked slowly to the doors. His arms flung the heavy oaken doors open, a flourish to his actions.

“Welcome,” Jin spoke in his exaggerated voice, “to the Castle of Blackthorn Creek. To what do we owe the pleasure, and to whom, may I ask?”

There was silence, much too thick, much too tense to be someone in need, to be a friendly visitor.

“I am here, to see your King. Bring me to him.”

Seokjin stuttered in his vigor, an unnerved stance taking him over as he glanced back to the royal couple, a question to his eyes.

The King cast an eye to his right corner, where his trusted advisor sat, his shoulders visibly tight. Namjoon cleared his throat, a warning sound. “I will see him.” The King said instead, knowing it would be better to see what the stranger wanted.

His guards circled him, his wife remaining behind as he approached and stood behind Seokjin.

“You are in the presence of our Lord and King.” The man announced, drawing away with a stiff bow – unlike any he had performed before.

The King stepped forward, and looked at the man who stood at his doorstep. The man, in turn raised his head, allowing for the dark hood atop his head to fall back. His head was cast in shadows, the whites of the eyes visible as he spoke.

“Your Majesty, I have come from far lands for the pleasure of your company.”

“Consider the pleasure ours, please do come in. What can we do for you?” The King waved a hand, dismissing the surrounding guards as the stranger tilted his head, walking in with his head still held high. He stopped right inside the threshold, as the inmates of the house gazed with wonder and some horror at his visage.

His head was shaven, dark marks etched into the near blue-white skin of his face. His arms bore similar marks, sheathed in crimson robes that were certainly not the fashion of those times.

“Well,” The King pressed.

The stranger slowly blinked his unnerving eyes, a flash of green lighting them. “I hear tales of your kingdom, your generous reign in my homelands. I must say I am not disappointed.”

He finally turned his head to where the Queen sat. “I also hear tales of a beautiful daughter. Your little Princess,”

There was a ringing silence. Guards shifted in their positions, Namjoon and Seokjin drew closer to the Queen and the King froze. To all but the mysterious stranger’s eyes unknown, a small figure crouched at her mother’s skirts, face turned curious to the sudden tension in the air.

“What do you want?” It was the Queen who spoke. Her crown glinted in the firelight, her body clenched on her chair. The stranger didn’t look at her when he answered the question.

“I come with a proposal. I offer my hand in marriage with the Princess.”

There was another pause, albeit much less tense as movement started.

“Preposterous; she is but a child.” This came from Namjoon.

“I am willing to wait.” The stranger said coolly.

“Then you will be waiting forever. I will not give my child to any godforsaken man who happens across my door and throws around absurd ideas. You will never have my daughter.”

“I will be a good husband, and a good king.”

“My Liege; do we have permission to draw arms?” The guard closest to the King asked, his hand already drawing closer to his sheathed sword.

“Nay, no bloodshed; just throw this madman out to the snow.” The King spat, his cloak whirling as he turned to go back to his family.

Behind him, his men converged, arms raised to push the stranger out the palace gates.

Time seemed to slow as the men gathered around his form, which had straightened to as tall as he could get.

“You’ll find you’ve made something of a mistake…Your Majesties.”

A cruel smile curled his lips, hands cupping near his stomach. His large sleeves gave way, revealing the etched marks and even as they pulse green, his form erupted in green light, exploding out till it engulfed the entire estate.

The King buckled, his arms wrapping around his wife and child as the men began to shout, and darting away from whatever it was the demon man unleashed.

“Hear me, O great King; for your impudence, I place your most beloved under this curse. You will be reduced to nothing but a fixture; your entire household will be mere pawns to be used by commoners. And your daughter,” The smirk widened, finding the small girl who still hid, now visible to everyone as their horrified gazes found the young princess.

“Your daughter will be left all alone. Her beauty will now be gone, her temperament destroyed. She will be feared, loathed, a monstrosity that will live with your enchantment.”

“She is a child! You are hurting a child!” Finally, an anguished wail escaped the Queen but the wizards over spoke her, drowning her words.

“At the age of twenty and three, she will be rendered thus permanently. Not a thing but the truest of love can rescue her and break my curse. Only the one who will look past her form will win that honor.”

The light faded with the man’s silhouette, the only thing that remained in the blazing glimmer of the settling curse. Movement ceased, the fire died into its embers…

“You will soon find that I am the only man who is merciful and worthy enough.”

These last words echoes in the halls, sealing through the stone and glass until another sound replaced it.

The screams of a terrified little girl…

Time seemed to flow like water after the screams died.

Nobody took courage to go up to the Palace, find their rulers…the town forgot they even had rulers. Administration moved into common hands, spread to the citizens and the legend of the lost royal family became a ghost story.

The path to Blackthorn Creek remained abandoned, silent, and derelict.

In the town of course, the ghost story didn’t matter. Life had moved on, become busy, become full of bustle.

Park Jimin threw the doors of his father’s work room open, sticking his head in to check once on the aging man.

“Father, I’m out to the baker’s. Shall I bring back something?”

There was no answer from his father, just a distant sigh that said there was nothing that could be brought back that would satisfy him.

Jimin drew back, unable to curb his rising disappointment. There was something in the slump of his father’s shoulders, ever since they’d moved into the developing town of Blackthorn Creek that, as much as the exuberant Jimin tried, he simply couldn’t shake.

Perhaps, it was his mother’s death that took their house and worldly belongings. Perhaps it was the sinking of his father’s patent ship, causing such debt that there was no hope to pay it back with nothing to put up for interest.

The Park family had to relocate from their luxury in France to the eastern countryside, to this small place. It had taken all the merry from his father’s life.

Jimin, however, worked hard to keep his spirits up. This was a setback yes, but his father was a genius. He was sure to come up with another pitch that would work out. And even if he didn’t; well, Jimin would always be there to take care of his beloved father.

A basket in hand, Jimin cocked his hat, setting out for the day.

The town, as small as it was, was full of life around midday. The market bustled, the streets running with people and the pub was always open, till as late as it could get.

But even through the color, there were shades of grey. The cheerful Creek had one mighty legend; one of the local royals’ disappearance. There was a long winded street that was barred from the public, leading up to a small hill, behind which there was said to be the palace.

He had taken these myths with a small smile, aimed at the person trying to call for his attention with these stories.

But even he had to admit, such tales of mystique piqued his fancy in the most delightful way. France had been exciting, especially for a young man such as himself. Plucking him out and placing him in a much smaller world where things were…stagnant, did cause something of a blow to his vigor.

Jimin stopped, contemplating the bookshop that lay just at the edge of the forbidden path. He had a few books still remaining back home, left to be read – but perhaps, he could squeeze in another couple?

“My boy,” The shopkeeper chuckled at the frown on the young man’s face. “Are you done with those piles that you took already?”

“Not quite, sir,” Jimin grinned. “I might just pop by again soon enough.”

The shopkeeper gave him a toothy grin, watching the man glance in some wonder at the blocked off road. The mountains had already started to grow slick with frost – sign of another passing winter. “Here,” he said suddenly.

Jimin stuttered in his forward steps, retracing back to where the stooping elder held out a pale bound tome from the front window. “Sir,” he raised his eyes in puzzlement.

“It’s a little something special I had lying about collecting dust. It was surprising that this one hasn’t caught your eye as of yet but I’m sure you will enjoy it.”

Jimin gave the friendly man a smile, letting the soft book fall open upon his palms, sifting through the delicate pages. “What’s it about?”

“The very thing you’re so curious about; lost princesses, brave knights, curses, fairies…” The book keeper burst out laughing at the soft blush that crept along Jimin’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be coy, son. Our little legend is bound to attract someone.”

“I must thank you sir. I will return it as soon as I’m done.”

“Oh by all means, keep it. It’s better suited to your hands than the shelves in this old place.”

Jimin blinked. “That’s a generous gift. I hope I do it justice.”

“I’m sure you will. Now off with you; the market isn’t going to stay open all day.” The man waved Jimin off, returning to his shop.

Jimin found himself quickly immersed in the fantasy, the short stories of courage, chivalry, sacrifice and fire keeping his nose well buried in the musty pages as he found the daily shopping that he was required to do.

All was well, until the book was snatched out of his hands, a giggle soon to follow.

“Hello stranger.”

“Hyebin,” Jimin sighed, looking around to where the young girl had snapped the book shut decisively.

Hyebin had been the girl to whom Jimin owed most of his knowledge of the town. Raven haired, slim and tall, she was the beauty of the town, sister to one of the most renowned hunters in the nearby vicinity – Kai. He and his sister had taken over most of the social scene of the town, near to becoming the law itself.

And Hyebin had her eyes set on Jimin ever since he set foot within the pub; by proxy, leading her brother to pester him with offers of her hand.

“May I have my book back?”

Pale glimmering lips pouted at him, the book still clutched in her hands. “You never pay attention to me, Jimin. Not when you have books about,” she said.

“Of course that’s not the case.” The man said smoothly.

“It is so. What’s so special about books anyway?” Hyebin took a step further back, too quick for Jimin’s reaching fingers. She pried the book open rudely. “They don’t lead to too much around here.”

“There’s more to books than just material gain, Hyebin.” Jimin was becoming impatient – his eyes fixed on the way her nails dug into the delicate binding.

“If you say so, when we’re married; would you still pay more attention to books than me?”

Jimin dearly wanted to say that that would never happen but he settled for resignedly bouncing on his toes. “What if I read to you?”

“I’d fall asleep.”

“I see.” This time Jimin moved fast, hands grabbing the book from Hyebin’s distracted hold long enough to fall back a safe distance. “I need to go back home. Give your brother my best.”

By the time he got home, his father had put away his new working equipment, instead pacing about in the handkerchief living room.

“Father,” Jimin greeted, putting up his hat.

“Son, how…how was the day?” His father stopped marching, coming up to take the basket of shopping from him.

“Normal, had to dodge Hyebin as usual,” he muttered, making his father chuckle.

“One of these days that girl will marry you still.”

“Such a horrifying thought,”

“Then let me put you to ease.” Mr. Park put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, making his son look him in the eyes. “There has been some development. The ship that I lost at sea, a year ago, has been heard from. I have been called to attest to it.”

Jimin took a moment to process the news, watching his father’s eyes light up with something that was fearfully hopeful. “Do you mean that --?”

“Possibly; if it is true, we can go back to our old lives again! Think of it, Jimin! Paris, France, the beautiful sprawling house that we had to give up. Your education…” The man smiled affectionately, “We’ll have to find you a lady to wed who is at par with you.”

“Father,”

“I set off tonight! It will be a day’s journey but I know you can watch over things here.”

Jimin watched as his father hurriedly moved to the door, a coat and hat finding their way on his body and his cane and horse whip clasped to his breast. “Wish well for us, my son, our lives could be soon close to change. Do you wish for me to bring you anything back?”

“No father, just you,” Jimin bid farewell to his father, watching him disappear within the small stable to gallop away.

When Mr. Park had set out for the harbor, his spirits had been up soaring in the clouds, visions of his life returning to him in his previous splendor. Now, stood at the wooden ledge, watching crestfallen as merchants, traders, moneylenders, once his friends but now…now they had gathered around his returned goods and scavenged and distributed everything among themselves.

“Your debts are clear, Park.”

“Jimin won’t have to be in debt to us anymore, sir.”

“Go back home sir,”

Just words…nothing more, no comfort found his heart when he straddled his horse again, starting the long trek home.

The horse wouldn’t gallop, possibly sensing its master’s indolence and Mr. Park was overcome with a sudden wave of gratefulness for the animal. After all, he would have to strengthen his bones; he had to deliver the news to Jimin.

The idea of disappointing his son was probably more harrowing than that of losing his wealth yet again.

At least now they were free from debt.

There was a small whinny, attracting the older man’s attention as he looked up to see which path he was on. It was long, thin, winding up a hill he had never seen before in his life.

“Hey boy, I think we took the wrong way.” He patted the horse’s head, before getting off, grabbing the reins. “Let’s find a way out.”

A few miles in, Mr. Park stopped, short of breath.

“Where in the world are we?” He growled low, ignoring the shuddering animal behind him as he trudged on when a high, pitched sound made them both freeze.

A wolf’s howl…

There were wolves around. Mr. Park was alone with no weapons and no idea of where he was. His horse let out a sound of protest again.

“Damn it all too hell,” Mr. Park quickly climbed the horse, kicking it to speed. “Take off, boy; we don’t have any time to lose.”

His ride raised back its front legs, before racing down the way they had come.

Jimin had been anxious all day, toiling in the small garden that his father had managed to build in the front of their house. Sweat had gathered his dark hair into clumps, matting his eyes so when he hear the familiar whinny of Geureum, the horse, he smiled naturally – relieved that his father was finally back home.

“Ah father, nice to –,” he turned, his smile vanishing slowly when he saw the horse alone, pawing his hooves into the dirt, snorting impatiently.

“Geureum, where is he?” Jimin grabbed for the horse’s reins, pulling it closer to soothe it. “Where is Father?”

All Geureum did was shake his head roughly, stepping back and forth.

“Can you show me where he is, huh, boy? Come on,” He slipped his foot in the stirrup, hauling himself into the saddle. “Take me to him, Geureum.”

Geureum stopped only once when he reached a huge, wrought iron gate, roses and swans intricately welded to the metal, now rusty from disuse.

Something had prickled Jimin’s hairline when Geureum had approached the blockaded hill up to the legendary Blackthorn Creek palace but the horse had circumvented it, riding up a much thinner path up.

Jimin slipped off of the horse, patting Geureum on the side. “Stay here, boy.”

And then…with a creek that echoed through the cold night, he entered the palace, walking through huge oaken double doors to find his father.

He had to admit, for a second, standing in the atrium of the castle, he was struck by how grand it must have been. The ceiling peaked, now broken in with many of the granite slabs gone, the starry night sky clearly visible. Dirt and mud had accumulated on the marble floors, muffling the clicks of his boots just a bit.

“Father,” he called loudly before cursing to himself.

What if someone heard him? He wasn’t exactly supposed to be here.

Jimin shook his head. Who would hear him? It was a deserted castle with its family long gone. There probably had never been a family; the town had probably spun a yarn to make it special to tourists.

He crept up grand staircase, sticking close to the rails.

“Father,” he called again.

“Jimin…?”

He whirled, looking around for the source of the sound. “Yes, father it’s me.” He ventured, noticing a hand slipping out from the bars of a door. “Father!” He dropped to his knees in front of the door.

“Jimin, what are you doing here? You can’t be here, you have to leave!” His father was wailing from within, his hands grasping air in search for Jimin.

“What are you saying? Of course, I had to come! Who did this to you?”

“No! Don’t you see, Jimin? It’s true, the legends, the stories, they’re true!”

“What is true? Father, tell me who did this to you?”

“The monster; there is a monster in this castle!”

Jimin paused in trying to pry the door open, widened eyes swiveling to his father’s outstretched hands. “What?”

“It’s true! Please you have to leave! It’s dangerous!”

“Father, that can’t possibly be true!” Jimin said adamantly only to be proven wrong the next second.

A roar that sent Jimin’s hair rising to its ends erupted, echoing around the cavernous halls. A heavy weight landed on his shoulder, throwing him away from the door.

“What are you doing here?”

If there was a god, Jimin had better start praying to it, he thought, cowering away from the hunkering shadow that loomed over him. All he could discern were bright yellow eyes, slanting dark pupils glaring at him and the appendage his father had left hanging out the bars.

“Jimin!” His father chose to shout at the very moment.

Jimin watched the – the – thing – rise upon its legs, prowling further in but still remaining in the dark corner. “What are you doing here?” It asked again.

Jimin blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Here he was, in an allegedly cursed castle. His father was locked up, raving about monsters and now he was face to face with what appeared to be a huge animal…only, it talked like a human.

“I…I came for my father.” Jimin stuttered, trying to push himself back up.

The yellow eyes flickered, between Jimin and his father, before creeping back into the shadows. “You came in vain. The prisoner will not be released.”

“No wait!” Jimin called, shuffling to his feet as the figure began to draw back. “You can’t keep him here like this! He’s an old man, he’ll die!”

“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED IN MY HOME!”

Jimin froze at the sudden roar, managing to grab onto his father’s hands finally. This was real. The legend was true. The people living in the castle were monsters, cursed.

“Your…please – I’ll do anything.”

“No! He’ll stay here, locked up because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The monster began to disappear.

“Take me.” Jimin took a step forward.

The figure paused.

“What, Jimin, no – no, listen, you can’t do this!” His father yelled.

“I mean it. You take me, let him go.” Every word strengthened in his throat, conviction pushing him forward till he was barely a meter away from the monster.

“You – You’d do that? You’d stay here, in exchange for him?”

Jimin met its eye. Bright yellow to Jimin’s deep brown, when it stepped finally into the small lighted part.

Coarse, shaggy fur coated a huge, lumbering form. The bright yellow eyes that seemed so unnerving were set in a canvas of a ferocious face, the fur streaked with grey and black, a huge snout for a nose and huge fangs that protruded from its mouth.

A lesser man would’ve burst a lung screaming at the horrifying sight but Jimin managed to hide his face, backing up till he could feel his father trying to clutch at the back of his shirt.

“I…I would. Let him go and you can take me.” Jimin finally said and he was proud to say that his voice remained steady.

There was a ringing moment of doubt, flickering in the golden orbs of the monster, before with a growl it raised its paw. Jimin flinched, cringing away from the blow but it never fell. Instead, he heard a dull, metallic thunk and the heavy padlock fell to his feet.

Mr. Park fell out; the door giving way under his weight and he clung to Jimin. “No, no, please, don’t take him, keep me – I have nothing to live for anymore but my son has a whole life.” His father begged to the monster but the only reply they got was a ferocious roar. “GET OUT! If you value your life and your son’s, leave; or I will kill you both!”

The monster turned on an enormous heel, stomping back into the darkness.

The tower that Jimin was pushed into had one small window, a little too high for him to reach, but he managed to hike his nimble body up till he swung from the ledge. His fingers reddened from the strain but when he finally peeked through the window, he just barely caught the end of a huge cart, led by a snorting and neighing Geureum.

He dropped from the ledge, landing squarely on his feet upon the uneven flagstone and cursed, running two hands through his ruffled hair.

“Hello sir,”

Jimin jumped, whirling around at the smooth voice that sounded nothing like the awful grate of the monster’s growl.

“Right down here.”

Jimin backed up as far as he could against the wall before casting his eyes downwards. There was nothing on the floor, soft moss growing within the cracks with one slightly buffed up candelabrum left behind.

“Hello,” the voice said again.

“Where are you? Look, I’m not scared of anything anymore so you’re doing nothing,”

“Of course not, sir, it’s me…Kim Seokjin, the…” a sigh, “the candle holder.”

Jimin took a shuddering breath, before very slowly diverting his eyes to the golden instrument on the ground.

It wasn’t very huge, just barely above average but the sweeping extensions made it seem bigger than it needed to be. Dripping wax clung to its arms where the candles stuck, the gold sheen pale yet glinting in the bare light. Just on the handle, there was an etching…just like one of a face. Even as Jimin watched, the candles lit up, making him flinch.

“Please follow me, sir.”

Jimin gulped.

“Follow you where?”

The candelabrum, to Jimin’s astonished eyes, seemed to turn on the base.

“The Mistress is installing you in a room of your own. The household doubts you want to stay in the tower.” There was something caustic about the smooth tone of the thing. It made Jimin almost bristle and refute before he looked around the tower he was put in.

It was one of the spindle shaped ones, too thin and a little rickety. The window that he had tried to peek out was the single one allowing light in and he could feel some vertigo setting in already, if the nausea was anything to go by.

“Fine – lead the way.” He said.

Jimin had already gauged that the palace had been luxuriant in its time but now, walking quietly through the long hallways with…an animate object bouncing along in front of him, he had to admit; that the ruin that now faced him didn’t seem adjacent to what the palace must have been before.

The stone, now greenish grey had gnarled carvings etched into them. The statues that stood at corners had most of their heads broken or missing and the small beam that the candles gave off only made him all the more unsettled.

“We know it’s a little…dull – around here but we hope you’ll like it.” It was as if the thing knew what was going on in Jimin’s head.

“You said ‘we’…and ‘household’ before…but except for you…and…well, the monster,” Jimin stopped talking when the candelabrum winced.

“You…might want to be careful about that. The Mistress is sensitive and none of the people in the castle will appreciate you calling her that.”

Jimin nearly tripped on his feet when he finally processed something. “That…that thing is a she?”

He was ignored. The candelabrum stopped in front of one of the doors, double door, handles of glum silver. “This is going to be your room, sir.” Jimin didn’t answer, quietly reaching for the handle and turning it, letting himself in cautiously.

The room wasn’t lighted, most of the darkness only marred by the light streaming from a glass window. He could spy a bed at best.

Jimin was about to step in further, squinting his eyes when he heard a loud creak, possibly a considerable weight upon a floorboard and then the clink of metal.

“If you don’t like the room, we can move you.” He heard but instead of the smooth, cool voice of the candelabrum, it was gruff, low and sullen.

He whirled to see a huge part of a shadow standing well back into the room. A heavy cloak wrapped up the body, concealing it further within the darkness.

Jimin didn’t speak as the form lumbered to the open door.

“Your needs will be seen to here. My servants will attend to you.” There was a pause before it took hold of the door. “And you will meet me for dinner; every night.”

The slam of the door made Jimin jump; his immediate reaction was to run to the door and look through the keyhole. There were footsteps and a murmur of conversation but aside from that, the entire palace seemed silent.

Jimin huffed, walking over to the window to open it, casting a furtive look outside and letting out a scornful laughter. He was a good way up the ground. Jumping from the window would mean certain death and even if he only escaped, it would be with broken bones and with no horse.

He doubted the ‘Mistress’ would nurse him back to health.

“My sweetest sister,” A finger brushed under the supple cheek of Hyebin, turning her attention to her brother who loomed over her at the counter of the pub. “What has you down?”

Hyebin pouted, throwing Kai’s hand off. “I went by Park Jimin’s house this evening to see if he would take a turn with me. He wasn’t there. The house was empty.”

“Maybe he went off with that father of his.”

“Why would he? There is nothing to do for him.”

Kai cast a glance at his grumpy sister, feeling the brewing of an odd emotion that he had had for her for months now. It was a mixture of pity, annoyance and yet the unyielding need to present whatever she wanted on a golden platter. He knew that Jimin did not return even half of a quarter of affection that his sister had and while he was annoyed at her overzealous devotion, he knew that she would never falter.

She got her stubbornness from him, after all.

Now, there may be better men for Hyebin than Jimin, but she wanted him and Jimin would marry her – Kai would see to it.

“Sister,” he began.

“You promised, Kai! You promised me you would make him marry me. You don’t love me. You can’t even do this much for me!”

“Now, now, dearest,”

Hyebin’s face had reddened; her hair crackling as she swelled like a bullfrog, ready to rail at her brother when the doors on the pub crashed open, with Mr. Park falling, raving against it.

“Help,” he panted, grasping at whatever was close at hand to heave himself up. “Help, my son, my son please.”

Heads turned, eyes falling to the soaked man as snow melted and pooled around his boots, the cloak wet and snug around his head. His eyes shifted from one astonished face to another, growing more restless.

“Please! I need help. My son has been taken by a monster!”

Behind him, Kai heard Hyebin’s squawk of indignation die down, releasing instead a dainty gasp. He watched the loony man walk around, trying to clutch at the sleeves of the patrons who shook him off with scoffs until he neared the siblings, finally tumbling at Kai’s elbow.

“Please, Kai, my last hope – you…have to help. My son, my only son – gone! – taken! – I can’t take this.”

Hyebin shrunk away from the delirious old man, bundling her dress to her knees even as Kai shook his arm free. “What’s the matter, Mr. Park? Be a little clear.”

“The monster of the palace took Jimin! Trapped him in the big castle on the hill…I couldn’t do anything!”

There was a pause as Kai furrowed his brow, before a patron shouted. “Leave him, Kai. He’s probably mad with the cold!”

“I am not!” Mr. Park immediately protested, wringing roughly at the coat before slumping his head and walking out the pub, defeated. They could hear wails of anguish in the cold winds outside but none were met with sympathy.

“He ran away!” Hyebin finally screeched, sinking her nails in her brother’s arms, ire flaming again.

Kai didn’t answer, letting his arm lax while his thoughtful expression slowly merged into that of a smirk. “Hyebin, my sweet; you might just get to marry Park Jimin after all.”

Jimin didn’t know when he’d dozed off. It must have been the exhaustion of the day, the pressure, the sorrow but he had curled up in one of the dusty armchairs, closed his eyes for possibly a second, only to gather his thoughts. Now he woke up to a pitch black room, stars visible from the window and he knew it was very late into the night.

His back had cramped in his position, obliging him to get off when he heard the gentle knock on the door. He took a wary stance, waiting for the doors to be barged into but to no avail. It was probably Seokjin the candle holder, Jimin decided, going to open the door.

“My now, I thought you’d wait for all the milk to go cold before you opened the door.”

Anticipating it, Jimin was already looking to the floor, only to be met by what looked like a tea set. He watched eyes boggling as the tea pot, a tall, sleek work with a rotund belly hobbled into the room, followed by a cup, and a sugar bowl.

“Um, what…who – are you now?” He asked.

“I’m the head cook, boy. Min Yoongi’s the name, also known as the best damn teapot in the kingdom. This right here,” the snout of the teapot tipped down to the cup, “is Taehyung, the assistant cook but not the best cup even in the room because he can’t keep himself on one stupid shelf.”

“Yah Hyung,” the cup opened at its seam, as if they were lips. “Don’t be mean.”

“I wasn’t going to come at all but I can’t leave you alone. Now then to business, boy; the Princess is taking a late supper so you can eat with her. You can have some milk before you go. You look like you’ve been crying and you’re just going to upset her.”

“Upset her?” Jimin glared, as the tea cup, filled with milk jumped into his reluctant hand. “I am the one trapped here.”

“Look on the bright side.” The teapot waved its spout and all the tea materials gathered in one line, heading out the door. “There’s a splendid welcome supper to be had. Come Taehyung.” He called as he exited.

“Oh but,” the tea cup sloshed some of its content onto Jimin’s hands when it jumped down, skidding across the stone before the door shut again. The sounds of the tea cup’s protests reached Jimin even through the heavy door.

Jimin wiped his hands of his trousers, grumbling at the way he made a mess when he backed against something large.

“No need to worry, young sir. Wardrobe is always here to help!”

Golden but dusty doors banged Jimin on the face, nearly tossing him onto the floor as the wardrobe advanced, rows and rows of pristine, shiny outfits ready to be worn. Jimin gasped, clutching his nose in pain as he shook his head.

“Many apologies! It’s been a while since I’ve been opened for any event at all. I am Jung Hoseok, the royal master of robes. Please do look through the selection to pick something out. I daresay you’ll want to change out of your outfit for dinner.”

“No thanks,” Wincing, Jimin managed to get to his feet. “I’m not going to dinner with Princess Monster down there.”

“Oh dear,” he heard the wardrobe as he crossed his arms, turning to the window to glare out of it.

The long dining table had been decked out for the first time in fifteen years. Silk cloths had been draped over the mahogany, candles put up, torches wiped and lit, plates and tableware sparkled in the dancing flame of the fireplace.

Yet, none of the chairs had been pulled back.

Seokjin and Yoongi, watched, anxious as the Mistress of the Castle, their Princess prowled in front of the table, each paw taking further weight from your animal bulk.

“Your highness, perhaps…you should sit and wait.” Seokjin suggested.

“No; I will wait for the man.” You said. Your voice had dipped down to a warning growl but your household items…your staff had never been very afraid of you.

Maybe they had, once, when you had first transformed and not taken to what you had become. A monster, a huge, hunkering loathsome thing which wanted to claw and destroy anything that stood in its wake…

It had taken years, but you had somewhat been ‘tamed’ since then.

“Princess, please, do consider that if we play our cards right, this man could be your salvation.”

“You think I don’t know that? I do…I know that but…how can he be if he won’t even come to dinner?”

“Perhaps also take into consideration that the boy is trapped here. He won’t see his father or his previous life again.” Jin’s statement wasn’t met with any geniality, instead the candelabrum found himself in the vice grip of his Mistress.

“Then what should I do? Do I throw him out? Let him leave so he can bring back a mob? No! I won’t do anything and if he wants to be difficult, I can be too.”

“We know that, your highness.” Yoongi said, his spout quivering. “We just have to remember to keep our tempers in check.”

The last statement was spoken pointedly and the monster blinked its huge yellow eyes, looking down to where you were almost squeezing your Maitre ‘D. You dropped the candle holder, Seokjin bouncing back a few steps when the door to the dinner room opened.

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi’s belly turned, the porcelain splitting into a smile.

You turned, eyes trained in anticipation but what peeked in was an ornate long grandfather clock, its rose gold arms clasping the door in trepidation.

“Namjoon, where is the boy?” Seokjin asked immediately.

The royal advisor hemmed, glancing anxiously at the bunched up bulk of the Princess. “He says, he won’t be coming, your highness.”

There was a ringing silence, torn by the groans of Yoongi and Seokjin before you stood up, your clawed feet digging into the stone floor so hard it hurt.

“Fine, if he wants to be so stubborn then let him have his consequences too. Yoongi, you will bar the kitchens. He will not eat anything unless he first comes to me.”

“Princess, we can’t woo a dead man.” Namjoon said calmly but you were already dropping down from an upright position to what you were used to, on all four feet, crouching.

“I don’t care! Just…just let him starve! I don’t care if we find bones in his room.”

The three items converged, all talking together and you slammed a paw on the table, shredding the cloth. “Enough; let me go!” You roared before taking off, leaping over their heads so you could head and lock yourself in your quarters.

The silence that brushed up and closed around you as soon as the doors shut behind you and automatically locked was bliss. Yet your mind was anything but.

Hateful thoughts swirled in your mind, mostly aimed at yourself, some at the enthusiasm that your staff seemed to show for this new addition to your home and finally, venom spilling out to the man who had now entombed himself in one of your best rooms but couldn’t even show the decency to come down for dinner.

What was so difficult about dinner?

And why was he allowed to shut himself in his room when all your life you had been told to never hide yourself from the rest of the house?

Granted, all your people were now objects, magical but still just objects. Your parents had been turned to statues, forced to weather out in the overrun gardens and you had been raised by Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon mostly. Children your age; Taehyung and Jungkook had hated you in the beginning and you had never sought them out yourself.

Over time, Taehyung had forgiven you but Jungkook turned to a Duster never saw you, working quietly where you would never tread.

The rest of your household never came forward and said it; having never witnessed the event that had transformed you all but the malice was palpable. The rejection hurt, you were a child shunned and you sprouted claws much too early for anybody’s liking but you had tried.

You had tried, before giving up. You gave up because nothing happened. Fifteen years and no prince came; no fairy godmothers pointed their wands at you. The wizard never came back to see if his spell wrecked you.

All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.

No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.

No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.

This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.

“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.

You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.

Jimin had dozed off again. When he woke, it was with a start, groggy and fumbling in his movements. This was a bad habit. He needed to collect his wits about himself. Maybe it was the magic of the castle but he had to remember that he wasn’t safe in here, no matter how friendly and polite everyone…everything was being.

Somehow, in his slumber, the torches in the room had been lit, casting the place in a dazzling golden glow. The chair he had fallen asleep in again was pushed right to the edge of the room, near the window. He spied that the bed had been made with brocade bedding, surfaces had been dusted and to his surprise there was a pool at the very centre, filled with clear, almost glittering water.

Jimin’s stomach, having refused dinner with the Monster out of pride was already protesting, tossing him out of the chair in the direction of the pool. Maybe a cool drink would cheer and lift his spirits.

He sat at the engraved stone border, looking down at his haggard expression in the water, running a hand through the pool, cupping the soothing liquid up to his lips.

The minute the water passed his lips, a new sense of relief and rejuvenation passed his body, coursing through him as though adrenaline itself. Jimin got to his feet, looking about if he could ask the Wardrobe – Hoseok – where he could go to find food.

He found the spot empty, instead there stood a mannequin. On it, hung was a brand new outfit; a white spotless shirt, black trousers and blue silk coat. The mannequin stood lifeless even as Jimin stripped it, and then with apprehension brewing at his belly at accepting the gift, himself. However, unease had to wait; he was soaked, cold, and soiled. He would fall sick at that rate and then all his plans of escape would shatter. He also didn’t want to be indebted to the castle in any way.

So with a bite at his pride, he put on the outfit before pressing his ears to the door, listening for any movement. He couldn’t hear the pounds of the Princess’s paws, the clatter of any objects moving, no conversation, nothing at all.

Wary in his gait, he stepped out, keeping a light foot to lead him on when something whimpered from his side.

Jimin jumped, whirling in anticipation of roars, of overwhelming friendliness but instead a small pair of eyes beamed up at him from behind a moth eaten curtain. Running a hand over his panicking heart, Jimin’s lips tugged into a soft smile.

“Hello there,” he cooed at the pup that ventured out the curtain with three more at its tail.

“Oh, wow, puppies.” Jimin wanted to laugh at the simplicity, at the adorableness but the pups only let out soft gurgles, wrapping paws around Jimin’s legs, trying to nudge him along.

“What is it? Where are you taking me?”

Jimin allowed him to be prodded and nudged along by four small dogs, along the hallway, down the stairs and through another until he was pushing open a door, clearly the kitchen.

“Oh my,” his eyes fell first to the teapot on a wooden table, followed by the grandfather clock and candle holder he’d seen already. “What are you doing here? How did you,”

The teapot stopped when he saw the four puppies cuddling around Jimin’s feet, something of a softness melting the intricate seam of it. “Ah, of course,”

“Forgive me, I didn’t know. I was just hungry.” Jimin shyly dipped his head, knowing he was probably trespassing on some late night gossip among the staff.

“No, no, of course you’re hungry, you did show some nerve. It must’ve made you ravenous.” Seokjin bobbed towards him, wrapping a gold arm around his coat tails, dragging him to the table.

“Don’t worry, sir. We’ve spoken with the Mistress. She’s going to show some leniency. She won’t come down to dinner the same time as you do…unless you request it.” Namjoon the clock lied smoothly.

Jimin was sat at the table by Seokjin, a napkin pressed at him by the teapot as dishes and plates of food began to dance around the length of the table, piling upon the plate presented to him to eat.

“I…thank you.” Jimin frowned, unable to think of anything more to say.

“You may also wander the castle and grounds as you wish. One of us will always be found around and the Guides,” Yoongi pointed its spout at the four pups that stood lined near the door, “will be your companions mostly.”

Jimin looked down at the hearty meal in front of him before digging in. “That will be very nice. Thank you.” He said around a mouthful of potatoes.

True to their words, the castle and grounds were left wide open for the curious Jimin. He woke up to a wonderful outfit slung on the mannequin; suits, coats, wonderful silks and soft cashmeres to drape over his body. The wardrobe – Hoseok, had returned, helping Jimin dress for the day’s adventures.

Jimin would eat breakfast in his room, sitting at the edge of the pool where – he wondered if it was his imagination – the water seemed to move to entertain him. He would climb over stiles; sniff the glowing flowers, count stars and fireflies if he stayed out too late. The castle, upon inspection was vast. Huge statues imposed upon him, Grecian, roman and baroque architecture worked itself seamlessly in the palace and he had fun listening to Namjoon talking about each was worked in or acquired.

He was very rarely alone.

The Guides, as the staff called the small pups were always with him. He had learned their names from Taehyung, the tea cup. The fluffy brown one was Holly, a pair of small Pomeranians that shaded darker was Mickey and Yeontan and then finally a pure white one named Monnie.

They led him in and out the lands, sometimes through a grotto where the only thing that nestled was a pair of entwined huge statues. He had stopped and stared up at them for quite a while. They were probably the biggest in the entire castle, both wearing a pained, sorrowed expression that bore Jimin’s own heart down. He didn’t venture in that particular grotto again. It felt too…private somehow.

Jimin was given dinner in the main dining room, the long table decked out only for him. He would sometimes cast a look upon the opposite chair, feeling lonely even if he had multiple entities to talk to.

The Princess never came upon in Jimin’s presence for days. He could sometimes hear the paws of her feet on the floor when he was roaming about, but she never once tried to impose herself on him. It was almost as if she watched him watch her home from afar.

Something in Jimin tugged when he thought about home, how he had completely left behind his straggly little town for this palatial world. He missed his father terribly yes, but here in the estate that he was free to roam, with people whose knowledge he was free to peck at, the silence had turned blissful very quickly.

Thoughts of escape never strayed further from his mind but for now, he wanted to stay cocooned in this silence.

It was almost two weeks till he was made aware of the very real presence of the mysterious Princess. He was used to her being a phantom by now so when the Guides playfully nipped at each other, chasing down a corridor, Jimin followed at ease, not feeling the pricks of unease until he reached the darker end of the corridor.

It was a whole quarter, possibly belonging to one of the royal family. He peeked into the empty bath before venturing further into the darkened opening.

The palace that had been warmed by fire for their new guest – or prisoner, however Jimin wanted to look at it had failed here. There was an odd chill running through the walls, as if someone had sucked the temperature and doused the room in ice.

The furniture was all dusty, clearly not attended to, and silver and cream paint peeled from the walls. He could almost spy the moss that collected in the cracks of the walls before he came to stand in front of the wall of paintings.

Each and every face on the walls, Jimin noted had been slashed. It was a brutal mutilation, clearly from the Princess’s claws. There was one painting that remained, of what had to be the royal couple. A tall, regal man stood at the side of an equally prim lady who sat on an armchair. One of his hands clasped her shoulders while hers held on to a young child, poised delicately upon her knee.

The child, a girl wasn’t having it though. He could tell the struggle of her flailing arms and kicking feet yet her face was void of distress. Instead he stared at the laughing, playing child, baby curls fluttering around her ears, thick fingers and chubby cheeks – the full deal. A small golden tiara nestled upon her head, crooked from her movement.

The picture was so happy; it brought a catch to Jimin’s throat, looking back up at the couple, tearing his eyes from the once human Princess. There was something hauntingly familiar about the faces yet Jimin couldn’t put his finger on it.

So engrossed he was, in staring at the pictures, moving on to where he tried to put together shredded pieces of the painting together that he failed to notice the silence. There was no yapping of the puppies to be heard and this silence was anything but comfortable.

When the door squeaked open, Jimin turned, coming face to face with the monster who had been diligently avoiding him. Half her furry face was shadowed, but he could tell from the single wide open yellow eye that he wasn’t an expected sight.

The eyes darted from his face to his hands, placed upon the paintings. Jimin had barely opened his mouth, to apologize, to explain, perhaps to snap but the Princess had already dropped to her haunches, a low growl ripping through the back of her throat.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? HOW DARE YOU COME HERE?”

Jimin stumbled back, pressing against the wall as the monstrous Princess leapt, scrambling towards the paintings and covering them up.

“I…I was just,”

“LEAVE! I WANT YOU OUT. GO! NOW,”

Jimin had heard enough and it presented a brilliant opportunity to him. She wanted him to leave. He could leave.

So quick he was, sidestepping the crouching girl that he had no time to see her fall to the floor, the cloak that covered and hid her body wrapped protectively around as a whimper replaced her roars. The Princess’s sobs never reached Jimin’s ears.

He didn’t wait to find any of the household staff. He knew that they would ultimately attempt to stop him, try to make sense of the Princess’s commands. So he hurried down the stairs and out the side to where he’d found the stables.

His own Geureum was gone, with his father but he yanked on the reins of a white stallion; titled Jjangu on his crest. Jimin saddled the panicking horse blindly, patting it only once to soothe it before he was mounting and taking off in the distance of the town.

Your roaring yells had reached the ears of the household, of course. Namjoon was the first to respond, sliding into the royal quarters; his wooden stand skidding as he found you curled up under the one painting that you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy.

It was your family portrait, commissioned just two years before your lives would change forever and while you had torn up every picture of your face that hung up, you couldn’t destroy your parent’s.

Namjoon could tell from the shudders that shook your form that you were just finishing crying. Propriety dictated that he wouldn’t trespass on a royal in distress but you were his charge, he had raised you, taught you, attempted to feed you since he could bring your fear and panic at being transformed into a beast to heel.

“Princess…Y/N,” He coaxed, golden bars running through the shaggy mass where your hair would be. His heart ached at the soft sniffles that sounded too loud because you…you weren’t human after all.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. And it’s okay to not be, you won’t be less of a person for your troubles.”

You raised your head with a deep scoffing laugh. “I am not a person, Namjoon. I’m a monster; a loathsome creature.”

The clock ticked angrily but didn’t prod the issue. “The boy -,”

“Left; I scared him off. That’s that then.”

Namjoon shook his head, casting a glance out to where the snow had become wilder, until only white could be seen. “Your highness, he left in a terrible condition. He’ll get lost.”

“I don’t care.”

“Princess, Namjoon,” Two heads turned to where Seokjin rushed in, candles burning on his many wicks. “The boy, Jimin, he has taken off on your horse! He’s taken Jjangu.”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD?” You screeched loudly enough for both grown men…objects to flinch. “MY HORSE…HOW COULD HE DARE, HE -,”

“Princess, the wolves, if the wolves find them, it will be too late,” Seokjin murmured softly.

There was a heavy pregnant pause in which Namjoon and Seokjin stared at their Mistress, holding her shaggy head aloft as if she was praying for pity. Finally, under the gaze of your caretakers and advisors, you slumped, admitting defeat.

“Alright, alright, I suppose we can’t leave him to die in the blizzard.”

When you had first transformed, a howl had been the first thing that had scared you. Your small hands and feet had turned into paws, huge claws protruding from the nails. Your hair seemed to grow everywhere until you were taught that it was fur, too coarse and too matted to be what had been a well taken care of head of hair.

Your first memories after the transformation had been running away, tripping and falling multiple times because you weren’t used to your new body until Namjoon and Yoongi had found you, cowering under a broken branch. Howls had pushed you into a scared ball and when they’d found you, they’d spoken. You could still remember a clock and a teapot trying to act brave as a single wolf, too big and gleaming in the moonlight curled back its lips, issuing the threat that had locked you in your castle forever.

Of course, with age and your guardian’s patience you had honed your new abilities; speed, agility, strength and keen senses.

It was easy finding your fearful horse and Jimin, running on all fours as if a wolf yourself. Your ears pricked, picking up the yells of the man and whinnying as wolves surrounded your charges on all sides.

It was stupid to charge in head first, but when you saw a wolf snap Jimin’s weapon, a single stick in two between its jaws, it was exactly what you did.

Your first powerful spring, landed you clean behind Jimin’s now buckled body. The wolves immediately halted, intelligent eyes darting from the curling boy at your feet back to you, tongues rolling perversely.

You felt rather than saw Jimin raise his head, wondering why the wolves hadn’t ended him already. When he felt the larger presence behind him, he turned, gaping up at you as you placed one paw to the front, marking a line, marking a territory.

Loud snaps surrounded you, the wolves reorganizing till they circled you now, ready to attack from every direction.

Your eyes, however, sought one wolf out, finding its way back, sitting on its hind legs, tail wrapped around them. You snarled at it, the wolf obviously smirking at you before it rose up, stalking over to the head of the pack. It gave a short yap and the wolves, in once sleek, collective move, pounced.

You only had time to jump over Jimin, drawing the attack away from the human and your precious horse before you felt the first swipe of claws at your back. You whirled around, your own paws frantically hitting and lashing out, trying to bat away as many wolves as you could with as much force as you could muster.

You knew you couldn’t kill them, of course but it wouldn’t be for the lack of trying.

The wolves landed as many blows as they could on you, punishing you, sinking in teeth around your wrist, snapping around your ankles until you could smell the warm, metal in the air, from mostly your wounds.

“Enough,” You finally heard the one wolf, it’s comrades backing away with one word until you were left, swaying, eye to eye with its imperious gaze.

“Back off.” You growled but the only reply you got was a rough snicker, animalistic and feral.

“We would, just to see you fail in this attempt, Princess. We still wait for our master, and the day he becomes King, we shall have the boy for dinner. Another time,” The wolf tipped its tail at you, before turning and trotting off.

Jimin only raised his head when the sounds he could hear was the stamps of the horse’s hoofs, the whistling of the wind through his hair. When he peeked through slatted eyes, he could see you, tall, bulky, standing up to your full height as he caught the wolf farther away, dainty steps carrying it till it melted in the snow.

Jimin’s black robes that he hadn’t changed when he rushed out where wet, dirty again and he picked himself up, trying not to make too much sound lest you turn and put him through the same assault as you had the wolves.

He had heard the heavy thuds of your paws, the throwing around of the wolves as they banged against trees and rocks. He knew you could shatter his skull with one paw but then he’d also heard your screams of pain, each singing through him as you tried to keep the wolves away from him and your horse.

He reached the reins, about to climb on when he saw the horse’s eyes for the first time. They were wide, the neck bobbing as it tried to free itself from Jimin’s holding.

Jimin frowned, turning from the horse to where you stood and for the first time, he saw the damage inflicted upon you. Your heavy cloak had been ripped to tatters, hanging off of you in ribbons that exposed him to you. You wore pants, to contain the large hind legs, a simple men’s shirt. It was now smeared in stark red, the crimson pooling from your feet and arms into the pure snow below.

He watched as you tilted to the side, your weight finally tipping extreme and you collapsed, snow and blood flying from the impact.

Jimin turned to the horse again, reading the pain in the horse’s eyes.

It loved you.

Jimin once again turned to where your body lay, shivering just so slightly.

You were just a child, a cursed little baby girl.

Jimin’s mind flooded with images of a small girl in the painting, phantom giggles in his ears.

You saved him. He couldn’t leave you to die.

Jimin dropped the reins, his feet sinking into the inches deep snow as he ran over to you, kneeling down to turn your face towards him.

Your eyes were long closed, your mouth parted just enough for him to see the fangs within but he looked past that. Your fur was wet, both from the melting snow but also from your blood and as he cupped your huge head, he knew you wouldn’t last in this cold. Already, your breathing was erratic, your chest falling further with each exhale.

He looked to the horse that trotted closer, responding to the man who was helping his owner. It took severe effort, hefting the Princess but Jjangu was unexpectedly strong. The Princess lay across the horse, feet and head dangling and swaying as Jimin took the reins again, deciding to walk as he made his way back to the Castle, your home.

If the household staff was surprised to see Jimin back again, especially with an injured Princess lobbed across her horse, they didn’t express it. Instead they swarmed, concerned around where Jimin heaved and unceremoniously dropped the Princess at the base of the stairs.

While a coat rack took a shivering Jjangu back to the stables to be fed and warmed, Jimin helped the rest of the objects drag their Mistress to the sitting room.

“Great, what’s she gotten into now?” He heard as he unbuttoned his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“Not now, Jungkook; she’s injured badly, near death. Either help, or stay out of the way as always.”

Jimin tilted his head towards the sullen reply, straining to hear. “Gladly, if I never see her face, it will be too soon. She’s the reason we’re like this, or have you forgotten?”

“Jungkook, that’s enough!” He heard the low angry rasp of Namjoon’s voice when there was a shuffle in his eyesight.

The Princess seemed to be able to tell that she was safe again, grunting and whining as she sat propped up in a huge winged armchair. Her tattered robes had been shed off, her modesty preserved by the fact that she was entirely covered in fur but Jimin kept his eyes averted respectfully anyway. Her large legs were drawn up as she clutched her wounded, slashed appendage close to her body.

As Yoongi hobbled over, full of hot water, followed by medicine bottles on a spidery tray that clattered, Jimin ripped bandages. He filled up a golden bowl with the steaming water, dipping medicine and cloths in it.

The moment he stood up, intending to nurse the Princess, she flinched, surprising Jimin as she cowered away from him. She turned her back, and he could hear a distinct whimper, as she licked at her injuries.

She’s not used to being vulnerable, Jimin realized, his slack frame pushed to movement with the fear that her licking and prodding would infect and worsen the slashes.

“Now, now, don’t do that.” He moved too fast, grabbing a hold of the Princess’s shoulder and was immediately met with a wide open maw, her ferocious roar shifting his hair back.

Jimin dropped his hand, scowling at the stubborn slump of her arm, drawn back to her tongue. “You’ll make it worse. Just let me help.”

“It hurts.” She snapped when Jimin leaned right over her, attempting to wipe at the mangled arm.

“If you hold still, maybe it won’t.” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to snap at the already pained girl. Her screams at the biting and slashing wolves were still too fresh in Jimin’s mind. He wanted to show some kindness but she was just so…pigheaded.

“Maybe if you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t be hurt.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows at her petulant tone. If he wasn’t already aware, he would’ve believed the Princess to still be a child at the sullen note of her voice. Something tugged at the corners of his lips as she attempted to cross her arms; the clawed up one still dangling in his hold.

“You told me to leave, remember?”

“I didn’t mean the castle.”

Jimin dropped the bloodied cloth in a waste bowl. “I suppose the lesson here is that you should watch your temper, isn’t it?” He made an exaggerated show of dipping another cloth in the medicine bowl, ignoring the Princess as she huffed and dropped her huge head on an equally huge paw, distinctly pouting.

“Please hold still now, this is going to pinch some.” He used the same tone as he would on his father, concentrating at digging out some remaining bits of grime from the claw marks. A few of his swipes made the Princess cringe and try to pull away but not once did her strength win against his sharp glances and sudden tightening of grips as he repeated the process on her feet.

Finally as he did the bandages he spoke again.

“Thank you, for saving my life.”

The Princess was quiet for so long that Jimin had to chance a look up, catching her quickly smoothening her expression into one of nonchalance. “You’re welcome.” She growled lowly.

But Jimin had already seen the bitten lips, the downward slope of her brow and the glassiness of her eyes.

He stayed right there, on the floor at her feet for a while, until the Princess, who had been staring into the fireplace had her eyes drooping. He stood when he was sure she was asleep, snores shuffling the fur near her mouth and nose.

Jimin folded back the sleeves on his muddy shirt. He knew he needed to change his clothes if he wanted to stay well, if he was sick as well, who would take care of the Princess? He hardly thought Seokjin’s candle hands or Namjoon’s golden bars would be able to change soiled bandages and he could already feel a chill coming.

Placing a huge blanket on the sleeping Princess, he went up to his room to change.

“How is she?” Hoseok asked immediately, as he shuffled inside for something to wear.

“She’ll have a few days with that bandage. It’ll probably scar.” Jimin answered tiredly, dropping his clothes and entering the bath where Yoongi was already pouring hot water in the tub.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said as he stood by. Jimin turned his head to look at the gleaming pot in question. “For not leaving her to die,” Yoongi clarified.

“Of course not…I will admit I had the thought but, I couldn’t. Not after she’d risked hers to save mine and Jjangu.”

“Jjangu was a gift foal from her father. She loves the animal more than anything.” Jimin heard before with a click of the bathroom door, he was alone.

He sighed, laying his head back along the porcelain edge. He was desperately exhausted, aching and needed to sleep, but there was a gnawing in his chest. He knew the Princess was in good hands now; he would only be needed when she needed her bandages changed and he knew she could manage that herself but he found it difficult to not be worried for the girl that somehow seemed so small and scared in all her ferocious enormity.

“Maybe…maybe I could try to be her friend.” Jimin mumbled, more to himself than anything as he closed his eyes.

Jimin took his vow seriously.

The first thing he did when his eyes popped open and fell on the customary outfit left for him; a simple powder blue shirt and black trousers – was to jump up and get dressed even before Hoseok had opened the eyes on top of it.

Quietly, he made his way down to where the Princess was still snoozing in the chair, flinging open curtains and inching closer just in case she woke up and panicked.

“Princess,” Jimin called gently, her head moving just so. “Your highness, wake up.”

With a groggy groan, her head fell towards his direction, yellow eyes blinking open in the filtering morning light.

And to the Princess’s dawning wonder and shock, Jimin gave her a beautiful, wide grin; possibly the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed in her life.

From then on, both Jimin and Y/N tried to make an effort.

Y/N still felt her temper flare up quick as a snake’s attack but she quelled it in fear of the look on Jimin’s face. Jimin learned that despite her age, the Princess was still just a sheltered child who knew only what had been told to her.

Jimin tried to get you to participate in various activities. He taught you a few card tricks with a very old battered set that Seokjin unearthed, he told you stories of France, his life, what the world had to offer outside of the small town that had forgotten and abandoned her, he even tried to paint with her – although that ended in a disaster that had Yoongi steaming from his spout, Taehyung quickly sent to supervise the cleaning.

You, on the other hand, took Jimin outside.

Even though, Jimin had had the Guides to lead him places, no one knew the Castle and its grounds like you did, having spent fifteen years prowling and growing in it.

You allowed him to ride Jjangu while you walked, sometimes raced him. He had to change your bandages multiple times during these rides, noting with some joy that you healed faster than a human.

With four wild puppies and Jjangu, you took him to the top of a stile where in the falling night; he could count a multitude of stars and constellations. You threw Jimin in fountains; let him sift through flowers in the crumbling greenhouse, taste the fruits from the Grottos.

“My parents,” you pointed with a clawed finger, up at the huge entwined statues that had haunted Jimin before. He looked, focused on their faces more now, recognizing them from the portrait.

“Are they…gone?”

“No, just left frozen, to watch over what happens to me,”

Jimin turned to see you staring down at your palms, the story of the curse now making him enraged for your sake rather than sad. However, he kept mum, afraid of upsetting you rather than providing comfort. Instead, he took your huge gnarled hand, leading you quietly back.

Jimin and you took meals together now, lunches and dinners. He had unintentionally grimaced when he saw you simply lower your face and devour the food directly from the bowls and plates. In time, once he saw you try for him sake, he realized that your hands were simply too big for the dainty silverware and fragile glass goblets that fitted so perfectly in his.

So the next meal, Jimin surprised you by asking Taehyung to simply not provide any at all, raising his own bowl to his lips to eat as you did.

Your smile, huge, fanged, fur creasing in the corners of your mouth yet so happy, golden hue shining in your eyes, made him make it a habit to accommodate you, rather than ask you to change for him.

“Can I open them now?”

Jimin followed the trail of your cloak, sight barred by his hands as you attempted to lead him off for a surprise. You had been excited, the morning you simply strode into his room before he was even dressed. He had rushed behind Hoseok, who laughed at the pink of his cheeks and flustered backing away from you, until you claimed that ‘it was ready’ as he hurriedly put some clothes on.

“Not yet,”

Jimin heard the creak of doors, the clangs of curtain rings and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.

“Okay, open them.”

Jimin dropped his hands with an indulgent smile, first looking at where you stood at the window, paws clasped together, and a nervous grin on your animal face. Your ears stood on point, waiting for his reaction as Jimin’s eyes wandered…and then widened till they were ready to pop right out.

It was a library.

A wonderful, glorious library, better than the dingy bookshop in town, better than any he’d seen in Paris. This was better than anything anyone could create in the whole world. Towering till the eye could see, with ladders and actual staircases leading up, his neck strained trying to fathom just how many books there were there.

“Oh my god,”

“Do you like it?”

Jimin looked down at where you were nearly vibrating with nervous energy.

“I had it cleaned, that’s what took so long. Seokjin told me you loved reading so I thought you should have this. I don’t know if everything is alright, but I checked last night and,” You stopped rambling when Jimin said your name. It was just a soft whisper but it tore a shiver through you at the tenderness, the fondness in it.

You had never heard anyone speak to you like that – not even your caretakers.

Jimin was practically aglow. His eyes shone as if someone lit coals underneath, his teeth blinded with the power of his smile, before his eyes turned to invisible slits.

“I absolutely love it, Y/N. Thank you; no one has ever done something like this for me before. This is perfect.” He strode forwards, his hand reaching for your face where his fingers nestled within the shaggy fur on your cheeks. He kept his smile fixed, nails gently scratching as your breath caught at the affection.

Jimin stared up at you, his own eyes and face sobering at the wide eyed look on your face. His fingers slowed till they just rested there, the both of you staring at one another.

“Ahem,” Jimin finally cleared his throat, removing his hand from your face. Was that disappointment he saw across your face? He turned to the shelves. “What shall we read first?”

Something thudded in Jimin’s chest, racing his blood with adrenaline as you and he sat on the floor in the sitting room, books strewn around you and the fireplace bathing you in heat.

“…and they lived happily ever after.” Jimin finished, closing the fifth book.

He had laughed and placed his head on yours when he discovered that you loved stories as much as he did. You had demanded him to read for you with one, two and the next three books. Jimin had happily obliged, enjoying the way you now sprawled on your front, arms cradling your head, looking at him with such a rapturous expression, he could melt.

“Read…one more…?” Jimin looked down to where you slid another book in his lap. Your eyes were big, hopeful and the rush of emotion that swirled in Jimin’s stomach was nowhere polite. He thought back to Hyebin, wanting to be married to him and yet knowing that she would fall asleep at the one thing Jimin was so passionate about. He cursed himself for the comparison. There was none. Hyebin wouldn’t even occupy the shadow of who you were.

“Y/N…I’m tired. How about you read for me now?” he leaned back on his arms, nudging the book back at you.

You paused, sitting up slowly before taking the book in your huge hands.

“I…I’ll rip it.”

“I’ll fix it back for you.” Jimin said immediately.

Your face fell as you opened the book, taking some time to flip it to the first page. Jimin watched; somewhat concerned as you slowly read the first of the fairytales.

“Once…up – on, a time…”

“Y/N, love,” Jimin had no time to worry about the endearment that slipped his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I can’t,”

“Can’t…read…?” He guessed.

You nodded quickly, fearfully.

“Oh, I thought Namjoon taught you.”

“Alphabets, a little book of stories and history…but I…I can’t read big literature. I can’t even hold books.”

Jimin’s heart cracked as you glared fiercely at your hands again.

“No matter, I’ll teach you, here, come now. I’ll hold the book for you.” Jimin grabbed the book, holding it open for you as he slowly, pronounced the words, you following him.

Behind you, unbeknownst to both of you, Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung sighed dreamily.

“Think they’re in love yet?” Jungkook drawled from behind them.

“Not just yet, I suppose, but they’re getting there.” Namjoon said.

“They need one more push.” Yoongi muttered.

“And what better than…a ball,” Seokjin glanced at Taehyung, wearing identical smirks.

Hyebin lay on her front, draped along the chaise in a manner that would have most men in the town be willing to do her bidding. The one she wanted, however, hadn’t even gone past the town in ages. She was bored; dejected from the lack of attention and her brother – she cast a venomous look to where her older sibling paced in front of the fireplace – hadn’t done a thing for her.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hyebin. I’m thinking.” Kai said, catching her eye.

“Well, perhaps you could think later. Isn’t this the time for action?” Hyebin cupped her face.

“Not yet; your impulse is what ruined your chances with the boy in the first place.”

Hyebin scowled.

“But don’t you worry your pretty head, darling sister, for your brother has a wonderful plan in mind.”

“Which is…?”

“Never mind you, you will go about ruining things and Jimin won’t marry you as well. You will only blame me.”

Hyebin slammed a small fist on the chaise. “Kai…tell me!” She whined but Kai only walked to the door, opening it as he tossed her a cloak. “Come on, we’re going to play nice and talk it out with Park Jimin.”

Much to their disappointment, however, and to Hyebin’s rage, when they arrives at the cottage of the Parks, it was completely dark. Not even one candle had been lit on the porch.

Kai knocked; once, twice, thrice even yelled for both Jimin and Mr. Park but the only thing to reply was the keening silence.

“They’re not here.” He mused.

“You don’t think they…left, do you?” Hyebin whispered.

“All their things are still here.” Kai’s eyebrows creased, flickers of annoyance and true anger flaming in his own eyes. “Well, we won’t stop. They have to come back some day. We’ll be ready.” He ignored the smack of his sister’s hand at his back, striding back towards the pub.

He needed a drink.

When you entered your quarters after a day of playing in the gardens with Jimin, watching him weave a crown of roses and dandelions which he placed on your head, you weren’t expecting to see Seokjin standing there with a bunch of standees and mannequins that used to be ladies in waiting for your mother.

“Um…Seokjin,” You queried even as you were swarmed with too many ceramic hands.

“’Tis the day, your highness, it is the day of your birthday! We have to have a ball in the honor!” Seokjin exclaimed.

You were shoved in a tub full of hot water and bubbles, the soap soaking into your fur. The words were enough to shoot a tendril of doubt through your heart, snaking till it looped around and squeezed. Your breath deepened as the mannequins began to scrub at you, rubbing in the water and soap till it reached the skin underneath.

It was your birthday already? No, it couldn’t be. You would remain a monster for all eternity otherwise. You would be condemned to live like this. Loveless, because who would look at you and feel anything but disgust and terror?

“Seokjin, my birthday isn’t till one another day.” You reminded the Maitre D` from behind the screen.

“The actual day isn’t of import, Princess. Besides,” He lowered his voice, “the day of your birthday will be the last day of the curse. It is make or break for us. You have to tell Jimin of your feelings for him and he has to return it. We simply cannot leave these things till the last minute.”

You remained silent, watching the mannequins use huge metal buffers to file and shine your claws.

“You…you do – you do have feelings for him, don’t you Your Highness?” Seokjin asked, misreading your silence.

You sighed, dipping further down into the water. Of course you had feelings for Park Jimin. Only an idiot would have a man like him around and not fall for his kindness, his generosity, and his open mind. Also, the small slants of his eyes, the way his lips split to reveal a gleaming smile that could halt an army, with shiny dark hair that fell into his eyes.

He was an angel.

And you were a hideous beast…

“It’s not my feelings that are a problem, Seokjin. How can someone like him ever feel for me, unless it’s fear? Maybe I haven’t earned his affection still.”

“Ah phish-posh, you forget, dearest Princess; we have all watched you and him very closely. We have seen the way he looks at you. Only a man that loves someone will have such a beam to their face.”

You sunk down further, Seokjin’s words easing the nervous grip in your chest a little. Perhaps…you did stand a chance. You could tell him of how you felt, he would tell you what he felt, and maybe you and your people can become human again.

You held the hope close as you were ushered to your own wardrobe, gowns that you had never once had the occasion of wearing, now shoved against your body and you into them, made to twirl in front of a huge mirror to check for anything to improve.

The time had come.

The gown that both Seokjin and the lady in waiting had chosen was approved by Hoseok finally, him making you swish the skirt and twirl in front of it, while pins and needles were floating around you, just in case things needed to be loosened or tightened anywhere.

You, who for almost all your life had only donned on the left behind clothes of your father of the male staff had almost giggled at the fancy attention, enjoying the feel of silk and gossamer curling around you and pooling out from your waist.

The dress was a pale gold and silver, shimmering with crimson jewels strewn about the skirt. A heavy diamond brooch glittered to where the bodice and neckline fell in a waterfall of fabric and your hair had been lifted from the mass of fur at your neck, rolled up elegantly till it lay in a soft mass on top of your head.

“Your highness,” Seokjin said finally and you were surprised at the sniff he let out discreetly. “You look beautiful. Come, your gentleman waits.”

You followed the candelabrum, exiting the room as Seokjin led you to the ballroom, to where the stairs led up to where royals made their grand entrance. You could hear light conversations down below and if you close your eyes, you could almost imagine that it was really a ball of people come to wish you good fortune on your birthday.

Maybe, if you could put aside your doubts and the harsh truths that crushed hope in your chest, you could have it someday soon.

You heard the Maestro, now transformed into a sprawling Organ, strike up a tune and Seokjin swished a golden bracket, gesturing you to walk down.

You lifted up the enormous skirts, praying to anything divine that your claws, now shortened down and sparkling, wouldn’t rip the dress anywhere and walked down the stairs, seeing everyone gathered at the base of the staircase, smiling up.

Mostly, though, you only noticed Jimin.

It was true, you hadn’t paid much attention to what kind of clothes Hoseok had been putting on Jimin for the duration of his stay here. Before, it used to be rich fabrics and embellishments that glimmered with his movements. The moment of your friendship and he began to step out had caused for simple cloths, sans coats and cloaks unless it was snowing.

Now, Hoseok seemed to have pulled all stops.

The suit that Jimin wore was all black, form fitting with studded rubies along the lapels and buttons the same shade as yours. Gold lace wound around his neck and his hair shone with the same effort, as if he’d undergone the treatment you had as well.

He smiled widely when your eyes met his, stepping forward till he reached you.

“You’re stunning.” He said and you could only muster a shaky smile, fluttering from the sincere compliment. “Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, bowing as he extended a hand for you to take.

You let your paw rest gently on his, deliberate and careful not to let him feet the real weight of it. “Thank you,” you managed a smile as wide as his, before the rest of your household gathered around you, wishes poured out and rushed words carrying you off to the cake.

Jimin was excited to see the cake, three tiers of it. Y/N’s eyes popped open wide, gaping at the sheer size of it but even as he grabbed her hand, leading her to cut into it; she was looking down, trying to muffle a smile.

He had to commend Yoongi and the entire kitchen staff. The cake was rich, fudgy and even he was rushing after that very last crumble. Finally, he felt the nudge of Taehyung, the cup around his ankle and he moved into action.

“Could I request for the birthday girl to bestow me a dance, your highness?” He stood up from his chair, slyly winking over to where Y/N put down her plate quickly, looking almost as if she was going to laugh.

“Of course, kind sir but I should warn you – I may step on your toes.”

Jimin chuckled, pulling her onto the glittering marble dance floor. “I don’t mind; you can step on my toes anytime.”

Y/N blinked down at him, Jimin could feel her breath catch at the way he would his arm around her waist and clasped her hand and couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to, moving slowly along with the way he led her, her attention focused down mostly to keep from actually crushing his feet when he stopped moving.

“Come on, let’s go look at the stars. Tonight, they’re as much more gorgeous than ever, as if they’re shining solely for you.”

He walked back with Y/N in tow, opening the balcony doors and letting her go out first before he shut them again, turning to see her stand at the rails, looking up where the stars mirrored in her golden eyes, twinkling in the sky and on the earth alike.

“So,” Jimin cleared his throat, gaining her attention again. “Are you enjoying your early birthday festivities?”

Big eyes blinked yet again at him, something shifting beneath as they were lowered. “I am, much more than I would usually, I suppose. I haven’t had a birthday in fifteen years.”

It was Jimin’s turn to blink, only in horror. “Not one in fifteen years?” he asked.

“Well, Taehyung tried, for the first two years, but then…I had no one to share it with. I had no one.”

Jimin closed in to where she stood with her back to him. His hand ached to rest along her cheek, turn her so he could look at her face but he resisted. “You have me now.”

She still didn’t turn. “Jimin…” A breath was drawn, as if steeling her for some deep resolve. He watched as your shoulders, clad in golden shimmers he wasn’t used to seeing her in slumped finally. “Are you happy here, with me?”

Jimin’s first instinct was to blurt out a simple ‘yes’. Was he happy here? Yes, he had everything he could possibly dream of and more here. He had the library, the gardens, the long winding hallways, the grottos…the silence, oh god, the blissful silence where no one bore down on him, no one judged him for not eyeing girls, not being interested in hanging out around the pub, not being Kai’s lackeys.

Was he happy with you? Of course, he, for the first time, felt someone was completely understanding and kind to him. No matter that he was perhaps the first to show her human kindness too but she let him be when he needed, listened to him read, asked him questions and challenged him. She fulfilled him in a way no one had.

No, they were two whole people. They had just found fulfillment in each other, and he was happy to call her home as much as the castle. He was happy. He was content.

Y/N didn’t seem satisfied. Her head turned fractionally, peering at him in such a fashion as to confuse Jimin. “Wouldn’t you ask for anything else, if you could? There must be something more you could ask for.”

Jimin hesitated, once again hand hovering over her but unable to touch. “I…yes,” he sighed, dropping his hand. “I would ask to see my father again but,” he quickly rushed on, lest she be upset. “I know I can’t, so I won’t press for it.”

She turned finally, too fast for him to not be startled. “There is a way. You can see your father.”

Jimin frowned, crossing his arms, more to protect himself against the temptation than defiance. “How?”

The Princess quietly walked by him, opening the doors and carrying on, Jimin taking a moment to follow hurriedly after her, still confused and a little worried before he realized that they were tracking a familiar path to his room.

“You had a way of seeing your father all the time.” Y/N spoke, stopping by the pool in the centre of the room. She bent down over it, gesturing for Jimin to join her. “You can call out for the waters to show you what you wish for. The waters even have healing abilities. The Wizard’s token, left behind to torment me with everything I can’t see but still so that I wouldn’t be able to harm myself in any way.”

Jimin heard it all; unnerved by the way someone could hurt a little child. Yet, the allure of seeing his father was way more than the urge to console the Princess. He sat at the edge as Y/N drew away to give him space.

“Please, show me my father.” Jimin said, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears.

The water swirled clear, one turn, two turns before deepening into a whirlpool. Images swirled at the very bed of the pool, bubbling up till they hovered over the spin of the water. Jimin watched eyes tearing from horror as his father stumbled from one tree branch, to another, panting, struggling to stay on his feet.

“Oh no, father.” He nearly shouted, before remembering his father couldn’t hear him.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” his father chanted before finally dropping down into the snow, shuddering and curling up in the frigid ground.

“No!” He sprang to his feet, the illusion breaking with his movement, subsiding into the waters again, still and clear. “My father, he’s sick. He’s alone, wandering the woods, looking for me. He could be dying. Y/N, the wolves…what if the wolves find him?”

Jimin turned around to look at you, facing the window, silent as before. He wondered if you had heard him at all.

You had heard him.

Your ears pricked, flattening against the side of your head as you processed the frantic desperation to Jimin’s voice, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You thought back to your childhood, soft smiles and misty words now fogged with time…and then all you remembered was pain. The pain of changing and growing too many sizes too big, the eruptions of the fur, claws, having to get used to them. The pain of being unable to eat and the consequent process of starvation until Namjoon figured out how to feed you – like a dog.

The fear of being hunted mingled with the uninterrupted loneliness that no matter how much your staff tried to ebb, would never cease.

You remembered back to spending hours upon hours with the statues of your parents, wailing when it got too much, with even your own people afraid to approach you.

Then you thought back to the first day you’d met Jimin; brave and strong and so sacrificing, martyring himself for his father to stay here…with you; showing you kindness, helping you, teaching you, and even saving your life.

He’d sparked companionship for you.

How were you repaying it?

By holding him captive here? You had seen the devastation on his face that first night, the same pain that had been your constant. How could you claim to feel anything for him when you were hurting him?

You had lost everything as a child, and you had grown up used to it. You couldn’t put Jimin through the fresh agony of it. He had a life to get back to, loving people to help him.

He was human. He didn’t deserve to live with a paltry princess living in a curse.

And with that came the final blow…

How could he love someone who had torn him apart from his father? How could Jimin be fond of someone who had basically subjected his father to a pitiful, lonely death?

So you quelled the cry of your heart, steeling bands of iron around it until you could nurse its break alone. You made the decision simply because it was already set in place.

“You should go. Go back to him.” You said quietly.

There was a pause.

“What did you say?” You heard him, too close to you and you flinched away from his proximity.

“I grant you your freedom. You’re no longer my prisoner.” You turned to face him, grateful for the fur that absorbed any stray tears before they were obvious.

Jimin’s eyes were shiny as well, but you knew they were tears of joy. He gaped, his breath catching before he spoke, choked up – “Thank you.”

You watched, leaning against the window as he hurried to take off the heavy coat, instead shrugging on a simple, heavier cloak. He pulled on boots, easier to wade in the snow.

You, on the other hand, went to one of the dressers, unearthing a vial and moving to the pool, dipping and collecting the water in the shimmering glass.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/N. I think I’ll have to bring my father along sometime – convince him that you’re actually a big softie, none of the roaring monster that you were so kind enough to act as.”

His voice was teasing; light, even jovial as he eagerly approached you. You remained silent, handing him the vial.

“Here, take this. It’ll be useful to you. If you need to be healed…or it can help you remember me.”

Jimin’s smile faltered, looking from the proffered container back up to your eyes, now obviously dripping.

“I’m not going to be very long, Y/N. At least, not long enough for me to forget you.” He laughed, still pocketing the vial when you didn’t withdraw it. Sighing, you shook your enormous head.

“No…you can’t come back. You have to stay away. Stay with your father.” You refused to meet his eyes.

“Wait, what…what are you saying? What do you mean I have to stay away?”

“It means that you shouldn’t come back to the castle.” Your voice broke. “You have to stay in the town, maybe even go back to Paris. Live your life, Jimin; you have the rest of it. You deserve much better than living in a dilapidated castle with a monster.”

“No! No, I can’t…Y/N; you’re part of my life. I can’t…I can’t just, let you think that of yourself and your home. Y/N, you’re so important to me.”

He was reaching for you, his hand going to wrap around yours but you backed away quickly, unable to let him touch you lest you break down and beg for him to come back, to stay with you. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject him to that.

You loved him too much for that.

Instead, you fled, turning on your heel and exiting the room on all fours, ignoring his rough calls of your name. You knew he wouldn’t waste time chasing you, not with his father in that state, not with the threat of the wolves hanging about his head.

When you entered your room, your whole staff was already present, with expectant beams on their faces. You even spied Jungkook in the midst, the feather duster nearly reeking of disdain.

“Well, how did it go? Did he say it back?” Seokjin nearly shook from excitement.

You dropped your head, already dreading their reaction. “I…I let him go. His father is sick. He needed to go back.”

There was a silence so deep, so disappointed; you inwardly cringed even when Jungkook broke it with a caustic snicker.

“But…but we were so close. Why would you do that, Princess?” Namjoon asked.

You walked to the window, throwing them open to see the last vestiges of hooves vanishing in the snow. “Because, I love him,”

Y/N had been right. There had been no time for Jimin to process what had just transpired in his room, not when the cries of his father echoed through his head. He mounted Jjangu and sped off in the direction he’d gleaned his father would be. He had to be single-minded for his father for now, he decided. He couldn’t take care of the old man if his thoughts were littered with questions, with confusion, with hurt as to why it was so easy for Y/N to just tell him to leave. Did she not feel the same for him as he did her?

He knew he couldn’t disrespect her by showing up with his sick father at her doorstep after she’d told him to leave. Perhaps, after his father was healthy, he would map the course again, ask for answers, and plead to stay with her. Perhaps, he’d hurt her somehow and this was her way of protecting herself…?

Jimin sighed, laying his father back before warming water, laying thick cloths soaked in hot water along his forehead to fight the cold back. It took him back to when he’d patched Y/N up after the wolf attack and he had to shake off the thought when his father stirred, looking blearily up at him. “Jimin…you’re back!” His father sat up too quickly, holding his son at arm’s rest to check him before pulling him to his breast.

“Ah, son…I never thought I would see you again. But how…how did you escape the monster?”

Something tugged in him at his father’s tone, making him pull away from the man. “She’s not a monster, father. The legend of the Castle is true. She’s the cursed Princess…” Jimin sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes taking on the sheen of reminiscence as he recounted his journey with her till he was told to go back to his father.

He hoped perhaps, that his father would encourage him to go back, but he needed him to be stronger first, so once his tale was over, his father still gaping at how Jimin made the monster who had imprisoned him and his son sound so human, he fell asleep.

Jimin, however, didn’t. He paced back and forth from the fireplace to the bed, interrupted only by a quick, sharp knock on the door.

Scowling at the late hour, Jimin opened the door, not too pleased to see who it was on the threshold.

“Jimin,” Kai beamed, almost too familiarly as Hyebin tipped her hood back, studying Jimin as if she was planning to gut him. Her nails were digging into her brother’s arm and Jimin wondered how strong Kai had to be to not wince.

“Kai,” Jimin modulated his voice coolly. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Entirely too late, my good man,” Kai turned his head to his sister. “Didn’t I tell you it would be rude to show up right now?”

Hyebin didn’t answer.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, frustration making him further annoyed. He needed time and space to think, to process things. His father was sick, he had been a prisoner in an enchanted castle where he had found more solace and acceptance than he had in freedom, he had fallen for a cursed Princess who might or might not return his feelings but had forbade him to return to her. He needed to make plans for his future.

He couldn’t be discourteous though, not when they’d taken the trouble of coming by.

“Come in please; my father is ill and sleeping so if you could keep your voices down and be quick about this…” He let the door fall open further. Kai and Hyebin walked in as if they weren’t going to take no for an answer anyway, shedding off their cloaks and making themselves at home.

“Well Jimin, I must say it’s a relief to see you. Your father had been by the pub, you know, raving on about you being kidnapped and all by some monster and imprisoned. We dropped by a few times later to see the house empty.” Kai said. “We all thought he’d gone mad, or you’d run away and he was just lying to make us all look for you.”

Jimin didn’t look at the taller man, feeling the pinpricks of anger flare again at the accusation. “I…yes, I’ve been away. I was at the castle. My father wasn’t lying, neither is he mad,” He said coldly.

There was a silence in which unbeknownst to Jimin, Kai and Hyebin exchanged looks.

“Wait, you’re talking about the palace? The royal palace on the hill…that’s where you were and the monster is real?” Hyebin asked, bug eyed.

“Yes, the monster is your Princess and she’s not vicious or anything, Hyebin, unlike how you described her when you told me the story. She doesn’t devour children and she doesn’t make their bones into furniture.” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms before sighing as he glanced into the fireplace, eyes and voice softening. “She’s a little short-tempered, yes but she’s kind hearted and caring and intelligent and curious. She’s my friend.”

Kai watched Jimin calculatingly, while Hyebin clenched her jaw.

“It sounds like you like her.” She said finally.

“I do. Also, it’s really late. I think I should go to bed as well.” He said. His voice left no room for argument.

Kai gave him a tight smile, his too white teeth glinting almost maliciously in the firelight. “You think…it wise to harbor such feelings for a monster, Jimin? Need I remind you this…thing is cursed and is a bad omen in our town?”

“No Kai, she isn’t. Now please, I am tired.”

For a second, he thought that Hyebin would refuse flatly but even as he steeled himself to assert himself yet again, she was standing and with Kai in tow, moved out without another word.

Jimin puffed a breath of relief, moving to douse the fireplace. The swab plunged the living space in darkness and he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back, already looking forward to his bed when he heard the hushed conversation not too far from the house.

The one thing about living so far from the town and right in the middle of a disused farm was that there was nothing to absorb sounds. Each and every noise reverberated and echoed loudly in his house, enough for him to never be startled.

He went to the window, keeping back enough to see Kai, now holding his torch above him and Hyebin, talking. While Hyebin didn’t bother to lower her voice, Kai was trying to shush her, low and hissing but even his voice carried back to Jimin’s focused ears.

“…you didn’t see his eyes, Kai. He doesn’t just like this bitch. He loves her. He won’t even hear any truths about her!” Hyebin screeched.

“You sure know how to pick them, sister. A man who’s into bestiality,” Kai snidely replied, stopping when Hyebin grabbed his collars.

“This isn’t funny. You have to talk sense into him…or…I don’t…I don’t know, we have to kill this Princess of his.” Hyebin said.

“Keep your damn voice down, will you? Is that all you can think of in your pea brain? Jimin, Jimin, Jimin; all the time…it’s annoying.” Kai snatched away his coat from Hyebin. “Think of it like this, little sister. This girl is a Princess. She is our Princess, a royal. We cannot truly establish a government because a monarch is alive.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

“Darling sister, do use sense. Jimin is here, which means this Princess doesn’t have a man around right now.”

“So…?”

Jimin heard Kai snap his jaw. “So, sister, I go and I marry her. Simple, and effective; I become King, all powerful and she is out of your way. I will command Jimin to marry you and since you will be royal; he cannot hope to refuse.”

“You…you cannot be serious, Kai. I mean, are you really going to do that? She’s an animal.” Hyebin’s shock was palpable even to Jimin.

“Well, of course I don’t intend to honor the marriage wholly. I’m a hunter, aren’t I? Think of it like my greatest hunt, one that makes us the most powerful pair here. Plus, who’s to know…? Maybe the Princess meets a little accident a few days after our wedding. At least the kingdom will have a king they know and trust; they will only see it more as a sacrifice on my part.”

“You’re…despicable, brother.” Hyebin’s lips trembled before stretching into a cruel smile that looked odd on her beautiful face. “But a genius,”

“I know that. Now hurry up, we need to go to the pub and collect a mob. I cannot go alone in case the Princess tries to get aggressive. I’m going to need witnesses just in case we need to come back and convince Jimin his lovely Princess was actually a monster after all.”

Jimin was moving even before the fleck of light completely vanished from sight.

All thoughts and feelings of exhaustion melted from his body, arms and legs regaining energy as he burst into his father’s room. The old man started awake from the sound, jolting and clutching the sheets as he looked at the manic light in Jimin’s eyes.

“Son, what – what’s the matter?”

“I have to go father. I have to go back to the castle. Y/N is in danger.” Jimin rushed his words, tossing things from dressers till he found a bag, throwing some matches and a torch into it. He patted his pockets for the vial of pool water Y/N had given him, about to turn for the door when his father clasped his shoulders.

“No! I just got you back; I cannot let you go back there!”

“Father, you don’t understand. Kai…he’s taking a mob to her! They’re going to kill her, all because I opened my mouth.”

Jimin’s father wavered, his grip loosening only slightly.

“Come with me, then. See for yourself.” Jimin moved past the old man, not waiting for him to follow. However, when he reached Jjangu, who raised his head quizzically, his father, was right there, climbing on behind his son.

Praying that he wouldn’t be too late, he leaned over to Jjangu’s ear.

“Come on boy, we’re going home to our Princess.”

Jjangu whinnied, rising up on his front legs and then they were racing from the stable, in the direction of the palace.

Jjangu thankfully took the way that they were most familiar with, through the woods. Even as they surpassed the town, he could see the lit fires, domestic weapons of all sorts raised as cries and shouts filled his ears. They were breaking down the blockade; he realized when he saw the closed bookshop, going only the way they knew.

His fault…his fault…

Jimin shook his head, nudging Jjangu to go faster. He had to reach Y/N before Kai did, or he would never forgive himself.

The fire leapt high and powerful, licks of warmth flaring out against where you sat with your back to the muttering and mourning gossips of your royal staff.

You knew that the moment you’d spilled out the truth about how you’d sent Jimin away, even forbidding him to ever set foot back in the castle, you’d basically condemned your entire household and yourself to a grim fate, but could you condemn him to one as well? No, you couldn’t. Besides, you were used to this now, used to living like an animal. Jimin shouldn’t have to live in company of one for the rest of his life.

Behind you, Jungkook led most of the ranting. “I’m telling you; this was the plan all along. Get the Mistress all soft and mushy so he could get out of here first chance he could get.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi sighed. “His father was sick.”

“So, all our families are probably dead now. We won’t ever get to see them now, or even to see their gravestones.”

You knew he was right. Maybe it was ok to live with yourself like this, but sacrificing your own people to this curse made guilt creep up your throat tenfold.

“Perhaps, we shouldn’t have gotten as attached to him as we did, even before knowing what his obligations were.” Seokjin said.

You were about to turn to snap at them all to get back to their chores when Namjoon suddenly squeaked, the clogs of his clockwork chiming anxiously.

“Wait, wait, there’s someone coming…OH lords above! Princess, Princess, it’s the townsfolk, invading the castle gates. It’s a mob!”

“Wait, what…?” You nearly fell off the chair, confused when the doors to the sitting room were flung open again, a squad of soldier armor leading a panting Jimin in.

“Y/N…mob, people are coming for you…run!” He managed to puff out before leaning his weight on his knees, drawing heavy breaths.

You blinked quickly. Didn’t you tell him not to come back? But he was here now, come to warn you about the mob…worrying for your safety.

“Jimin…” You breathed, “You came back.”

You drew closer to the wheezing man, a paw running along his smooth cheek.

“Of course, I did. I had to warn you.” Jimin looked up at you, time slowing as your gazes remained suspended. He placed his own hand on yours, squeezing it even as Jungkook broke it in his rasp.

“Well now, that’s sweet. So, are we to assume you led the mob here before promptly losing courage?”

You and Jimin both turned to look at the feather duster now propped up on a dresser, eyeing Jimin with as much disdain as you had seen him do you. Jimin gaped, flabbergasted while you were ready to rip out all his feathers.

“Jungkook, he came to warn us. Don’t be an idiot.” Namjoon said roughly.

“I can’t believe you’d lap that up, sir. He left here, went back home to tend to his ill father, so he said, and now he’s back…with encroachers on his heel. Why would you believe him? Because of the pool; the waters are also subject to imagination, Namjoon, or have you forgotten?”

“Enough, we cannot fight amongst ourselves, we have to protect the castle and our Princess.” Yoongi said. He turned to the soldiers, ordering for them to gather the rest of the household up and prepare for defenses.

“Ask him, Princess. Ask your dearest if he told them or not.”

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, turning, however, to Jimin. It was better to put this to rest. “Tell him, then, tell him you didn’t.”

Jimin was still looking at Jungkook, a peculiar expression of conflict gathering his eyebrows together.

“Jimin…” You prompted.

“I…” He looked at you then, and just the look in his eyes – wide, pleading, had your hand slipping from him.

“See,” Jungkook said, as Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung gaped at their friend. “I told you, he told them.”

“Jimin, tell me you didn’t.” You whispered.

“I – I did, but I had no idea -,”

“That they were going to take advantage of the fact that a whole castle was left unattended and come to loot it? Or that they were going to come to kill and behead the Princess so they could mount her head upon their walls?”

“Why…how could you?”

Jimin looked at you again, away from the brewing anger and distrust of the staff. “Y/N, try and understand. I only told the truth, I told them you were harmless.”

“You’re lying.” Jungkook hissed.

You watched his hand try to reach for you, pull at you, but you drew away, cringing away from his touch. He stuttered in his steps, looking at you, beseeching.

“Princess,” Namjoon called softly, “what are your orders?”

You looked away from Jimin, reminding yourself you had duties to perform. “Keep safe the castle. My parents…they shouldn’t have to see their home seized in front of their eyes.” Your anger flared as you glared at Jimin finally. “Remind them that there still is a monster in the castle.”

Without another word, you dropped down on all fours and leaped clean over Jimin’s head, bounding for the roof from where you could see everything and lead stray invaders away from your people and home.

Your orders were followed to a tee. Thousands of household goods launched an attack on the people who were mostly comprised of men, having no idea how to operate the basic home wares.

Drawers smacked into jaws, hot water and oil were poured on head, knives and burning torches chased men around until they thought it better to just leave the castle alone and crawl away, defeated.

You stood on top of the parapets, watching your subjects nurse and curse over their bruised and burned extremities, retreating from your home. Perhaps, there would be no reason for the monster to show up after all. No legends would pass around; no one would spread talk to lure hunters and thieves to your home.

You didn’t go down though, instead, curling into yourself on the edge of the roof.

As happy as you were about the prospect of people leaving you alone, you had to contend with the fact that it was Jimin, the man you trusted, the man you loved who had ruthlessly allowed people to come hunt for you. You had mattered nothing to him. It would’ve been better to have someone draw a knife through your heart now, it might’ve hurt less than the betrayal.

“Oh Princess,”

Your ears pricked.

“There you are. You know, when I didn’t see a huge, hunkering monster down below I was worried Jimin might have lied.”

The voice was unfamiliar, nasty and it grated on your nerves so you stayed still, hoping the person would mistake you for a statue and pass by.

“Apparently, the poor boy hadn’t lied. He was so in misery you see, had to come back, leaving his little lady behind. Someone had to convince him that a princess needs a real man around for a husband.”

You frowned, feeling it draw closer.

“So I have a proposition. You marry me and we live happily enough. I’ll even throw in a wedding kiss.”

The footsteps behind you stopped, and you hoped that your silence had fooled him enough until they started again. “Now, Princess, it’s rude to not acknowledge a man talking to you. Turn around; let’s see what got Jimin so dewy eyed. I have to see if you’re worth all the talk.”

You remained still.

“Turn around now.”

You ignored him.

A sharp, plunging pain ripped through your back, making you gasp and seize up. Something pinched at the centre of your back, protruding out and you knew it was an arrow, turning to see the tall man, draw another from his quiver, placing it on his bow.

“Well now, looks like we’ve found our communication link. Are you going to be nice, now?”

You flailed, clawing behind to draw out the agonizing spike from your body.

“No use. I have perfect aim. Now, stop dancing and listen unless you want another to keep it company in your chest.”

He drew back the bow string.

“KAI, STOP!”

You stopped as well, seeing the man – Kai – turn around to look at where Jimin stood on the top most balconies, leaning almost all the way down. You took advantage of the momentary distraction of the hunter, throwing your full weight at him.

Your muscles and joints screamed at your movements, huge as they were, weighing you further down as the man turned quickly to you, trying to aim the arrow towards your body. You gripped his hand, twisting it out of the way.

“This is a nice surprise! Seems like you really are a monster, and here you were hoping for a human companion!” The Hunter laughed maniacally, shaking hair out of his eyes.

You growled, pulling the hunter close enough to snatch his bow, snapping it with a simply pinch of your fingers. “Get out of my house.” You gripped his throat, squeezing just enough for him to be able to tell. “Never come back…or I will kill you.” You flung the man away from him as the disgusting being that he was, backing away.

Adrenaline fading, the fatigue of blood loss raised its ugly head again, faltering your steps and blurring your vision.

“Y/N, here, come here, you’re hurt.”

You turned once again to where Jimin stood, his hand extended for you and stumbled towards him, shaky feet nearly throwing you over the edge more than once. You reached near him, raising your hand to grasp his and began to climb.

“You’re still here.” You choked.

“Of course, I had to clear things up.” Jimin smiled, eyeing you carefully.

You made to return the smile when another scream of pain tore through you, making Jimin jump before he saw the knife embedded deep in your side.

“NO!” He roared, feeling you slip from his fingers when he saw Kai’s added weight clinging to your cloak.

Your back curved backwards; Kai gripping the back of your cloak and hair in a tight fist. His lips split in a wide, sinister smile. “Go on Jimin, pull us up. You save her, you save me.”

Jimin snarled a curse at Kai, eyes darting from your drooping eyes to Kai’s bright ones. He couldn’t save Kai, he knew that. Left alive, he’d keep coming back again and again. You would never truly be safe with Kai alive.

“It’s okay…”

Jimin’s eyes snapped to Y/N, narrowing at the small smile tugging at your lips in puzzlement.

“It’s okay; you have to let me go…”

“What, no, I’m not going to -,”

“It’s better this way.”

“Y/N, no, Kai let her go!”

“I love you, Jimin. I’m…I suppose this is goodbye.”

Jimin opened his mouth to shout for you to hold on when all sound stopped short. You opened your paw, his own hand too weak to hold up all the weight of your body and Kai together. He watched, too slow to move, too stunned to understand as your eyes closed, still smiling while Kai’s eyes widened, almost comically, smile fading and mouth opening in a silent scream as you both fell.

There was no time for Jimin to even scream for you.

Everything was numb. Everything was silent.

Well, in all actuality, a battle had waged around him, promptly won by the small but mighty objects of Y/N’s household. Cheers of victory and joy could be heard from the lower rungs of the Castle. It was just that Jimin’s eyes could only see Y/N’s last smile, hear her last confession and feel her hand slipping from his.

All he knew was that Y/N was down here somewhere – ironically, falling right into her parent’s grotto – and he had to reach her. Nothing else mattered.

The soft grass of the grotto crushed and crumbled under Jimin’s boots, as he walked and broke into aching jogs as he spied the huge mass of fur on its side, reminiscent of when he’d seen Y/N topple over after saving him from the wolves. The memory stung his chest now.

“Y/N,” he gasped seeing Kai’s body almost completely trapped under hers, his fist still closed around her clothes.

He bent over, ripping his hand away and rolling his dead body away till it lay feet away, open eyes dead and unseeing, his laughter finally fading into nothingness.

Falling to his knees, he heaved Y/N’s head onto his arms, propping it against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as well; smile gone and he could spot a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth into the fur. His hand trailed down to the knife in her side, slowly, gently easing it out and tossing far away from her as both arms came to wrap around her, rocking.

“Y/N, hey, it’s okay, come on wake up. He’s gone. Kai’s dead and every one fled. You’re safe now.” He hushed.

She lay still, too still, not even shifting a little in answer to his voice.

“Y/N,” Jimin vowed now to give up so soon. She had to be alive, she was probably just unconscious. He tapped her cheeks, ran his fingers through the mass of her hair and fur.

“Y/N, please, I’m so sorry.” He buried his head against her neck, taking in a whiff of the musk that he was so used to now. There was a change now; it smelt too metallic, too…sodden. “Please, wake up.”

She couldn’t be dead…she couldn’t leave him like this; not after saying she loved him and pulling off such a ridiculous stunt.

His body shook, feeling the chill settle in. Somehow, Y/N’s body that radiated so much warmth normally wasn’t enough to keep the cold away now. Jimin shuddered, drawing her closer before closing his eyes finally. A sob choked its way out his lips, followed by a sound that was too close to Y/N’s own agonized ones.

“Please, come back, Y/N, please, I love you too. So much, so much, please,” he rocked faster, more to keep himself moving than to shake her awake. He couldn’t stop moving, it would only mean for him to accept that Y/N wasn’t moving as well and that she was…she was.

His tears soaked through her fur.

“Now, this is quite the unfortunate situation.”

Jimin hiccupped, looking up to where someone new had joined them in the grotto. For a wild second he thought that it was Kai but no. This man was much taller, skinnier, even unhealthy looking.

A snap echoed from behind him and he jumped, looking about to see a very familiar pack of wolves surrounding him, grinning and tongues lolling. He pulled Y/N closer but the wolves didn’t seem to intent on attacking, instead collecting behind the new arrival.

Jimin squinted, wiping off the blurring tears to see the man was known to him.

“You,” He said at the bookseller who peered down at the cursed Princess with something akin to bitterness.

“Me,” The old man hummed, turning to face the wolves and Jimin was astounded to see that a wave of this man’s hand was enough to line them neatly up.

“How…I thought you never left the bookshop. Did you come with Kai?”

“Kai?” The bookseller laughed, caustic casting a cursory glance at the dead man feet away. “That pathetic excuse for a human and you think he’d have any sort of influence over me?”

Jimin watched as the man drew himself to full height before light erupted out from somewhere in his chest, blinding Jimin and making him feel colder than he did before. Once he felt the light fade from his screwed up eyelids, he peeked through, gaping in disbelief.

Long black robes swirled around the now, considerably younger man, almost as if it was sewn directly from the shadows around him. Long sleeves fell back to reveal tattoos in a language Jimin had never seen before, glowing even till the skin of his bald head and face.

“Not quite who you expected, I see.” The man said.

Jimin was still trying to put together the old bookseller who had been so friendly to him transformed into this being when with a clatter and loud clangs they were surrounded with more things – this time on Y/N’s side.

Namjoon’s clock chimed angrily, Seokjin’s fiery wick gleaming in the dark as they caught the man standing over Jimin and Y/N. “The Wizard,” They gasped, followed quickly by Yoongi and the others who skid to a halt.

“Be gone, monster! You have killed our Mistress!” Yoongi clattered.

“You’re the one who cursed Y/N.” Jimin said, realization dawning over him like a pot of cold water. However, there was no fear in his voice. After all what was the use? Y/N was dead, neither she nor he could be hurt any further.

“Now, now, calm please. Is that any way to greet the man about to grant you salvation?” The Wizard raised his palms.

“You cursed us too swine!” Namjoon yelled.

“I did. And I fully intended to come back on her birthday to remind her that she owed herself to me if she wanted to have her life and loved ones back. It seems,” He looked down at Jimin cradling her body and again there was strange bitterness to his gaze, “I have been rendered useless. She has found love…I didn’t think it would’ve been possible.”

He looked up.

“So now, here, my word means something in the world.” Light shone again, only this time it was blue.

Jimin watched the light move out from the Wizard, creeping slowly to where Y/N lay against him. The light cocooned her, moving forward till it had surrounded everyone present in the grotto and on and on till all he could see was blue.

Jimin’s proximity helped in seeing Y/N, and he clasped her protectively, worried the light was going to further cause her harm. Only, it didn’t. Instead, her weight began to ease up off of Jimin. Fur receded and fell off from her body to reveal smooth skin, wet and smeared with visible blood, fangs shrunk back, and ears flattened and became smaller.

The huge mass of a creature began to slowly shrivel, until all that remained in his arms could no longer pass off as an animal. No, this was laughably, astonishingly, human.

Jimin raised a hand inquisitively, running it through the strands of hair that were now free from the matting of fur, his hand coming back red.

“She’s…”

“Back to normal…or rather what she would’ve grown up to be; that’s about as normal as I can make her.” The Wizard snorted at his own joke.

“Is…your highness,” Jimin turned to see that there were people in the grotto, no longer just objects.

A tall tanned man stood foremost, dimples poking out as a wondrous smile lit up his face, hands running over his suit. “I…I’m a man again!”

“Or how much you were before,” Another spoke, taller than the first, golden hair falling into his eyes.

“Gentlemen, calm down!” A shorter man barked.

These were strangers to Jimin, or maybe not. He looked back up at the Wizard, ignoring the joyous reunions behind him. “She’s…still dead.”

“Yes, but then, the way to bring her back to life is with you, isn’t it?”

Jimin was about to ask what he meant when he remembered the vial. The vial full of the pool water, that Y/N had said had healing abilities.

He delved deep, bringing out the mercifully intact vial before upending it completely into Y/N’s open mouth.

He waited, with bated breath as moments passed. And then – skin knitted back together, the grey pallor of her face smoothed till a healthy glow seeped in her cheeks.

With a huge shaky breath, Y/N opened her eyes again, fumbling with her body as if it scratched at her.

“Y/N, hey, Y/N,” Jimin grabbed her hands, much smaller and claw less, fitting into his easily.

Big, wide, fearful eyes met Jimin’s. “J-Jimin?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Jimin placed his head against hers, taking in a deep inhale that wasn’t of musk but of bloodied skin, of sorrow, or uncertainty. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, Jimin turned his head to place his lips swiftly on yours.

There was no reciprocation at first, worrying Jimin that perhaps, he’d pushed you too far too fast. However, he felt your small hand move past his neck into his hair, entwining with the strands to hold him against you.

He moved away from your face, reminding himself that you still needed time and space to learn physical love when your eyes, now bright with unshed tears landed on something behind him.

It took him a bit to register the utter silence, hushed conversation behind him and he turned to see that the huge statues that used to be the only decorations in the grotto were no longer there, instead right behind him stood a couple, too familiar.

“Mama! Daddy!”

Y/N fled Jimin’s arms, instead throwing herself into her parent’s arms. Jimin fell back from the impact; quickly picking himself up to see the pair wrap their tight arms around their daughter, tears streaking through dirty, muddied faces.

The man was tall, his wife regal as they still retained the glow of youth, having spent their lives inanimate. Their daughter may have grown in front of their eyes but there was near to no difference in ages, Jimin noticed. He turned his head, but the Wizard and his pack of wolves were long gone.

Y/N shirt and pants were also now tattered, too huge on her now smaller body. Jimin tugged off his coat, wrapping it delicately around her shoulders when a hand stopped him from moving away. He looked at the queen, small crown still perched into her mussed hair who smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, tugging him closer till he was hugging Y/N from the back as well, and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful at the gesture.

The moments, hell, the days after the…incident, or rather your birthday had been all muddles and stumbling through time. As a cursed monster, time had seemed to stretch, with you craving love and companionship simply because you’d been told that they would break your curse. The very notion of these emotions had become a means to an end.

You had so much to learn, you realized when you stepped back into a castle that had no broken ceilings, no gaping holes, no smears of dirt and growing moss. The stones gleamed, jewels sparkled, sculptures loomed, just as they had in your distant memories.

Everyone stared, even the members of your household who had lived with you forever. You supposed you weren’t the only ones in need of reacclimatizing.

Chamber maids and maids in waiting dragged you and your mother away almost immediately. You were washed, scrubbed, hair oiled and washed and scented, similar to the ball but only this time the gown they put you in felt too big, too airy for you. Your skin, used to being protected by masses of fur and hard muscles shuddered at the gauzes and weightlessness of your new things.

Mirrors and portraits, previously smashed or torn by your claws had been reinstated and you had spent hours just staring at the unfamiliar face in the reflection. You weren’t a child anymore; you weren’t the beast you were used to seeing in cracks of glass and shards of mirrors. You had grown into a young maiden and you had no idea who you were.

The resurgence of a bustling royal palace, with many of the staff setting out to locate their families had created a buzz. Kai, the hunter had been dragged away and Hyebin, his sister as Jimin told you had been tried for conspiracy for murder.

Of course, things hadn’t become hunky dory fast. Things still needed to be sorted out, a monarchy had to be established because the so called government that had put Kai in charge in the first place was found now corrupt, seeing how easy it had been to rile up the public on the word of one man with no proof at all.

You left your father to handle these matters. Your mother had something much more stressful for you to think about.

Whether or not you wanted to marry Park Jimin…

You knew he was in the palace somewhere, along with his father. He’d come seen you but there hadn’t been much conversation. You had been too unsure of your own self, of your new or rather old body and you wondered if Jimin liked you as a human as much as he had when you were a creature.

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin had said, once on a slow walk around the garden. Your steps were much slower now, smaller feet tended to do that but none of you were in a hurry. It seemed Jimin was as eager to know the new you as you were. “I loved you when you were covered in fur and I love you now, even though I must say I was hoping to introduce a few of my friends to my beastly fiancée.” You had smacked his arm, unsettled at the joke even though he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Don’t worry so much about this. The curse is past. No one and I mean it, will ever hurt you now. They’ll have to go through me.”

The burning sincerity in his eyes and voice left no room for you to argue or doubt.

And so, you shyly visited your parents that very evening, hand looped in your lover’s, asking for their blessing to marry him.

Your engagement to Jimin lasted longer than any a royal was supposed to have, stretching out for months as you relearned human life. You were taught to walk properly on two legs, carrying things with a tiara affixed to your hair. For days you would bat at your hair when the pins keeping it in place pinched or pulled at you.

You learned how to dress yourself, how to put on various forms of jewelry, how to take baths and resumed your studies and royal duties.

Suffice it to say, you were now missing your animalistic life at times, you were so exhausted.

However, Jimin was a constant, learning with you, talking you through the harder aspects, supportive, encouraging, and absolutely perfect. It was also getting hard to keep your hands to yourself when it came to your private moments.

Physical love was one aspect that you absolutely dreaded touching upon. You wondered if you would be good enough, if Jimin would find pleasure in you or if you would find pleasure in him. He did place chaste kisses against your skin and lips when he thought it was okay to do so and you had only found him losing control once. It had been late at night when he visited you and had read to you till you were drowsy. With only a mind to gently kiss you goodnight, he had leant in only to be trapped by your hands, trying to get as close as you could to him.

He’d gripped at you, trying to pry out of your touch but had melted fast, molding and pressing you to your mattress. You had felt him growing aroused against your pelvic bone, rutting against you, gasping when he pulled away, blinking and shaking hair out of his eyes.

“Now now, love, we have time.” He’d pecked your cheek, disentangling himself from you before almost limping out.

Soon enough, it was time for the main event of your life.

Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook returned in days time, bringing what was left or added to their families and they stayed on till after your wedding took place.

Jungkook had mellowed in the face of his parents being alive, fifteen years older of course but delighted to have him back. He’d wished you well, but not apologized for his earlier behavior – you didn’t expect him to either.

Your parents had gone above and beyond for the wedding, throwing the lavish event for the entire town and further to come attend. Your gown was created for weeks, Hoseok personally supervising the process so that when you walked down the altar finally, upon your teary eyed father’s arm; you erased all thoughts that you had been a monster for most of your life prior.

You left the palace for your honeymoon, following Jimin’s advice to leave the royal duties to your still young and hearty parents while you took some time with your husband, so you could acquaint yourself both to him and to the world that he wanted to show you.

You knew where to start the journey of course, with your groom’s lips twitching at the very first words that tumbled out during the ceremonial dance.

“Please,” you’d whispered, laying your head close to his heart.

“Anything for you, darling,” Jimin had whispered back, smile obvious in his voice. “Paris it is.”

Jimin might not ever get used to the feeling of you fitting into his arms, you thought to yourself, glancing at your now husband, ever so often.

He’d lifted you up into his arms the moment you’d stepped off the carriage, beaming about something called the threshold ceremony, carrying you through the doors of the French villa carefully.

“Satisfied?” You asked when he stood still, eyeing the windows in contemplation.

“I’m wondering if I’m missing something but I can’t think of anything as of yet. So yes, here you go.” He placed you down, letting you walk through the house while he watched over the servants who carried through your luggage.

A late meal later, you stood at the mirror in the bedroom, painstakingly pulling out the multiple pins from the up-do your hair had been twisted in, your husband peeking in with a mischievous grin.

“Having fun?”

“No,” You grumbled, your arms dropping from the strain. Jimin walked up behind you, beginning to quickly pull out the multitudes of metal from your hair that would make a magnet drool. “Why are there so many?”

“Look on the bright side,” Jimin muttered, delving deeper into your scalp, “For the rest of our honeymoon, you could be completely free from all of this, until of course we have to go back.”

You glanced up at him quickly, seeing the darkening expression brooding on your husband’s face as he dropped the final pins on to the dresser.

“I was thinking.”

“Yes,” you squeaked out embarrassingly.

“Well, we’re all alone now, so we don’t have to be worried about anyone walking in on us.”

You turned around completely, confused. “That’s what you were worried about?”

“Of course,” his smile flickered. “What else would I be worried about?”

Your eyes fell, feeling all sorts of stupid now. “I just thought…maybe you didn’t…you know, feel that way about me now.”

A finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face back up. “Love, I married you.”

“Yes but,”

“Mm, but nothing, come on; let me show you what I feel for you.”

Jimin’s arms, much stronger than you had given him credit for swooped under your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist swiftly. As a monster, you had never given thought to how powerful Jimin really was, but now when you were human, much more fragile than you were used to, he was blatantly flaunting his strength.

You couldn’t fault him for that.

Your husband dropped you onto the centre of the massive bed, arms balancing his weight over you. “Are you okay about this? I don’t want to force you into anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

“No,” you reached for him, winding arms around his neck. “I’m fine, I want to feel you. I want to learn this with you.”

Your eyes closed automatically when he kissed you, sweetly but strongly, tongue laving over your lips, slipping between with less to no battle from you. Your mouth parted easily for him, letting him plunder moans from you.

“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, pulling away before his eyes were widening. “Oh, I’ve never cursed like that before.”

His cheeks were so red, you couldn’t help but laugh. “No worries, I’ve never made someone curse like that before either.”

Jimin’s fingers trailed to the ties of your night shift. “Perhaps, we’re a bad influence upon one another.”

“Perhaps,” your breath caught in agreement, Jimin’s fingers pulling at a peaking nipple while his head lowered to suckle on the other. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, my darling wife,” his lips were curved wickedly when he resurfaced; sitting up to remove the cotton night shirt he wore and tugging off the gown from your body right after.

You lay naked under him, open for his perusal and taking. Your hand shifted up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover some of your modesty until Jimin caught up, taking your hands to place them right there.

“There,” His mouth opened, tongue rubbing over his swollen bottom lip. “Do you feel that? That’s what I feel for you. You don’t need to hide from me love, never ever. I have loved you before, I love you now and I will continue to love you more for all our days to come. Do you understand?”

You meekly nodded.

Jimin’s eyes flashed down your body, knees parting yours before his hand touched your bare core, running over the nub in circles. “Am I understood, love?”

“Yes-yes,” you gasped, neck falling back for him place kisses even as a finger slipped through inside of you, thick but gentle, stretching you just so.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Jimin removed his hand, placing the digit in his mouth, eyes still firm between your legs. Normally the lecherous look on any man would have you burst with rage but Jimin had you nearly quivering in anticipation, especially when he finally pushed down his trousers.

You had never seen a cock before, never having any contact with a human male, but you had to say Jimin’s was an impressive specimen. Thick in girth and flushed a sensuous red, the head throbbed in need before he was guiding himself to your body.

“Ready, love, I need you to breathe with me.”

Jimin dropped low on you, lips tugging and pushing at yours, his spare hand clasping your breast to distract you as he pushed in. your knee bent, curving over his hip as you gasped, eyes watering at the sharp pinching sensation deep within you. Your husband halted, waiting for the expression of discomfort and pain to pass from your face, fingers brushing away any stray moisture from the corner of your eyes.

“I…I’m okay, please move.” You told him, Jimin studying you carefully before he drew back, thrusting in experimentally. The first drags of his hips, followed by the slow plunges still made you bite down your lips, screw up your eyelids before you found your rhythms.

Jimin ended up with his hand at your nub, rubbing it in gentle circles, lighting sparks in your nerves with the motion of his lovemaking, your nails digging into your lover’s back and shoulder, trying to get as close as possible.

The first jolt of climax nearly made you cry out, burying your face in his neck to muffle the sounds when he followed, heavy grunts falling unabashed from his lips, hands twining with the strands of your hair to seal your lips in a clumsy kiss as he spilled deep into you.

Rolling over, with your head safely clasped in the nook of his arm, Jimin sighed contentedly, warm hand against your back.

“Jimin,”

“Yes, love.”

“So…what happens now?”

Your husband turned his head to give you a sleepy grin.

“Now we’ll live happily ever after.”

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 14: Commend

“Uh…hey there, Haurchefant. You’re not mad, right?”

The Lord Commander told her how it took six knights to wrestle him back to his post, keep him from rushing to her side in the face of Shiva. He certainly looked as though he fought off a small militia, what with the ragged hair and the small bruises on his cheeks.

His arms were folded. A stern look fell over his face. This was not a happy man.

“What were you thinking, Dia?!” he exclaimed. This took her aback. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been quite polite, always using a gentle tone of voice with her. To hear him scold her so was…different, to say the least.

“Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which might allow you to enter Iceheart’s lair- knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva, anyway…? And then- And then- engaging the abomination in mortal combat?!”

“…Chief, that’s a morning warm-up for me.”

“By the Fury, Dia!” He was in no mood for her cavalier attitude towards her heroic actions. “‘Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages!” He slammed a fist on his desk and continued, “Would that I could have been there to fight by your side!”

“Haurchefant, you would have been tempered!”

“Yet, here I was, forced to wait- condemned to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable eternity! I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…”

The tension on his shoulders started to release, the fire in his words began to dim, and whatever appearance of civility he could muster returned. He let out a long sigh as if to release the anger through his breath, and said while attempting to sound calm, “…but you are here now, and that is what truly matters…”

“Chief…do you need a hug?”

He shot a devastating glare at her, making Alphinaud leave the room before the tempers would flare. “I’m serious!” she assured, “I wish I could have told you that I was going, but the moment sort of just…came together perfectly. Time was of the essence.” He shook his head. “I know. But truly, no reinforcements, Dia?! None whatsoever?!”

“Unless you have another fighter who can resist tempering, it’s hard to ask that of someone.”

“Ser Aymeric couldn’t even think of a contingency plan, should you have fallen?!”

Dia felt the crease of the missive from him in her pocket. She took it from the Temple Knight, who attempted to read it aloud for her, after pointing out to him, “I can read, you know”, and read it through silently before entering the amphitheatre.

“That’s the Scions’ job.”

“Well, what is their contingency plan should you have been mortally wounded? Is there a batallion of blessed champions that secretly lies in wait in the Rising Stones?” he questioned sarcastically.

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then how do they ensure your safety? Surely, they understand that if you go, so too does the future of the realm.”

She hesitated, feeling incredibly obstinate in the face of his challenges, but was ultimately forced to concede to that one with an “I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing that they do to make sure that the Savior of Eorzea can continue to save Eorzea?”

“There’s nothing they can do, I just go in and do what needs to be done.”

“But why?” he asked incredulously, “What good does it do for anyone to leave you as the only one capable of defeating these monstrosities?”

“I don’t know, Haurchefant! Okay?! I don’t know! But I am the only one, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that!” She reached the end of her rope with an argument that should have ended before it even began when she opened her mouth. It was his turn to express shock, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. His usually calm and collected dear friend, quick with a joke and happy to help, has put in place an impenetrable defense. She revealed a crack, however, when she took a breath and admitted, “A break would be nice.”

The two of them took a deep breath together to release the tension at the same time.

“What do you acquire from doing this, my friend?” he asked calmly, carefully tiptoeing about the topic to ensure they don’t fall back into hostility. She kept her cool and answered with a soft smile, “Adventure.” She let out a dharp breath from her nose. “I wish I knew why, but…there was always something about exploration that drew me. I love journeying into the unknown, I love seeking new paths…but sometimes, it’s nice to rest and know my surroundings.”

Haurchefant hummed in a tone that indicated both satisfaction and curiosity. “‘Tis interesting to hear your prerogative, Dia. Many take adventurers to be self-serving, glory-seeking ignoramuses.”

“That’s because a solid majority of them are just that.” She shook her head at the notion. “Glory feels rather hollow when you’ve seen just where it lands you. No, I’m an adventurer because there’s much to see and do…but I think I’ve seen enough for a while.”

He flashed his winning smile and assured, “None deserve respite more than you, my friend. Take heart, and enjoy what you have accomplished for now. I apologize if my venting of my anxieties have dampened your victory.”

She returned the smile and replied, “No, it didn’t. Call me weird, but…there’s something refreshing about someone close reminding me that what I do could kill me. Everyone always seems so sure that I’ll emerge victorious.”

‘Was there every any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed’, Alphinaud’s words rang in her head.

“There is never a guarantee in battle. I feel young Alphinaud should learn such a concept if he is to lead men.” Haurchefant shook his head and sat back in his chair. “You are indeed blessed as Hydaelyn’s champion, but you remain mortal, with limits. You have escaped the impossible on more than one occasion, but nothing that you’ve survived was incapable of killing you. I would much rather know that if you were in danger, that someone, preferably myself, would be there to do everything they could to protect you.”

She stared to the floor. “You very much are a knight, Chief. You couldn’t have protected me from Shiva.”

“Perhaps not, but it would be remiss of me not to try.” Haurchefant snapped back into reality when he reminded himself of orders he received. “Ah, Ser Aymeric wished to have words with you and Master Alphinaud in private. He awaits us in the Intercessory.”

“Ughhhh, do I have to?”

Haurchefant replied to her groans with laughter in his voice, “Is there something wrong with the notion?”

“I already had to accompany him back to Camp Dragonhead. If he needed to exchange words with me, he could have done so from Whitebrim, but we barely said a word to each other. We didn’t even look at each other. I don’t get it- I saved his people from a primal. Did I do something wrong here?”

Haurchefant knew exactly why the Lord Commander would do such a thing. A conference with the Warrior of Light was one thing, but a personal interaction? No work or other business to buffer? And with such a stoic hero (or so she pretends to be), seemingly larger than life? The man was probably a puddle.

“Perhaps he just wanted Master Alphinaud there to say these words to as well. Pray, go on ahead without me, Dia. Another matter requires my attention, but I shall join you anon.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I don’t want another awkward silence, especially if Alphinaud tries to harangue him into joining the Alliance again.”

“Halone be good, you must stop him if he tries again.”

“The kid’s tongue has a mind of it’s own, I swear. If he tries, maybe I’ll cast Repose on him.” Haurchefant laughed at what he hoped was a joke as she left the office to see for just what he requested privacy.

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

Would Minfilia yell at me if I kicked Alphinaud in the head, Dia thought. For whatever genius he proclaims to be blessed with, subtlety consistently managed to escape his grasp. That in mind, she was more than a little relieved to understand fully the intention of their dealmakers. All they hid was a desire to keep the Garleans away, a desire she shared personally.

With that done, she followed the young Brave’s Commander out of the intercessory.

“Er, Dia, if I may have a moment…”

Or she would have, had Ser Aymeric not stopped her from doing so.

“I have no idea if there will ever be enough thanks for what you’ve done, but… I would like once more to say it: Thank you, Dia. Your risk was unimaginable, and that you were so willing to do it for a country you barely know… it’s astounding. While we owe the Scions much, to whom we’ll begin to repay by delivering supplies to Revenant’s Toll, I would also like to find some way to repay you personally. Mere words feel insufficient.”

Dia felt unsure what to make of the Lord Commander, but she appreciated the thought.

“Don’t worry about it”, she replied with a soft smile. She nodded to him and turned around to finally return to Revenant’s Toll.

Once she was out of the building, she retrieved the missive from her pocket, and re-read it once more to herself.

Inside the intercessory, Aymeric turned to Haurchefant with a question in mind that the lord of Camp Dragonhead could read with ease with the expression he wore on his face.

“Haurchefant, you’ve grown rather close with her, have you not?”

“As one should expect with one’s dear friends, yes. Why do you ask?” Haurchefant attempted to bury any hint of amusement.

“Have I insulted her? Has she said anything to you?”

He failed to hide it and released a closed-mouth chuckle.

“Ser Aymeric, she asked the same of you!”

His eyes widened in mortification, and his jaw dropped slightly. That he should be perceived as being insulted by someone like her, as if he had the nerve, felt unsettling.

“I…”

“She mentioned the return trip to Camp Dragonhead was… not the most pleasant of exchanges, to put it nicely. Now, Dia tends to do more than say, so it can be hard to interact; I cannot fault you for struggling to communicate. She does take some time to warm up, but with all due respect, Ser Aymeric, you must offer the hearth. I did so, and now, I couldn’t ask for a better friend and ally. You might find the same results, and clear up any misunderstandings, an important step if you truly wish to express personal gratitude.”

Aymeric kept his gaze to the floor. “Thank you for your candor, Haurchefant.” Soon after, he turned and exited the Intercessory alongside Lucia.

Haurchefant stayed behind to think. Perhaps it would be best to refrain from further intercession; ‘tis so amusing to watch Aymeric like this, he mused.