#and I just imagine with how over the top and 'fairy tale like' the romance betwee nMegatron and Slipstream probably was during the great war | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenix-downer · 2 years ago

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A Voiceless Longing

~2680 words. Cloud/Tifa. Fairy Tale AU, Royalty AU. Tifa POV. Angst, Dreams, Romance. For @clotibigbang.

Summary: Cloud is the crown prince of his kingdom but has been cursed into a deep sleep by a jealous Sephiroth who wants the throne all to himself. Tifa is the princess of a neighboring kingdom who befriended Cloud when they were children. Reunited as adults, they fell in love but have yet to confess their feelings to each other. Now cursed, Cloud’s true self is hidden deep within his dreams, and Tifa must traverse them to find it.

A deep silence had fallen over the Kingdom of Nibelheim. Sickly green light washed over the castle, the houses, the dusty pathways, and everything in between. Enchantment hung thick in the air and cast everything in an unearthly glow. Not a single soul was awake except for Tifa.

She ascended the final stairs of the tower, her echoing footsteps and labored breaths the only sounds in the castle. Her journey to reach this point had been difficult and draining, but at long last she was nearly to her goal. She paused at the top of the steps to catch her breath before pushing open the door to the tower.

“Cloud!” She rushed to his side, but he didn’t stir. He was lying on a simple bed with his eyes tightly shut. The ghostly pallor over his face and eerie green light dancing through the room made her heart clench.

This was the work of Lord Sephiroth, it had to be. The rumors had circulated for years, about nobles and other people of importance growing sick and dying under mysterious circumstances. Mako poisoning. And now the crown prince of Nibelheim was suffering from the condition. Once a victim lost consciousness, there was no hope of—

She shook her head. No. She couldn’t give up. Not on Cloud. He’d promised to be her hero, so long ago, but maybe he needed a hero too.

She rested a hand on his arm. “Cloud? Please, wake up.”

Still nothing. A lump built in her throat as she tried to keep her emotions in check. If only she’d told him how she felt, before it was too late. But she was true to her family’s surname and kept everything locked deep inside. Now she was reaping the consequences.

Tifa…

Tifa snapped to attention. Was that… Aerith’s voice? The lump in her throat worsened. She’d lost her dear friend over a year ago now, but the pain was still fresh, a wound that kept reopening. Aerith’s family came from a long line of mages, and she possessed magical powers. She’d even been investigating the cause of Mako poisoning before she—before she—

Tifa squeezed her eyes shut. If only Aerith were really here, she’d know what to do. Tifa thought she heard her voice sometimes, in her dreams, but she chalked it up to her imagination playing tricks on her mind and the grief over Aerith’s loss getting to her.

Still, it was worth a shot. “Aerith, if that’s really you, please, you have to help me.”

His dreams, Tifa. You have to get inside his dreams. It isn’t too late, but you have to hurry.

Tifa wiped her eyes. “Get inside his dreams?”

A kiss should do the trick, I think. Tifa could’ve sworn there was a playful lilt to her friend’s voice.

Tifa’s face flushed hot. “A kiss? Aerith, are you just teasing me or is this actual advice?”

Why can’t it be both?

“But he doesn’t know how I feel. I haven’t gotten to tell him yet.”

I know, but you will. Just kiss him, and I’ll help with the rest.

Tifa gazed at his face. This was not at all how she’d expected their first kiss to be. His skin was so pale and sickly that she wanted to nurse him back to health, not kiss him. But if kissing him would help, if there was a chance it would wake him—

She leaned down and hesitated for a moment, then gently pressed her lips to his. They were so cold and dry, and she hoped he would awaken soon so she could give him something to drink.

A moment later, a deep heaviness settled over her body. She felt like she was falling, falling, falling into a deep darkness, yet she wasn’t afraid. There was a sense of urgency, yes, but she also felt like someone was watching over her and guiding her along the right path.

At long last her feet hit solid ground, then she took a moment to gather her bearings. The green mist surrounding everything slowly dissipated, and a scene from her childhood unfolded around her: dusty desert and withered plants, towering mountains and plunging ravines. This was a Nibelheim ravaged by war, the dying groans of a kingdom in need of respite. While Cloud was royalty at the time, you hardly would’ve known it by looking at him or his home.

“Mom?” a young boy’s voice said. “Who’s that girl?”

Tifa smiled fondly, for she remembered this moment well. Cloud was just a boy, and he wore clean but plain clothes and held tightly to his mother’s hand. Tifa saw her younger self cowering behind her mother, her white dress and face dirty from their travels. Her father, meanwhile, had a giant scowl on his face as he surveyed their surroundings.

He never did like Nibelheim. Tifa supposed it wasn’t surprising.

“This is Princess Tifa,” Cloud’s mother said. “Her family is helping us, and we’re helping them.”

Cloud thought over this information for a few moments, then stared at Tifa some more. Tifa’s mother gently nudged her towards Cloud.

“Um, hello,” she said shyly, then curtsied. “My name’s Tifa.”

He bowed slightly. “I’m Cloud.”

“Cloud,” Tifa sounded out. “Like in the sky.” She stared at Cloud’s eyes. They were very blue and very different from the eyes of the people in her kingdom, hers included.

“Uh-huh.” He scowled and scratched his cheek. “What’s Tifa mean?”

Tifa frowned at this. No one had ever asked what her name meant. She looked to her mother for help.

“We named her for many things, Cloud,” Tifa’s mother said, and the scene blended from this one to a quiet moment between mother and daughter. Warm summer rain blanketed the world outside as Tifa’s mother carefully brushed her hair by candlelight.

“Balance, because that’s when we’re at our happiest,” Mom said, and Tifa stared at her reflection in the mirror and nodded. “Beauty, because inner beauty influences outer beauty.” With this Mom tied a big red ribbon in her hair. “And compassion, because it’s important to be good to other people.”

Tifa nodded again, and Mom smiled. “And most of all, we named you Tifa because—”

Before Mom could finish what she was saying, the scene faded away, and Tifa was surrounded by darkness. A deep ache throbbed in her chest. Mom was long gone. Had died when mother and daughter alike were still so young. Not because of something epic or dramatic like war or poisoning or palace intrigue. No, just ordinary sickness that all too often claims lives before their time.

Mom, Dad, Aerith… why did they all have to die when Tifa lived on? She clenched her fists and fought the lump in her throat. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, and Tifa had to ask herself why them and not her. What was so special about her that meant she got to live and they had to die. Even Cloud’s mother was dead now. She and Cloud were the only two people alive in a sea of ghosts.

For now, anyway. Tifa couldn’t give up, Cloud was counting on her. She felt that tugging on her heart again, and green lights lit the path and led her through the darkness till presently she spotted a slightly older, slightly taller Cloud. He wore a black dress shirt and black pants with black boots, and his hair was a little longer than it had been in the previous memory. She called out to him, but he neither turned towards her nor acknowledged her voice, so she ran after him.

As the craggy rocks and foggy slopes of Mt. Nibel materialized around her, a clack-clack-clack sounded out from beneath her feet. She paused and grabbed the handrails of the rickety bridge, swaying back and forth as the bridge swung to and fro. This bridge led to Mt. Nibel, and it was all too easy to lose your footing.

There, up ahead on the same bridge. She saw Cloud going after… after her. She wore a black dress and veil with her hair pinned into a harsh bun. Her steps were slow, her movements trancelike.

“Mom,” she heard her younger self say as she clung to a red ribbon. “I’ll see you soon…”

Mom was dead.

Tifa’s memories of this time were clouded by grief and a strange obsession with Mt. Nibel. The towering mountain was mysterious enough that she thought crossing it would mean she got to see Mom again. Stories from her kingdom spoke of holy mountains where the boundary between the living and the dead merged and people could see loved ones long gone. But what she didn’t know was that Cloud had gone after her.

“Tifa!” his younger self cried as he steadied himself on the bridge. “You can’t go up there, it’s dangerous!”

Tifa turned to look at him, and her eyes were glassy and swirling with green. “But Mom…”

“She’s gone!” Cloud cried. “She’s gone, and she isn’t coming back!”

Tifa’s face scrunched up. “But I wanna see her again.”

“But you can’t! And if you try, you might—”

Tifa slipped on one of the loose slats, and Cloud gasped and grabbed her hand. For an agonizing moment they both teetered on the edge of the bridge. Tifa’s present self reached for them, her heart racing. It didn’t matter though. They went tumbling into the dried-up ravine below.

Cloud cushioned her younger self’s fall and took the worst of it himself. Tifa’s present self couldn’t help but be moved by the selfless act. Why hadn’t he ever told her about this? Especially because—

His younger self woke up to the sounds of her father and his men nearby. They were moving as quickly up the mountain path as they could, and Cloud called out to them. “It’s Tifa, she needs help!” he said, his voice rough and scratchy. He coughed and coughed but kept calling for help. The men carefully moved into the ravine towards the sound of his voice.

When at last they found them, her father took in her limp body cradled in Cloud’s arms, and his face went bright red. “What have you done?” he shouted. “You could’ve gotten her killed! You foolish, reckless boy!” Her father lowered himself into the ravine and snatched Tifa from Cloud. “You stay away from my daughter, understand? I don’t want you seeing her or talking to her again!”

Cloud hung his head and wouldn’t meet her father’s eyes. “Yes sir,” he mumbled.

Her father left with her unconscious younger self, and his men followed after him after a brief discussion about what to do about Cloud. In the end they left Cloud behind in the ravine. Tifa wanted to shout at them all. How could they leave him when he was clearly injured himself? A cut was etched across his cheek, his pants were torn at the knees, and he was cradling his arm. All because he’d cushioned her fall, and yet he didn’t say a word to defend himself.

“Cloud, why didn’t you ever tell me?” she said sadly. And how did he get out of here—

Footsteps sounded out from the direction of the mountain. Tifa squinted to see if she could make out who it was. Maybe her martial arts teacher Zangan? But no, once the figure was close enough, her stomach recoiled. Tall build, silver, chin-length hair, sickly green eyes, and a sharp white and black uniform with leather gloves. Lord Sephiroth, but not as she knew him now. He was still a teenager, but presumably a part of Cloud’s mother’s guard already.

“Cloud,” he said as he lowered himself into the ravine, his voice slippery smooth, “are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Cloud mumbled. He tried to sit up, and his face twisted into a wince, putting an end to that claim. He always had been one to hide his pain beneath a tough guy act.

“Here, let me help,” Sephiroth told him, then reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a potion bottle swirling with green liquid. “Drink this, it’ll heal your injuries and restore your strength,” he told Cloud, and Cloud nodded and did as he was told.

Tifa thought, for a moment, that she spotted a flicker of green go through Cloud’s eyes, but then it was over and his eyes were back to their normal blue. Or at least, the blue they’d been when he was a child. Sephiroth picked Cloud up and carefully carried him out of the ravine and down the mountain and back to his mother.

Was it possible Sephiroth had been poisoning him for much longer than anyone had previously suspected? That potion was suspicious. Maybe Sephiroth’s machinations had been going on for much longer than anyone knew.

Well, there was only one way to find out. She spotted another version of Cloud, this time with his hair in a low ponytail and wearing loose-fitting, casual clothes and boots. Green lights lit her way, and she followed after him.

The years that followed the mountain incident had been fraught with tension between her father and Cloud’s mother. Her father blamed Cloud for Tifa’s week-long coma, and his mother was furious how her father had left Cloud in the ravine by himself.

“He was injured and you just left him there!” Tifa once overheard his mother shouting at her father in one of the rooms of Nibelheim Castle. “If it weren’t for my loyal guard Sephiroth, he could’ve died! Is that any way to treat the crown prince of the land that’s sheltering you?”

“Is dragging my daughter to that dangerous mountain any way to treat her? It’s a miracle Tifa didn’t die that day!”

Cloud had refused to clear his name from the allegations. All Tifa knew was that she was to avoid him. Then her father told her to pack her things because they wouldn’t be staying in the Kingdom of Nibelheim any longer. So they’d left and wandered from place to place seeking shelter from allies like Gongaga. But the war against Wutai raged on, kept her and her father and their people from going home, and drove them back to Nibelheim several years later.

The frosty years of distance between her family and his family could’ve been avoided if only Cloud had defended himself. So why hadn’t he?

“Seriously, Cloud, why didn’t you say anything?” Tifa wondered aloud as she followed after the memory of his younger self. “Did you blame yourself for what happened?”

What do you think?

She gasped. “Cloud? Is that you?” She halted and glanced around, searching for his current self, though the younger Cloud was getting away. The first time she’d heard his real voice since entering this place, and he sounded so tired and weak.

Keep searching for me. I’m closer than you think.

“Right.” She ran after his disappearing younger self, the scenery from Mt. Nibel fading away around them. So he knew she was here. Where was here? His mind? His heart? If his consciousness was stirring, was he awakening?

At last she caught up to his younger self, but the moment she reached for him, her hand went straight through him. He turned, and his eyes had a little less blue and a little more green than before. The scenery unfolded around them, the sky outside matching his eyes and the dress of her younger self as she climbed through the open window. A midnight rendezvous at the very tower their current selves were in now.

As her younger self approached his younger self, the stars shone brightly in the heavens above, casting their silver light into the tower and illuminating Cloud’s face like a lamp held to a book. A rare night of peace and respite, a warm summer’s evening so long ago.

Tifa smiled fondly at the memory. For while their parents had kept them separated, fate was a stubborn, mischievous thing and had brought them together again. She could only hope it would be on her side this time too.

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A/N: This story was written for Beneath Strange Stars: Cloti Big Bang 2022. A big, big thank you to the other Team 2 Members, Tiny Little Robots for her beta work and Mars for the beautiful art! You can see the art here.

Thank you for reading!

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 4 years ago

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Infatuation - Jaemin [Pt. 2]

University AU

TW: Obsessive Themes, Stalking, Drug Mention, Descriptions of Following/Stalking, Language, Minor (Non-Graphic) Somnophilia

Genre: Suspense, Thriller, Psychological Horror

Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(E1/E5) (2/2) [Chapter 1] | [Previous]

[Main Masterlist] | [Infatuation Masterlist]

Word Count: 10.7K

Notes: Here’s the second part of what I decided to split into two! For consistencies sake I might do this for the other endings too, I ended up adding more things to this part to make it longer, haha, bringing Jaemin’s end to a grand total of about 18K, holy cow! Sorry for the short delay on this, I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

It happened rather slowly, he thinks.

This fairy tale romance he had trapped himself in, it was in plain sight, and yet he walked right into it willingly. Na Jaemin always considered himself a smart man, he was top of his class in high school then had his ass royally handed to him upon entrance to university, but he bounced back from that shock. He always considered himself confident enough to call the shots, to make the big decisions, he considered himself reliable. Until that first day of the quarter rolled around, oh how his life turned upside down. He thought he had all that he wanted, the validation from the masses, the high marks anyone would ogle at, anyone would look to him with a varying amount of envy.

Until he saw someone walk trying to pull open a door that clearly said ‘push.’

Of all the people to become helplessly obsessed over.

It happened to be an idiot.

An idiot who suddenly made him act like an idiot, never had he wanted to know someone more. He didn’t know it then, that this obsession would develop, at the time you were simply another face in passing. But he couldn’t deny that he fancied this story that was in development, a perfect fantasy that will have its happy ending, a wondrous tale of trials and tribulations all in his name, he was curious of the outcome, the grand finale that will tie this story in a beautiful ribbon.

He didn’t think there would be such a shocking plot point, however. Stepping out of the bus, looking down at his untied shoelaces for a second, then getting hit by a swung open door to his favorite coffee spot. With all of his books on the floor and his already broken glasses knocked off of his face, it should come as no surprise that he felt more disappointed than embarrassed, as it was just that point in the quarter where he and many other students could simply not give a fuck. He didn’t even stand back up right away, he just sighed. Has his life really come to this? He had forgotten that his friend had to borrow his car so he had to take the bus of all things to get to campus, but any person who’s known him only for a second knows that he can’t do so much as speak without at least two shots of espresso, today was not his lucky day at all.

“Sorry! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I wasn’t paying attention! Are you alright?” He knows this voice, wait, no, it can’t be. Surely he’s just imagining this, right? Wouldn't be the first time he thought that he heard it. Then he noticed a strange blur being handed to him, and once he realized that it was his glasses, he took them slowly and placed them back on.

If time could stop, then it did at that very moment.

Record scratch, background blurs, muffled music, this scene was straight out of a romantic comedy. It was an affable moment, one that he was certain that he’d look back and laugh over, but little would you know that it was a marking moment in his life, the beginning of a new chapter.

Now, what were you doing here?

More importantly, did this mean that he had to amend his notes? Did you drop Literature? Why? Were you failing? Were you overwhelmed? Was there anything he could do to help at all? Wait, slow down here, you talked to him. This was progress, a step in the right direction. You had said a full sentence and you looked concerned for him.

He could stare at them forever, they were the first thing he noticed, a door to the soul as many would say. If you wanted to read someone, anyone, look into their eyes. There was a certain psychology surrounding that area that many should be more aware of, they hardly ever lie. There’s a reason why the typical romantic poet or author would spend sentences among paragraphs on describing them alone. Visually they are appealing and symbolically they stand for so much. In your eyes, he saw many things, but among the most they were so full of love and kindness, he was entranced, he wanted to keep them forever, keep them for himself, he wanted you to look at him differently than you looked at anyone else.

But soon time would resume, and he would have to come up with something to say. What would he say to you? Wait, wait, come on, Jaemin, think. He had practiced for days and nights what he’d say to you once you came up to him. He stood in front of mirrors for hours on end to practice. He had the scenario in his head already. He’d take your hand, allow you to help him up, then he’d listen to what you had to say and respond appropriately. He knows not to rush things, to let events take their natural course, so he wouldn’t ask for your number right off the bat or anything, but he would take the first step. But, what did he say?

“Sorry,” he didn’t even properly say it, he didn’t even know if you heard him. He just grabbed his things and ran in.

Like a loser.

He fucked that up. Nothing ever went according to plan whenever you were involved and he despised it. He was so used to knowing how outcomes will play out and how to achieve them that whenever you came around and fucked everything up he’d get wordlessly pissed. And it would always be around you of all the people. That image he worked so long on building would get moved to the trash and deleted permanently whenever you were within eyesight of him. It was humiliating, and that was only in simple terms. How could he be that fairy tale prince you’ve been waiting for if he keeps screwing up around you?

He just placed his books on one of the tables and walked up to the counter, then another familiar face, and one he’d rather not see.

“What can I get you?” The barista smiled. Jaemin stopped himself from grimacing.

This guy again, of course, he remembers the way he looked at you at that one party, he was the sole reason why he couldn’t speak to you that day and the horror. He didn’t even want to go, he just tagged along with Jeno since he was so insistent on getting a foot into the frat, and of course it was a pleasant enough surprise to see you there also, drunk out of your mind but still the most wonderful thing he had seen. He was about to approach you himself until this very barista in front of him stepped in instead and, goodness gracious, the way his face grimaced. The clumsy fucker ran into him and spilled jungle juice all over him, it was the most mortifying moment of his life to date because you saw all of it. He ended up going home without doing a single thing that night aside from nursing a hungover best friend.

“Just a regular coffee please, add eight shots,” he says.

“What was that?”

“Regular coffee, eight shots. Make it a venti too,” he answers. He turned his phone over and allowed Johnny to scan it.

“Alright, it’ll be out in a few minutes,” he nodded his head and got to work on the order while Jaemin leaned against one of the tables, waiting patiently for the drink. With thoughts plagued of you, he fought back the smile on his face. What a way to start the day, but at the same time, he couldn’t help the huge amount of concern that he had. He had hoped that you were doing well, but he’d always freeze up before being able to say anything. He caught a brief glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window and shook his head, had he known that he would run into you, he’d at least have done his hair instead of leaving it in its unkempt state as usual. “Jaemin, your coffee’s ready,” Johnny placed it on the pickup area and Jaemin took it without another word said.

He took his time walking to campus, listening to his shuffled playlist while staying as alert as necessary in the bustling city. While he walked he couldn’t help but let his mind wander, he wondered what it would be like to just have you walking next to him, he wondered what you’d say or how you’d act, were you anything like he fantasized you to be? He wanted nothing more than to get to know you properly, but you just had this effect on him and he loses all of that charm that many people know him for, hell, he fell on his ass in front of you and gawked like a child would looking at a lollipop. He shook his head and adjusted his glasses, he had been meaning to fix them properly for some time but he hasn’t had the opportunity. He’s been playing this game, of sorts, and he’s afraid that he was in danger of losing.

It would seem that he wasn't the only one that sought your attention, a true curse that had been bestowed upon you, and one that he was determined to break. Just like a prince with a true love’s kiss, this was one curse that he would be certain to save you from. He had everything planned down to how he would confess to you, but he knew better than to get his hopes up, nothing ever went according to plan around you. He could have all of these notebooks filled with facts and tidbits about you but he’d never have enough to figure out how to properly say a word to you.

“Na Jaemin!” The voice of his overactive best friend was the first thing that greeted him on the dreary campus.

“Jeno,” He answered him bluntly.

“You’re here early, I was just heading to class, but I can skip if you want,” Jeno offers.

“And do what?”

“I dunno, but anything beats history,” he says.

“Sounds fun, but I have to get to Physics. My TA’s apparently searching the lecture halls and making sure we all show up,” Jaemin frowns.

“That’s ridiculous, seriously?” Jeno follows Jaemin as he walks towards the Physics hall. “Why is he doing that?”

“We don’t participate in discussion,” Jaemin scoffs. “I’ll see you in an hour, Jeno,” Jaemin walked into the lecture hall, leaving Jeno outside.

The two met at orientation, they were paired for an ice breaker game and Jeno hadn’t left his side since. Don’t misunderstand this situation as Jaemin being particularly annoyed at Jeno, he’s actually quite grateful for the companionship, it’s just that their two personalities greatly contrast each other to the point where it somehow works out. Both of them easily confide with each other and despite the disparity in understandings the friendship works quite well. The best way Jaemin could describe it is as a balance, they both keep each other in check. Save for the evolving plot between you and him, Jeno has no clue about that. Well, kind of, he knows that Jaemin has his eye on someone but Jaemin ensured that Jeno never learned the extent of that curiosity, for obvious reasons.

He sat in his usual spot in the middle rows, it was close enough to see the screens comfortably but far enough so that if his professor was feeling particularly annoying that day he wouldn’t get called on. He pulled his laptop out and opened the screen, ready to turn on the MacBook until his eye caught a familiar someone who he didn’t remember being in this class, the same someone who came to be the only person to make his heart skip every other beat.

Now… when did it start?

Jaemin thought to himself while he sat back in the lecture hall, he didn’t recall you having this class, and he could only get so much from looking at the reflection on his laptop screen. You were with him again, of course you were, that nuisance of a best friend, it very nearly made his blood boil to see you with him, what did Renjun have that he didn’t? He wondered if you remembered him at all, he was in your orientation group too, you know. One of his many regrets was that he didn’t take the initiative then to get to know you, no, he waited a couple of years to finally realize how head over heels he was for you. Then, Jaemin looked at his reflection on the screen. He was wearing large wireframe glasses that broke in half at the bridge quite some time ago, something he had lazily repaired with some tape and called it a day. He hadn’t properly styled his hair in some time either, and maybe the ‘I-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck-Anymore’ college student style was overdone, he could only wear the same three hoodies for so long before people stopped caring. He really only took care of his appearance for photo ops or big gatherings, but when it came to a casual day he couldn’t care less. Apparently, no one recognized him anyway, and if they did they never said anything. The stark difference between him and his internet persona was jarring, to say the least, maybe he should work on merging the two if it meant that he wouldn’t look like he didn’t care.

He wasn’t presentable, to say the least.

Now Renjun, on the other hand, was well kept. Hair was always done well, clothes ironed, he, unlike many, actually had his shit together. The way he presented himself everywhere was relatively stagnant, it very rarely wavered. Something many should be envious of when it came to the studious man, but Jaemin was only ever envious for one thing, which happened to be sitting right at Renjun’s right. What to do to get your attention? Jaemin wondered. You accidentally shoving him over in front of that Starbucks was probably the best thing to ever happen to him this month, to be honest, but what could he do on his end? At this point, he was even willing to befriend the boy to your left just to get closer to you. He tried before at the library, but the amount of notes he had was only basic, it was the application that would be the toughest obstacle. Maybe. But that exchange in the coffee shop, he knew something was there, did you feel it too? The spark between your hands when you handed him his glasses, he couldn’t have been the only one that felt that, surely.

It was the second time you had ever spoken to him. The first being that time you asked him for the study guide, goodness gracious. If he wasn’t careful he could’ve gone entirely red just thinking about it. The way your fingertips grazed his, the way you looked at him when you thanked him, even the way you spoke to him drove him insane. With his heart racing and his head pounding, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, nor would he want to. He couldn’t get a single word out that day, only handing you the study guide and nodding when you thanked him. It was a harmony, almost, the way you sounded. He often let his mind drift back to that day, a low guilty pleasure of his and one he would never admit aloud.

Well, he had always been thinking about you since he saw you on the first day of the semester, but at that time it was just simple infatuation, something he had expected to long go away once he moved on to the next girl or guy as usual. But it didn’t. No, it just grew more, distance makes the heart fonder, his mother would say, and never did he believe it until now. With only four rows between him and you, he was reeling.

He remembered that day clearly, when you walked into chemistry lecture with notebooks and coffee in hand, you were dolled up for your first day, as was everyone, but unlike everyone, you kept it up. He himself had dressed for the first day impressions, but after realizing that no one else gave a shit he had just resorted to rolling out of bed and driving to school. But now, it looks like he’s going to have to put a bit more effort into this. How else could he catch your attention? He has spent too long watching from afar, too long fantasizing about what could and couldn’t be, no wait, what should be.

Even now his mind wandered, he had run so many scenarios from just looking at you. From things as simple as conversations to things as complex as weddings, he had his entire life with you planned to the very detail. If he could he’d even put it down in writing but he hadn’t had the time to even consider a good plot. He does, however, herald himself as amazing. There are times where he’d even be able to delude himself enough to believe that you were actually there speaking to him. Even now, while he was staring at you through a fucking computer screen, he could imagine just how your hands would graze his, just how they would hold onto his, how they would…

Maybe he should stop there.

Thoughts like that were only for the safety of his room, not the perils of a university hall.

He feigned interest in the lecture and stared at the middle projector screen, something about Rotational Motion and springs, something he could always read up on later, but he should write a note or two down, he can only keep a blank document open for so long before it looks sketchy. Truthfully, he didn’t even know why he had his laptop out anyway, it’s not like it was in any way practical to use a simple pages document for physics. And the old drawing tablet he received as a gift was getting on in years. He dug his hand through his hair, messing it up even more so than it already was, it was just so amazing to him how overwhelmed you could make him, but good god he hoped he didn’t look like an idiot right now. He looked around surreptitiously and, as expected, everyone was still focused on the lecture.

This effect you had on him, he wasn’t necessarily a fan of it. He had always known exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it, and not to mention how to get it. He understood just how everyone acted to the point of blatant manipulation, until he met you. He was just playing a game with himself, trying to guess what someone was going to do next, it was just a way to pass the time while the professor droned on and on about the syllabus, and usually he did rather well, then he did it with you and he was wrong on multiple occasions.

That must have been it.

It was simple intrigue that turned into love, yes, that’s how some of these things start, right? In all of those novels he read and all of the movies he’s watched it usually started as simple harmless intrigue. And in the end, they always end up together, never had he seen an enjoyable movie where they hadn’t. Yes, his story will be just like that, authored by none other than the Na Jaemin. He glanced at his computer screen again to catch a glimpse of you, then he felt his heart stop.

It felt like Renjun was looking right at him through the reflection.

Jaemin threw his hood over his head in an instant, a natural response for him, he didn’t want you to see him in this state more than you already had. You deserved perfection. And, at the moment, he wasn’t that. He looked down at his drawing tablet and scribbled a few equations that were on the board and, taking a deep breath in, he looked at your reflection again, and yet again his heart ceased to beat.

Where did you go?

He glanced around the lecture hall. You weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place, it threw him off entirely and now his notes would mean nothing. He stood up quietly and walked out of the lecture hall, not caring if his TA noticed him there or not. Once he was back out into the open, he surveyed the courtyard before him. Aside from the unfamiliar students, there was no sign of you, then he picked up your voice very faintly. He now looked towards his left and there you were, walking off with Renjun to what he assumed to be the food hub.

He made sure to walk around you, crossing the courtyard in its entirety to lay low. He had overheard that you were now more aware of your surroundings, so to speak, such discouraged that one second year, he didn’t remember his name, but he was quite the eccentric fellow and he decided not to spend more time on him than necessary. But that could also spell problems for him. You’d be surprised how often you both ran into each other and you never knew, nor batted an eye towards him, and he was okay with that, of course, he didn’t want to rush things. But even he grew tired of simply being in the same area, he wanted more, and he wanted it soon. He brushed shoulders with another student, getting pulled out of his thoughts at the sudden reaction.

“Jaemin! I haven’t seen you in a bit,” the upperclassman smiles.

“Hello, Jungwoo,” he waved his hand slowly.

“Off to class?”

“I am.”

“Ah, good luck studying then,” Jungwoo walked off first before Jaemin continued on his way down, but he did catch Jungwoo crossing the courtyard and walking in your general direction. Yet another obstacle. Jaemin shook his head and pushed his hands in his pockets. If only you knew the competition he was dealing with, maybe you’d have some kind of change of heart? All these villains coming after you, he didn’t know how else to describe them. How horrific, to be the jewel in the eyes of criminals, he couldn’t help but be worried.

He sat a couple of tables away from you and Renjun, out of the attention span of both of you but still close enough to hear a conversation if he so strained his ear. So you really were aware of your stalkers, that much soothed him but also put him on edge, you were never as observant as you should be but now you were more likely to catch onto him, but hopefully you’d notice the much too enthusiastic junior who would walk past the large glass walls. Or not, you always surprised him. He reached into his backpack to pull out his materials, might as well do some work while watching you, right?

“What?!” The sudden rise in your voice startled him into dropping his drawing tablet. He turned his head towards you and saw Renjun standing with his hands on the chair’s back.

“Whoa, (Y/N), I’m just going to grab a sandwich at Subway…” Renjun’s voice was shocked and Jaemin scoffed slightly at that. He could tell that you were on edge, more so than usual. He looked away, afraid that you’d catch him. He caught a few more words of your conversation before a particular phrase stood out to him.

“You know what? I’m just going to go grab a bag of chips from the small store over there, okay?” Jaemin’s phone was out in an instant, shooting a text to Jeno, who had just started his shift.

That Jeno, he never really knows when to keep his mouth shut, one day his big running mouth will be the death of him, which is what Jaemin was slightly afraid of. To reiterate a point, Jeno was one of the only people Jaemin really talked to on a normal basis, as regretful as it sounds, he’d hate it if something happened to him. He watched the exchange through his peripherals, all while typing at his research paper. Jeno had that same stupid smile he always had on while he was telling you what Jaemin assumed to be that your food was paid for. As you grabbed your things Jaemin refocused on his computer screen, just narrowly avoiding your watchful glances.

Renjun stood up this time, walking away from the table and Jaemin felt himself relax. He couldn’t tell if Renjun was onto him or not, especially after Renjun pointed him out earlier, Jaemin realized that he’d have to be more guarded now, he can’t risk being caught, or else the other two would find a way to swoop in and take his place, he worked hard to be here, and he’s not going to risk it all because of your over-observant friend. He wondered if Renjun would become a problem, and he secretly hoped that he wouldn’t be, it was hard to cover things up now with all the surveillance throughout the city. Upon his return, Jaemin once again strained to listen to your conversation, but was only able to pick up a few words.

Chemistry, studying, overthinking, ignored. Those were the words that really stuck out to him at first, or at least they were the ones you said the most clearly, the rest of the hushed conversation was lost over the chatter of students.

“… month ago,” your voice was still quiet amongst the mass, but Jaemin was able to piece together the main point of the conversation. A whole month? That’s how long you knew? He had been watching you for a while now, and he wasn’t even sure about the others, not that he particularly cared. He then noticed another hurdle bounce into the food hub with a particular skip in her step.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late,” she walked up to your table just as Renjun pulled a chair over and placed a bag of McDonald’s on the table. “Got you guys french fries.” The one thing Jaemin was grateful for was Somi’s rather loud volume.

“I love you,” your voice rang in his head and he swallowed the squeak that was about to come out of his mouth. He wondered what that phrase would sound like if it were directed to him, what tone would you use? How low or high would you say it? Your smile, would it be sweet or sultry? Already he was adding it into his fantasy, one that he would no doubt indulge in tonight. More conversation, most of which Jaemin could care less about, until a particular part. “Then there was the time I went home late…”

Now, that wasn’t him.

He couldn’t think of a time he followed you home, or at least not recently. He leaned towards your table slightly, your voice very quiet while he listened to the story. His first thought was Jungwoo, he lived in the same apartment complex as you but he quickly remembered him saying he had committee meetings for STEM Council that ran until ten at night, there was no physical way for him to be able to follow you home at that time. Then came Johnny, he couldn’t tell whether or not it would be him because it could equally as likely be that weirdo from the pet shop. Jaemin never concerned himself with Johnny’s practice schedule, but he realized he had no choice but to ask Jeno about it later, what with the two being on the same team. And from there he’ll deduce whether or not Sungchan had the guts to try.

“If you want us to move in with you, I’ll do it in a heartbeat, just say the word,” Somi’s voice, loud as ever, interrupted Jaemin’s assumptions. Jaemin ceased typing in his document, his hands were subconsciously typing out the very thoughts he had been pondering over, and listened in again.

“I’ll ask my parents if I can move in with you, you know how they are,” Renjun, what was just a pebble in the road had turned into a landslide as of late. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Jungwoo anymore, he was smart enough to know that Somi wasn’t as airheaded as she let on. There have been a few times where she nearly caught him staring and many more where she pointed out Johnny, particularly at the party.

It would seem that this game has a whole new rule set that he didn’t account for.

And with that, the days came and went, he had been able to figure out that your nigh stalker was indeed the zealous fraternity nut and, after a few strings were pulled, Jaemin was able to keep him occupied for the rest of the school year. He had only seen it in passing, but it was something about a sudden drop in GPA after an anonymous tip was delivered to the Student Disciplinary Committee about a student who was bribing other students into giving them the answers. Who knew an entire fraternity would be involved? He felt bad for having to throw Jeno under the bus with him though. He had found out a majority of the proceedings through the newly admitted member to Nu Gamma Tau.

“So, how’d you notice her?” Jeno sat across from Jaemin in the library.

“Who?”

“Miss Bumble Girl!” Jeno laughs, naming you after the humble store you bought your lunch at.

“(Y/N)?”

“So that’s her name, she’s pretty.”

“She is.”

“Oh man, you really do like her, huh?”

“How did you assume that?” Jaemin flipped through his book, writing down information about his chemistry project.

“I’m pretty sure the only other name you know on campus is mine, I don’t even know if you know your professor’s name.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You only ever call them professor!”

“And?”

“You only talk to me.”

“And?”

“It’s just my observation, dude.”

“Alright,” Jaemin flipped a page in the textbook again, just briefly seeing you exit the elevator. “Put this back for me, Jeno,” he closed the textbook and slid it to him.

“Where… where does this even go?” Jaemin quirked an eyebrow, he wouldn’t know, this was the STEM library, Jeno had only ever gone to the humanities one.

“Aisle 18, row 4, shelf 7.”

“Whoa, you remembered that? You’re crazy, Jaemin,” Jeno took the book and left. It was the only textbook that mentioned doxylamine, you’d need it. Perhaps he was just being petty, but he was certain that no one would pay any mind to the ripped-out page in his pocket, Jeno didn’t even bat an eye, whether that was intentional or just his brain being focused on something else. He wanted you to rely on him, after all. He had always been the professor’s favorite, just a simple request during office hours was all he needed for you and him to be partnered together, yes he wanted things to happen naturally, but with the quarter drawing to a close maybe a small push was necessary. Just as Jeno returned he saw you walk into the necessary aisle, then re-emerge with the clunky textbook in hand. Finally, you entered a study room, out of sight. “What are you writing on?”

“Doxylamine.”

“What’s that?”

“Chemical compound.”

“For…?”

“Organic Chemistry.”

“Hold on, I’m gonna get you a coffee, I forgot how weird you were without it,” Jeno stood up again and walked towards the elevator, the coffee machine being on the first floor.

“Finally…” Jaemin was wondering when he’d get the hint. He finished up his notes and stared at the compound.

Doxylamine was an antihistamine whose most well-known side effect was drowsiness, it could be found in many “nighttime” versions of medicines, from what he knew. He was only familiar with it because he interned at a lab momentarily, and they were working with it, thus he was relieved to see it assigned to him for his final project. Jeno returned with two cups in hand.

“Eight shots, just how you like it,” he says. He sits down and opens his computer again right as Jaemin drinks half of the cup.

“What are you working on?”

“Final paper for history. I keep switching in between prompts and I can’t stick to one. Every time I get a good amount done on one prompt I suddenly feel more confident with the other,” and Jeno continued. It was a bit cruel, but Jeno could be rather chatty, especially with the caffeine that was now coursing through him, that question should be getting him going for a while, at least. It bought Jaemin some time to think through a plan of his. This partnership won’t last forever, with only a few weeks left of the quarter, Jaemin will need to establish more of a relationship if he still wants to keep talking to you.

His thoughts initially moved to Somi, he could easily befriend her, he recognized her amongst his many Instagram followers, and from what he’s observed she was always open to meeting new people and befriending them, the most notable instance of this being with Nakamoto Yuta. But, as he stated before, she’s observant, too smart for her own good, and would no doubt catch onto his true intentions if he wasn’t careful enough, and that’s not a risk he’s willing to take. He already had somewhat of a friendship building with Renjun, having been in the same group a few times and having exchanged numbers quite some time ago. He could easily cultivate that relationship aside from Somi’s, she was hardly a variable in this equation.

Ping.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

Jaemin swallowed a nervous sigh.

“What’s up?” Jeno stopped talking.

“Uh, it’s fine, don’t you have class soon?” Jaemin looked at the clock and Jeno followed his gaze, gasping at the late time.

“Oh god, you’re right! I’ll talk to you later, Jaemin!” Jeno hurriedly packed his things and rushed off to his seminar. Jaemin sighed with relief when his phone pinged again, but his eyes grew wide instead at the contact name. He turned his phone over, his heart pumping at a mile a minute, he knew that Renjun gave you his number, but he didn’t think you’d text back so soon. To be fair, he’s had your number for quite some time, he had googled your information decades ago and found your number attached to your LinkedIn so he saved it through there.

It was amazing how even through text you could make him all hot and bothered like this. His face was red, and no doubt the tips of his ears were a dead giveaway alongside that. It was embarrassing, almost, he’d never had someone make him act this way, it was very nearly a blow to his pride. How could you be such a wonderful person even through a screen? He was entranced, he always was with you. He couldn’t even type out proper texts without multitudes of typos that were too embarrassing to send out, and thus stuck to short ones.

He felt bad for sabotaging your activity, but he was certain that Seokjin would overlook it for him at least, he was the favorite student, after all, with the highest grades. Or, at the very least, that’s what he asked Seokjin to do, just a simple overlook of your no doubt messy activity sheet.

Watching you through his computer screen, he saw that that was what Seokjin did, assuming from your sudden relaxed form and Seokjin’s notorious point-and-nod warnings. He wondered what was going through your mind right now, he was never able to tell, so unpredictable. He noticed you looking over at him, you must have figured out that he was your partner, who else could it be? No one came close to his grades, he was the best partner for you. He could easily overlook all of the things you said about him in the past, you didn’t know, you couldn’t have known it was him, he kept a low profile for a reason. He looked up to the screen as the list of partners appeared and, sure enough, your name was next to his. He saw you get up and walk towards him.

‘Alright, relax, Jaemin, you practiced this.’ That was true, he stood in front of mirrors to practice what he’d say to you, any person would think him to be insane. He kept himself preoccupied with his laptop, busily writing down notes to play it cool, just as he practiced. He’d turn to you first, ask you about the project, maybe crack a joke about how ironic it was that you were partners given that Renjun already gave you his number. He had it all planned out, then you tapped his shoulder and he felt every nerve in his arm tense.

“Hi, I’m your partner for the project?”

“Oh, what a coincidence,” Stupid. That’s all you have to say to her? What could he do, you threw him off his train of thought, the plan went to nothing, as usual.

“Ah, yeah, I have a discussion after this class and I promised my roommate we’d watch Criminal Minds together, so maybe we can meet up tomorrow?” Right, your roommate, he almost forgot about her.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good, well, you already have my number.”

“Yeah.” If only you knew.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Well, it’s 3:50 so… I’ll head over to my discussion now.”

“So then we’re meeting at the same place tomorrow?” He’d go there anyway, but he didn’t want this conversation to end just yet. He’d speak with you in discussion after this, but maybe he could keep a conversation going. He was never the best conversationalist, but he’d try for you.

“Yup, same place. I’ll treat you to coffee.”

“Okay, see you then,” Jaemin walked past you. Sirens were going off in his head, he couldn’t do this. You were too sweet, he’d give in to you if you continued talking to him for even a few more seconds, he was already afraid that his face had turned red and he couldn’t bear the embarrassment. But this embarrassment would only grow, you both had the same discussion and went the same way. There was no point in him breaking off from you and going another way, not that he was complaining, it would be more awkward for you both to show up at the same place after splitting.

You both soon came to a stop in front of the door to your discussion room. You stood in front of the door rather awkwardly, and if only you weren’t standing right by the handle, he would’ve opened the door for you.

“Uh…” He wondered what you were thinking, but you made no sign of saying anything else.

“I have this discussion too,” he finally said. He could practically see the realization wash over your features. Did you seriously not know he was in this class with you? Granted, he had always arrived before you, but he at least thought that you would spare him a glance. He had to be honest, that was a little disheartening. Then again, he never really made an effort to stand out, that could’ve been it. It must have been his fault.

“Oh, haha,” you cleared your throat and he just nodded.

“So,” he hesitated for a moment, briefly forgetting what he was going to say, “are you going to open the door?”

“Right yeah, I was going to do that,” you spoke in a rushed voice, did he make you feel awkward? That wasn’t his intention. You opened the door and it slammed into the side of his foot, he winced silently as he only slightly lost his balance. “Whoops, sorry,” your voice was small and he nodded again, he was sure he’d say something stupid, so instead he reached over you and opened the door wide enough for him to walk past you. He watched you rush to your desk, he wasn’t usually fond of sitting near the front, but he’d make an exception today and sit next to you.

“Hi,” you said to him. Confused as ever, he thought that you’d go through some development upon finally realizing your predicament, but there he sat, corrected.

“Dr. Mao said discussions this week were for working on the project,” he said. He was surprised that you didn’t remember, you were usually very attentive in class, this problem of yours must really be wearing you down and he felt slightly guilty for that, maybe he should let off a little, surely you didn’t need him all the time, hell you barely even knew that he existed. Admitting that hurt him, he was always around you and he was surprised that you were just now noticing, but there’s no arguing with the facts.

“Right, right,” you hummed. “So, doxylamine, right?”

“Mmhmm,” he took out his worksheet and slid it over to you. You looked through it with what he assumed was amazement.

“Whoa… I guess we don’t need my noted then,” you laughed.

“The project’s easy enough, I can handle all the writing, if you want,” Jaemin says. He’d rather shoulder most of the work, you had enough to worry about as is.

“I can make the presentation then! I’ll do the physical one and arrange the PowerPoint.”

“Okay, we can do that.”

“Mmhmm, I’ll set up a google slides for us to work on together, and I’ll bring the materials for the physical model tomorrow.”

“It’s a plan.”

“Yes, right.”

Jaemin opened his laptop next to yours, opening the email you sent him for the shared slides, and you both worked on making the slides according to the rubric, he only wrote brief notes on each slide as to what they will include on them for now, he figured that he’d just add everything in later and let you make the whole thing pretty, there was at least a week to work on it anyway. The good news was that he already had the materials for the physical aspect of the project, his previous chemistry professor did a project of the same type as this one and he hadn’t used it since his group did the honors of assembling a molecule instead. He was surprised though, he knew that you were studious, but you really were putting a lot into this project, going way above the rubric. You didn’t have to go out of your way, and he was sure that part of it was to make up for the various awkward run-ins you’ve both had, but that wasn’t much of a problem to him. He was just glad that you both interacted. He couldn’t wait for those moments to just be funny memories, things to look back on in the future. In no time at all, fifty minutes passed and Seokjin signaled the end of the discussion class.

“Remember that the project is due by your final period, which is when you and your partner will present your molecule. Good luck and I’ll see you all next week.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Jaemin stood up. He wanted to say more to you, but he had to practice self-restraint, he’d see you tomorrow anyway.

Tomorrow couldn’t have come any faster. He was practically on the edge of his seat all night waiting. What would he do? What would he say? How should he dress? The only thing that separated this from a normal date was the fact that you were meeting for a science project of all things. This would be a lasting impression, he didn’t want you to think that he was an aloof person because he usually did take care of himself. It was already a red flag enough that you were treating him and not the other way around, he had to make up for that somehow.

Maybe he should bypass the plan this time, it’s not like it ever did him any good when it came to you. But it wouldn’t hurt to have an idea of how things would go, right? Everything that happened tended to be the exact opposite of what he expected, maybe some reverse psychology would work in that sense.

Keep it casual, it’s not like you were getting dinner together, this was just a science project at a Starbucks. No need to go over the top for this, even if he thought you deserved it, it wouldn’t do him well if you thought him to be uptight.

Those were only some of his many thoughts while he sat in the Starbucks. His nose was buried in his book while he waited for you. Johnny wasn’t on today, sadly, it would’ve been nice to see his reaction to you and him being there together, but it was a blessing in the end. Johnny was rather unpredictable, Jaemin noticed, he often gave in to impulse decisions and figured things out along the way. He heard the doorbell chime and he looked up.

“(Y/N),” he said your name like it was natural. It didn’t look like you noticed him, then again, maybe he did dress a little too nicely for the occasion. “Over here,” he waved his hand this time. He could say that he was proud of the way you were looking at him, a mix of shock and pleasant surprise. He rolled his sleeves up, the room inexplicably getting warmer, while you sat across from him.

“You’re early.”

“I just got here,” maybe he should’ve ordered something before you got here, the caffeine boost would’ve helped his confidence immensely, but he didn’t want to risk you thinking he was being rude for not ordering you anything. Wait, that would’ve been a great idea. He should’ve done that instead, maybe it would’ve gotten a number of points on his end.

“Oh, okay… so what can I get you? I’ll order it for you.”

“Venti black coffee with eight shots.”

“Eight?!” Your shock amused him, and he could swear that he felt his lips quirk up a bit.

“Eight,” he answered. He needed that boost if he wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of you.

“Okay,” he watched you go up to the counter and order the two drinks. Jaemin pulled out his laptop in the meantime, the slides had remained untouched since yesterday. Upon your return, you copied his movements and entered the slides yourself. “Have you added anything since yesterday?”

“No, I figured that I’d wait until today so we could discuss it,” Jaemin answers.

“Okay, cool. I found a couple of articles that we could use, let me email them to you really quick.”

“(Y/N)! Your drinks are ready,” the barista calls. You were about to get up, but Jaemin stopped you.

“I got it,” Jaemin volunteered, you’ve been doing a lot already, the least he could do was pick up the damn things for you. He walked up to the counter, grabbed the two drinks, then returned. “Did you bring the materials for the model?” He noticed you walk in without the box, so he already knew the answer, but he figured that he’d give you the benefit of the doubt. But upon your reaction, he already had the answer in mind.

“Fuck…” Jaemin only placed the coffee in front of you. Were you so preoccupied to have forgotten one of the most important aspects of the project? Apparently so.

“I have the materials in my apartment, we can just go get them there if you want,” he offers. He was certain that he still had all the necessary parts in his kit, if anything only a couple of bonds should be missing.

“Ah, that’s perfect! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to forget.”

“It’s fine, I had the materials from another class anyway.”

“That’s good, I can still put it together though! I can still do my part,” you smiled.

“Alright, my apartment is just a block away so it shouldn’t be too far,” he drinks some of his coffee.

“Good then,” you packed your things again and he grabbed his messenger bag, pulling it over his head before waiting for you to follow him. You both left the café and walked towards his apartment.

It wasn’t until you were both about to cross the street when he realized what was happening. You were coming over to his apartment. You were about to step foot in there, had he cleaned recently? He hasn’t dusted this week, but he didn’t think you to be the kind to run your hand on any surfaces, that would be ridiculous. Maybe if he diverted your attention to something else you wouldn’t think about overanalyzing his room.

“I live in the complex above the Muji there,” he points at the stationary store across the street. “Fourth floor, so right about there,” he pointed at the window closest to the edge.

“How much is it?”

“Probably $3,000 monthly. It’s because it’s in a busy area.”

“I can tell,” you said. “My apartment’s only $1,000 monthly,” you continued. So that’s how much you were paying, he had wondered that for a while. You lived on the other side of campus, which was part of the reason why he never bothered himself with following you home, simple laziness mixed with the knowledge that time spent going there would be better spent on other things. You both walked ahead of the mass of people trying to get home and got to the otherwise safely, this time he opened the door for you.

“Just so I don’t get hit by a door again,” he said teasingly. It would be better to make you feel a bit more comfortable, it must be nerve-wracking to come into someone else’s apartment for the first time, he would’ve, at least. He did, actually. When he first went to Jeno’s apartment he was afraid of accidentally pissing off the other’s roommates, who were completely out of his comfort range by all means.

“That’s probably a good idea, I probably would’ve spilled that coffee on you,” you walked in ahead of him and into the narrow lobby. Jaemin waved at the security guard and held up his keys so he knew he was a tenant there and you both entered the elevator.

“So $3,000, huh?” You looked around the clean elevator. Jaemin nodded in response. It pinged at the fourth floor and you both walked out to the end of the hallway and Jaemin opened the door.

“Come in,” he walked in first and stepped aside for you to enter. This was it, you’d see what his apartment looked like. For a second, he panicked, doing a brief survey of the first room to be sure that it didn’t look horrible, and luckily it all looked decent. You continued to stand just outside of the doorway, and Jaemin heard a small worried voice at the back of his head, did you suspect him of anything? “What’s up?”

“Nothing, sorry, uh, why don’t you just grab the materials and we can head back to Starbucks?”

“I mean, if you want,” Jaemin hums. “But it’s kind of far to be carrying metal materials.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you shook your head. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you walked in and he closed the door behind you. That was a close one. He would’ve agreed with you if you wanted to go back though, he didn’t have a problem with it. As long as you were comfortable he didn’t mind. The last thing he wanted was for you to associate him with anything negative.

“The materials are in a box over in the closet,” he nudged his head towards the door next to you. You placed your coffee on the kitchen island and walked over to the aforementioned closet, pulling it open and grabbing the needed box from the floor. While you were doing that, Jaemin took it as a chance to make any last-minute cleanups to the area. He spotted a familiar notebook on the coffee table and he quickly grabbed it before chucking it into some random cupboard. He’d prefer that you didn’t see his extensive notes on you, not today, at least. He watched you walk over to the coffee table and slowly place the box on top, he should’ve offered to move it when he had the chance.

“These are some expensive paperweights,” you laughed.

“They are,” Jaemin answered from the open kitchen.

Then, a sudden despicable plot formed in his head. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. What’s a good book without a climactic point? He looked at the bottle of NyQuil left on the kitchen counter, he had meant to put it back up days ago after lending it to Jeno when his roommate had a cold, and it had since sat on his counter. Doxylamine was an ingredient of the medication, a cruel coincidence. He wondered how quickly its effects would work.

“Want me to warm up your coffee? It got a bit cold.” The words came out before he could properly formulate a plan. This wasn’t how he wanted this chapter to end, he was acting impulsively. But what if this was the only chance you’d be so close to his grasp?

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” Was that permission?

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. His head was pounding with some mix of whatever conscious he had left versus the devious thoughts he had, but all of that were quickly overtaken by desire. You were here, sitting on his fucking couch, for god’s sake. He looked at the bottle of NyQuil in his hands, then at your coffee cup on the counter. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He opened the lid of both, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see if you were paying attention, then he poured less than half of the bottle into your cup, mixing the liquids together with a butter knife, then sealing your cup again. There was no going back now. He placed the cup in front of you and sat next to you.

Briefly, your legs brushed past each other, and again came that spark of electricity that moved through him. Did you feel the same? He fought the urge to bounce his leg, he wondered if this impromptu plan of his would work or if it would be for naught. He busied his shaking hands by pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Give me a second to look through these articles you sent me,” he looked through the email you sent him, feigning interest. He felt his breath stop while you reached for your cup, as your hands wrapped around it, he could hear his rational side telling him to stop you. To take the cup from your hands and chug it down and let this obsession end there. His conscious begged him to do so, to preserve what sanity he had left and call it day, then never speak to you again. You’d end up just like many other infatuations he’s had.

But he didn’t do anything, no, he kept his eyes trained on his computer screen while you drank the coffee. He didn’t do anything. His and your fates were sealed, and they were destined to be together now, he’d be certain of it.

Now for how long it would take. How long until you fell asleep in his arms? With a normal dosage of NyQuil, it would take about half an hour, but he must’ve given you at least three, maybe more, he wasn’t paying attention. What were the side effects of overdosage? It would take a whole bottle for it to be fatal, he knew that much, but with the amount you’d ingest if you finished your cup you’d at least have nausea, maybe some mild hallucinations, and immense drowsiness was definitely not out of the question. How long would it take?

“Oh, I’m going to have to leave before six, if that’s okay,” you said. Your cup was in your hands, resting on your knee while you looked through the PowerPoint.

“That’s fine,” he said. Maybe you’d be awake enough to make it out of the door, his rational side reasoned, maybe this wasn’t the only option. You’d get drowsy and go home to sleep it off, then he can return to his original plan and act like this horrific act never happened.

“You’re not going to ask?”

“Why would I?” It’s not like you’re going to make it out of the door. No, he shouldn’t think that way, that’s too depraved. “We have a week to do this, so we’re in no rush,” he prayed that you’d fight through the drowsiness now. What had he done? You’d hate him for life. That’s not what he wanted, he wanted you to love him the way he loved you. He wanted you to obsess over him the same way he did. He didn’t want you to harbor any hatred towards him, that would kill him inside out.

“Right,” he felt panic rise up as you drank more coffee. He should’ve told you to stop, taken the cup from you, asked to try it, and then down the whole thing.

But he didn’t.

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll bring this model home with me later then,” you finished the molecule in your hands and placed it on the table. Jaemin hurriedly chugged the rest of his coffee, suddenly feeling parched from all of the conflicting thoughts in his head. He skimmed through the abstracts of the articles, surely there must be some distraction to the guilt that grew in him.

“Thank god for the university’s access keys,” he had to stop thinking about it. He glanced at your cup, clearly still with some of the sleep-inducing mixture in it. He should take, take it now.

“Mmhmm, I guess our tuition helps with that at least.” Take the damn coffee, Jaemin.

“Have you read these?”

“I just skimmed through the abstracts, why?”

“No reason, just curious,” he swallowed harshly, his throat remaining dry.

“Please tell me that Dr. Mao is going to keep this structure and we don’t have to take it home.”

“I hope so, otherwise it would really just become a very expensive paperweight,” Jaemin placed his laptop down. Take the coffee. You held a hand to your head and Jaemin grew more concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I overslept today and I think it’s catching up to me now,” you sighed. It’s not too late, he could take the cup from you.

But he didn’t. He wanted to, he wanted to go back to his original perfect plan to woo you over like the knight in shining armor you deserved. Had he resulted to being the villain in this story? The villain that would keep you locked in his high castle? As you finished the coffee, he realized that it would appear so. The climax of this story had reached its highest point, and he could feel the falling action start to take place as you put the cup down on the table. You held a hand over your mouth to mask the yawn while you grabbed your laptop. There was no going back now, Jaemin realized, he had to see this plan through, how would he explain what you were feeling right now? How could he divert attention from the obvious? There was no way, while he watched you struggle to fight off the sleepiness, he realized this. He had become the villain.

And, truth be told, he preferred that.

It’s more fun to be the villain, after all.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” He asked you. Your hand was digging into your hair now, you were clearly having a hard time, and Jaemin fought back the deranged smile that threatened to rise, he had to at least wait for you to fall asleep, it would be rude, but he almost couldn’t help it. “Can I do anything to help?” It didn’t look like you were registering what he was saying, but that was to be expected with the amount of NyQuil you ingested. Should he say anything more? Your face was in your hands now, then you leaned sat up more, your eyes starting to dilate.

Screw it, he couldn’t resist anymore.

He reached over and stroked your hair, it was different than he had imagined, it was nothing like his fantasies. He slowly pushed your head to his chest, could you hear how fast his heart was beating? Could you feel it? This is what he imagined for months, to hold you like this, he nearly pinched himself to be sure that he wasn’t dreaming, but he knew that this was reality. He swerved off course to make this sudden decision to hold you like this, he never would have if he stuck to the original plan, or at the very least it would’ve taken longer. He leaned down to your ear and said one of many phrases he’d been longing to tell you, one that would close this chapter of this fantasy novel quite nicely.

“Sleep well, my love.”

Then he saw your eyes close, and that smile he had been holding back finally broke out while he buried his face into your neck. You were all he ever dreamed of and now you were all his. His entire life he worked to appease people, but now all of that came to fruition. He wouldn’t settle for this, he’d never do that. He will treat you like the princess you are to him, as long as you complied, of course. He sighed dreamily, all that stress was now gone. No worrying about others who fancied you, no worrying about nagging best friends or observant ones, all he had to focus on was keeping you happy, right? That’s all you needed, and surely you’d stay.

You wouldn’t have a choice.

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julieloveupstead · 3 years ago

Text

"I'm Never Leave You" - Upstead

Chapter 2

Warehouse, a bloodied Roy handcuffed to a pipe by Voight above him. He spotted her. He pointed his gun at her. Animal fury was painted on his face, pure desire for murder in his eyes. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Hailey was frightened of her Sergeant for the first time. For a moment, she runs her eyes from Roy to the Sergeant and immediately understood what was going on here. Hailey is trying to appeal to what she thought was still the remnants of a human conscience she saw in the Sergeant not so long ago, but from the moment she looked into his eyes she already knew she was at a loss, but she wanted to believe that there was still something of humanity in him, that she would succeed.

Unfortunately, it only took a split second for everything to go wrong. Voight walks over to Roy and buckles him down. Roy takes the opportunity to take the gun. Hailey screams for him to leave, barrel pointed at Voight, he repeats to put the gun down, but to no avail. Gun pointed at her, repeat three more times. Two shots. Roy's body slumps inertly to the ground. Blood everywhere. The first thoughts that come to her mind are what was the best thing she did? What did she do? Jay, after all, he's going to hate her. This will be the end. What did she do? No. No. Nope. NO. NO! Noooooo!

- Hailey. - I hear a voice in the distance, quiet and unclear. Hailey tries to focus her attention on it, but she keeps seeing this blood everywhere. A dead man. After all, she killed a man. She crossed an unacceptable line. - Hailey. - That voice again. She knows that voice, but from where, at this point, she finds it hard to connect the voice to the person. She feels cloudy in the head, and the sight before her eyes is just that blood. Voight looking at her with that demented look of his.

Jay woke up as soon as he heard Hailey quietly sobbing in her sleep he tried to rouse her gently from her sleep, so he whispered softly in her ear, but it had no effect and to tell you the truth he even felt it made it worse. Hailey started to squirm, pushing him away, but he didn't let her go, holding her in his arms the whole time. His heart was breaking at the sight of his girlfriend suffering, and it hurt even more knowing that there wasn't much he could do to help her. All he can do is be there for her every step of the way.

- 'Baby, it's all right now. I've got you. - He kept repeating softly into her ear, stroking her shoulder. He wanted to show her in every way that he was there for her, that he would never leave her no matter what fate put in front of them. - Angel, I am here. I have you. I have you. No one will hurt you anymore. I promise. - Jay kisses the top of her head without stopping whispering and keeps holding her in his arms. No, that's not possible. After all, Jay, he hates me. He can't know. - I love you. It's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere. It's all right now. I'm holding you. I will never let anyone hurt you again. - he continued in a calm tone.

Finally, Hailey opened her eyes slowly, looking around. She wasn't in a warehouse, but in her bedroom, warm, strong arms embracing her. She turned and saw the outline of a face and instead of fury-filled stares she saw green wise, calm loving and worried eyes.

- Jay - regaining control of his voice and when reality finally came to her in her eyes, Jay saw panic arise and another wave of tears, and immediately tears came to him too. He hated to see his treasure crying for even the slightest reason, he wanted to protect her at all costs, even at the cost of his life.

- Shhh Angel I'm here - he kissed Hailey on the top of her head and pulled her whole body onto his so that her head was placed against his chest, so that she could hear his heartbeat and he could embrace her whole and hold her until the end of his days. He could feel her body shaking from crying, so he hugged her tighter - Do you hear? It beats for you and because of you, and while it beats, I will do everything to protect you. No matter what, no matter who I have to go to war with, no matter what I have to do, I will be here, I will be by your side. I love you and I always will. I will never leave you. We'll figure something out, both of us. Step by step.

Jay assured his beloved to reassure her. Listening to the sure, tender voice of her man, Hailey closed her eyes and completely focused her attention on the beating of his heart, the way he soothingly whispered and the gentle kisses he placed on her head. No words were necessary for them, because what could they say in such a situation anyway. They just lay there and that was completely enough for them both to calm their battered nerves, to slow their hearts down. Hailey loved that moment when she felt like their hearts were beating in the same rhythm. The feeling of being one with someone on so many levels is something amazing, something special, something that little girls fed on fairy tale life hear about, or as grown women reading romance novels or watching romantic movies. Imagining a special love for Hailey was a springboard for what was going on at home. When her dad would come in drunk and rowdy locking himself in his safe place and reading books she would dream that this wonderful hero, this knight on a white horse would suddenly appear at her window and take her, her mum and her two brothers away. But these were just naïve dreams, only a foolish hypocrisy of reality, which after some time ended with a painful clash with reality. She would never have thought that in her life there could really be someone who would love her with all his being, accept her as she is, stay by her side when he finds out about her mostly and want to stay by her side in spite of all that, and want to protect her from every evil. And yet she's found Jay and can't believe he's her friend, her partner and still her boyfriend. For the first time in Hailey Anne Upton's life, she feels safe and really, really loved. She constantly wondered how she ever deserved such a wonderful, warm and honest man like Jay.

- Jay - Hailey spoke quietly after a long moment of silence, with an audible panic in her voice and hoarse from hours of crying.

Hailey felt no fear only of the consequences of what she had done and what might happen between her and Jay, and what was happening now at the police station, because after what had happened everything had turned upside down there. Kevin even though he was there for Kim when they were sitting outside the room yesterday, it felt like the argument that started between him and Adam at the police station the day Burgess was kidnapped has completely changed their relationship, and it's not going to be the same as it used to be. Besides, she can't imagine how she's going to turn up at work tomorrow and how she's going to work in the same place with Voight. Certainly not after what happened in that warehouse. And how is she has going to look Kim, Adam and Kevin in the eye? Damn what she has gotten hersself into.

- Yeah? - He asked, kissing Hailey's head again,bringing Hailey back from her reverie. Jay started playing with her hair, and she closed her eyes again, giving herself over to the caresses.

- What's going to happen now? - she asked in a weak voice.

- What do you mean? - Jay asked her. His watchful green eyes full of peace and love looked at her, soothing her anxious thoughts now and giving her the courage to continue.

- 'Well, Kevin and Adam are at odds and I doubt that will change any time soon. - Jay nodded, letting her know he was listening, so she could keep talking. - 'And then there's this thing with Voight and me. I... Ah... - she moved away from Jay to sit down, Jay continued to look at her tenderly, giving her his full attention. He never rushed her, always waiting patiently until she was ready. Hailey really can't express how grateful she is that she met Jay on her path and for his patience and most of all his understanding with her all these years. - I mhm after that... - Jay, seeing that she was finding it difficult to express herself, placed his hand on her thigh and drew circles on them to help her relax and so that she could throw out whatever was sitting in her head. Hailey concentrated on these movements, closed her eyes and let out the air she had been holding, and was able to start speaking again. - What I mean is... - she interrupted again. It had always been hard for her to open up sometimes even in front of her boyfriend and that made her feel bad because after all it was only Jay, and she knew that she could trust him with everything, but now she felt that every word could bring her closer to losing the man who was most important to her in the whole world. Now that was her greatest fear. But Jay proved to her every day that he would not leave her, that he accepted her fully, so holding on to that she gathered her courage and began to speak again. This time, in a more confident voice, she said what was bothering her. - How, am I supposed to come to work tomorrow? How am I supposed to look into the eyes of Kim, who deserved to look that son of a b*ch who did this to her in the eyes and show him that she is alive and that he didn't break her, that she survived this hell. - Tears began to appear in her eyes. Jay slowly rose to sit down, reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. - How am I going to look them all in the eye? How am I going to work with Voight now? Jay, what's going to happen to us? - She covered her mouth with her hand to silence the sobs that escaped from her throat.

Jay immediately pulled her to him, and she snuggled into him tightly, as if Jay was a last resort, and maybe he was. Hailey wrapped her arms around Jay's neck with her own and laid her head in the hollow of his neck and inhaled the oh so familiar, soothing scent. Jay hugged her tightly, nestling his face into the hollow of her neck, giving her kisses every so often in that spot.

They didn't know how long they lasted in such an embrace, but they didn't think to pull away from each other. Both of them felt safe only in each other's embrace and after the events of the last days, they were an anchor for each other, which meant that they did not lose touch with reality.

- 'Hailey, my Angel - he spoke in a tender voice, close to Hailey's ear, focusing her attention on him. - First of all, Hailey, you didn't do anything wrong. Roy was dangerous, incalculable, and could have really hurt you. He could have shot at you, and then I...- she felt him struggle to swallow his saliva and knew he must have imagined the situation, so Hailey hugged him tighter to keep him from thinking whatever he was thinking about now. Jay pulled Hailey away from him, so he could look at her, so he could admire her beautiful face, her gorgeous blue eyes. She was wearing his t-shirt, and she looks so beautiful, and the moonlight that was coming through the window gave such a glow that Hailey really did look like an Angel. His Angel. He loved her so much and wanted so much for her to finally be happy and for no one to hurt her anymore. He couldn't imagine life without her and knowing that someone had hurt her. Damn it, why Hailey? Why did Voight pick on her? WHY?- I want you to know that whatever happened in that warehouse is not your fault, Voight is responsible for all of this, and I promise you that none of our friends would look at you any differently than they are looking at you right now if you told them. Honey look at me - with two fingers he lifted Hailey's face, so she could look at him. Looking into those beautiful blue eyes, now reddened from hours of crying, caused his heart to break again.

Watching the most important woman in his life suffer, and he couldn't do anything about it, was like the ultimate torture that he hoped to never experience again. He felt this way when he came back from Afghanistan as a 20-year-old and his mother fell ill, and during that period he watched his mother suffer in pain and all he could do was be there for her. Even under the time he was on the front line and seeing all the destruction, the deaths of his friends and innocent people, the worst thing was this powerlessness, this realization that you can't do something to make it better, to help them. After his mother's death, he promised himself that he would never again stand by and watch someone he loved suffer, which is why he wanted to enlighten Lindsay a few years ago, to save her from suffering, but somewhere deep down he felt it wouldn't work. It was the same for Mouse, who decided to return to the army because it was the only place he felt fulfilled, needed and alive. The realization that he couldn't help his friend and that he let him go to his death haunts him to this day. And now that he has Hailey, the woman he loves more than anyone before, and he can't do anything. He can't give up, not when it comes to her. Not now that she's finally by his side, not when in his dreams instead of nightmares of what happened on the front lines he dreams of a wonderful future with her. So he can't give up and has to figure something out.

- I'm sorry Sweetheart, but at the moment I'm not able to find answers to your questions - he said, feeling tears appear in his own eyes as he saw the disappointment painting in Hailey's eyes for a split second. That sight broke him down even more. - I'm so sorry, Angel. I'm so sorry. - he said in a breaking voice. - But I know one thing for sure, and I can promise you here and now that as long as we love each other and as long as we have each other, everything will work out somehow. You will see, Angel, we will work something out. - Seeing another wave of tears running down Hailey's cheeks, he felt how much he had let her down. - 'I'm sorry Hailey, I know it's not much, but...' - Hailey interrupted his nervous chatter by placing a kiss on his lips.

- 'Jay, knowing that you're here, with me, and that you love me, means more to me than anything else you can imagine. Whatever happens, I'm not afraid of it as long as you're with me. - Hailey cupped Jay's cheeks in both hands to let him know that what she says is what she really means. - And You're right, as long as we're together, I'm sure things will somehow work out. - She wiped the tears running down her boyfriend's cheek with her thumbs.

This time it was Jay who kissed Hailey. It wasn't a brief kiss, it was a kiss assuring that they are and will be by each other's side until the end of the world and one day longer.

Because the truth is, when they're together, nothing can compare.

❁❁❁

They didn't even know when they fell asleep in each other's embrace, but they were awakened by the sound of the phone ringing.

- I think it's your Jay - Hailey called out in a sleepy voice.

- Shit, I know darling - Jay's voice after waking up was her favorite sound and if it wasn't for the awareness of the events of the last days maybe it would have been the beginning of interesting things. 'Wrap yourself up, your friend is fighting for her life, and you're thinking about stuff like this. Hailey stiffened in thought.

Hailey fell asleep resting her whole body on Jay, because just feeling the warmth of his body and hearing his heartbeat meant that she could fall asleep peacefully, and sleep went on without nightmares. She sat on the bed leaning against the headrest trying to rouse herself, she studied her boyfriend's body language. She saw Jay flexing his muscles and tried to set herself up for the worst.

- "Hmm, good. Okay, we'll be right there." - As Jay ended the call, Hailey prayed that what she was thinking about didn't come out of Jay's mouth. She didn't know what she would do if Kim... No, she can't think about that right now. Kim is strong and has someone to fight for. She's sure she'll come out of this. Hailey is sure Kim will.

- It's Kevin with the new information about Kim," he said, wiping his face with his hand, as he usually does when he's tired or overwhelmed by information and all she could think about at that moment was that the worst had happened.

- God no, no, no. - Hailey hid her face in her hands and cried. She couldn't believe it, this couldn't be happening for real. Jesus and what about Makayla, after all this little baby has already lost two moms and her biological father is in prison. She's been through so much at the age of six, it's unimaginable trauma for such a child. It's a good thing that she still had Adam, maybe the loss won't be so hard and she can grow up normally.

- Hailey, Angel, Kim is alive - Jay pulled his girlfriend in closer.

- What are you talking about? - Hailey raised her head and looked in disbelief at Jay, who had a big smile on his face.

- 'Kev just called and said Kim took the surgery well and made it through the night. He said that now Kim is in for tests and as soon as the doctors allow it will be possible to see her. - he continued enthusiastically.

- For real? - Hailey couldn't believe it. Jay nodded, and Hailey cringed again, but this time not from despair, but because of the relief she felt at hearing that her friend had survived and was still fighting. - Oh my God, it's a miracle.

- I told you everything would work out. - he said, kissing the top of her head.

They both felt a huge stone fall from their hearts with this good news. Their friend, their sister is still with them and that is the most important thing, and they know that everything will end well.

- 'Okay, give me thirty minutes, and we can go to her,' she said, pulling away from Jay, and getting out of bed. She felt like a new energy was coming into her, she wanted to go to Kim right away. However, she was stopped by arms wrapped around her, she felt herself being pulled to her chest.

- Angel, I would love to be there too, but unfortunately the bad people don't have free time. - he said and smiled slightly.

- What is it this time? - Hailey rolled her eyes, but immediately switched into cop mode. She moved away from Jay with reluctance.

- The shooting at 8709 Moonworth - Hailey only nodded, but before she left she placed a deep kiss. She was so happy, the fact that Kim had survived hell gave her hope that maybe her situation would somehow end well too.

- I love you, Jay - she whispered against Jay's lips.

- I love you, Hailey - they whispered and joined their lips together again.

Yes, everything will work out.

❁❁❁

After 30 minutes, Hailey and Jay show up at the scene of the shooting.

- What have we got? - Jay is the first to speak up, seeing Kevin's apartment building coming out.

- Two bodies that we haven't been able to identify yet. - explained Kev as they entered the building with Jay and Hailey. - The house was used for storing drugs and weapons. We found a few bags of amphetamines in the cupboards, but that still needs to be confirmed by the lab, and in the basement we found several pieces, military weapons and more guns.

- Gang meth? - Hailey asked, looking around the living room they were in.

- We think so. Voight's talking to the gang unit. They're in the back of the house.

At the mention of Sarge's name, Hailey clasped her hands together nervously, which didn't escape the attention of Jay standing next to her, who immediately moved closer to her to give her some reassurance, if only in that way. And if Kevin noticed anything, he didn't comment on it, for which Jay was grateful to his friend.

- 'Then I'll go talk to Vo... Sarge, and you guys go back to headquarters. Maybe Trudy will have some information on who owned the house, and maybe there have been previous reports. - The name of their Sergeant, couldn't pass Jay's lips, he also knew that he had given Kevin and Hailey tasks that could be done by uniforms, but he didn't want Hailey and the Sergeant to meet. He realized that they wouldn't be able to avoid it forever, but as long as Jay felt he could have control over it, he would do everything he could to make it happen as late as possible.

Hailey was grateful that Jay had taken on the responsibility of meeting the Sergeant, she knew she wouldn't have been able to face him herself. Not after what had happened, so she was relieved to follow Kevin out.

- Are you all right? - Kevin asked as we got into his car.

- Yes, why? - she didn't dare to tell Kev the truth yet, so she tried her best to control Hailey's emerging panic attack about Voight being there.

- 'Nothing, I just got the impression that you guys reacted strangely when I said Voight was in there, I probably thought. - he said in a curious voice. Again though, I slowly clenched my hand into a fist and my heart started beating faster, I could feel my breathing speeding up. Hailey closed her eyes and tried to calm down, repeating to herself that he is not here, that Voight is not able to hurt her, that she is stronger than anyone can imagine.

- You know, it's probably because of the whole situation with Kim that everyone is over-sensitive. - she said with a calm tone.

- You are probably right. I'm just glad that Kim got through the worst of it. - She only nodded at Kevin's words because I didn't trust my voice to betray that I was barely keeping myself from crying.

Fortunately, the rest of the way to the command passed in pleasant silence.

At the same time, Jay was trying not to say something inappropriate and come off as rude, but it wasn't his fault that as soon as he stepped in front of the Sergeant he felt like punching him for what his Hailey had done. It had always puzzled him how one event, one word could cause us to change our outlook on a person. It wasn't that long ago that he considered Voight to be his so to speak august authority, at one point he'd even counted on his opinion like the Latrell case, and now all Jay felt about the man standing in front of him was dislike and disgust.

- Detective Halstead, please meet Sergeant Smith from the drugs department - Voight turned to Jay, and introduced a man around 50 years old. Jay shook the Sergeant's hand. -This is one of my best men. - Hearing such a formal tone of his superior he felt like snorting, standing here by his side cost him a lot of willpower. - Jay you will be in charge of this case, I hope that you will cooperate and that there will be no problems. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. - Voight turned and began to head towards the car, and Jay, prompted by the rage he'd felt inside him ever since he found out what this man had done to Hailey, said goodbye to Sergeant Smith with a brief nod and followed Voight.

- 'You want something from me, Jay? - Voight spoke up without turning to Jay. Well, yes, the brunet could have guessed that the older man would realize that he was following him.

- I want you to know that I know what you did. - Jay didn't feel like playing the under card, so he got straight to the point. Voight finally turned his front to Jay and smiled at him as if he'd expected it.

- But I didn't do anything - the confidence with which Voight spoke terrified Jay. The man he was looking at now was not the same man he had known for almost 9 years. As the flaps fall from Jay's eyes, and he now sees the real Sergeant he always was. Now it came to him what a monster he had given his loyalty to. After all, Voight didn't even feel remorse, and no guilt in his eyes. - And how's Hailey doing there, Jay? - What a son of a b*ch. Jay barely managed to stop himself from punching the man he'd considered some sort of authority figure for years, and now all he feels is rage and disbelief that he didn't see who he really is sooner.

- Just try to get close to her Son of a b*ch- threatened Jay, approaching the grey-haired man so that only he could hear.

- Because what are you going to do to me? - Jay knew Voight was testing him on how far he would go for her. Voight's problem, though, was that he was overconfident and the fact that he brought up an even more clever detective.

- 'I won't have to do anything, I'll just remind you that you're in the swamp and if you do something that gets Hailey in trouble because of you then Hailey has a lot of people around her who love her and who are ready to pull her out and you,' he stabbed a finger at Voight, 'And you don't have anyone left Hank and that can only be due to yourself. - And without waiting for any response from the Sergeant, he walked away.

Jay knows that Voight is able to find people who owe him a favor, and maybe they will be able to help him, but Jay also knew something else, that there are more people who Voight got under his skin and after so many years of work he has more than one thing to say, and if Jay had problems because of that, it would be nothing. The most important thing for Jay was that Hailey not suffer anymore because of anyone.

#upstead fic #upstead #upstead fanfiction #jay x hailey #jay halstead #hailey upton

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

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We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings: Here be smut, my loves. Minors be gone, because it is explicit. First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person. I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and @hnt-escape If you want on my tag list, tell me. :)

I waited a week. A week and a half. And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book. I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply. You got this.

Hope? Maybe? Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight? Have dinner? A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up. You don’t owe me any explanations. But please respect me enough not to ghost me. You’re not interested in me, that’s fine. But don’t leave me dangling. You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right. What’s your address?

“Shit. Shit. What have I done?” I whispered as I typed it to him.

About five away. K?

Yeah. Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up. Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard. I waved at him, half heartedly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.” He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was guarded. OK. Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No. I, uh.” He looked at the ground between our feet. It was more dirt than grass. “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways. “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.” He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him. “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time. And I mean that. But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to. I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded. “No. I’m talking about…less than a year ago. Some friends and I went on a mission. We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…” He’s breathing a little heavier, now. Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.

“People died.” He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt. “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed. If I hadn’t taken that shot. If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”

He steps forward and takes my hands in his. They’re clammy, shaking. “The mail you saw, it was a reminder. My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy. And she’s right.”

I try to find words. I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.” He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away. “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me. His lips are hot. When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?” His voice is incredulous. There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out. Why would you want me?

I shook my head. “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off? Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best. You see that, right?” There’s a desperate edge.

I shake my head. Everything that can possibly hurt does. I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.

He adjusts his hat. “No, you don’t. I love your books, but they are fairy tales. You can’t make a good man out of a monster. It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation. It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go. How I know I can’t fix this. “Don’t bother blocking my number.” I say, as I turn on my heel. “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around. But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number. I can’t. I focus on work. My job that lets me eat work. My book. My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again. It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous. I didn’t even know him that long, but the loss of him hurt. It made the story feel pointless. What right did I have to sell these lies? To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working. I’d get over it. I had to. It’s not like I’d built anything with him. I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about. The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues. And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy. He was in the home security section.

I could sneak by. He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his. I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled. I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot. Spun like a top. Settled right against his toe. I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes. His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.

“Hey.” I said, and then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came. I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey. Wait a second.”

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas. “Um…your faucet break?” And then he winced. “I mean, obviously. Um.” He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately. He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old. I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.” I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it. I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.” His dark eyes study my face. Sad. A little desperate. For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No. I got it.” I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number? If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container. “Go back to your project, Frankie. I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence. I certainly used every one I could.

Two hours later, I get a text.

Frankie: How did it go?

I want to sob. Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me: I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink. Who needs a sink in the kitchen? A total waste.

Frankie: The offer is still open?

Me: How did you know? Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie: No. I don’t think that at all.

Frankie: Let me help? Please?

Me: Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.

Frankie: OMW.

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza. It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink. “You did a good job. I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK. I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight. I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?” I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly. Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.” He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink. He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair. He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza. I don’t know what to say.

“It’s a nice apartment.” He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job. It works.” I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. I knew this would be bad. Here he is, sitting a few inches away. I could touch him, but I’m not allowed. It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it. To feel his fingers wrap around mine. To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head. Wads up his napkin. Puts his plate in the sink. Locates the trash. Such a good guest.

“I shouldn’t have come. But I wanted to see you.” He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile. “You would have been ok.”

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box. Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me? I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to. Where do you keep these?” I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.

“But why? Why were you happy to help? Why did you want to see me? You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out. “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently. “Hush.” I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.

“You asked me a question, awhile back.” I muzzle his hand. “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”

“You asked me if I wanted you. And I do. Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me. “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing. “I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I lay down to sleep. I miss you when I’m driving.” And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth. “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back. I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why? Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again. I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again. That’s cruel. I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine. Just push it aside until you trust me. Or until it matters. I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done. I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.” I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop. He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on. His fingers ghost over my hips. Grip them gently. Pulls me between his thighs. Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close. His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting. Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man. I want to tell him. But I wait. I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

“I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes. And he leans close, and he kisses me again. The last kisses were loving. This kiss is passionate. Deep. So full of longing I could cry. I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside. I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor. The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment. “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him. “Show me the way.”

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle. I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was. I could still say no. I could slow things down, I could be sensible.

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him. Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me. “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom. Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in. His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt. I pull back and tug at his shirt. “Off.” I command, and he grins and sheds it. My shirt and my bra join it on the floor. I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest. I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again. His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands. I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck. He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak. His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place. Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him. He lets me go and pushes me gently. I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?” He asks, one knee on the bed. “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head. “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile. He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me. He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me. He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me. It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me. “So wet.” He whispers, kissing my temple. “So soft.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “So hot.” And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure. “I want to taste you, sweetheart. I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod. I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise? He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit. He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me. He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth. As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself. His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot. The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.

He comes up to kneel between by thighs. His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.

“Are you sure? Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you. Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh. He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper. He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting. I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful. Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine. I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me. “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “You feel like heaven. Please…fuck me, honey. Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up. With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home. I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”

“Don’t think. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want to do…” He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss. “Just let go.”

And I do. I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last. He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful. I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release. I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me. I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer. He tried to shift off, but I cling to him. I welcome his weight. His strength.

I don’t want to let go. I never want to let him go.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #SMUT #My Fic

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dameafterdark · 4 years ago

Text

Fanning the Flames [Roy Mustang x Black Femme Reader]

CW: workplace sex, oral sex, vaginal penetration, blow job, body worship, pubic hair, making out, light femdom, tickling, enthusiastic consent, boss/employee relationship, semi-public sex, porn with plot, BBW reader

WARNING! The contents of this fic are NSFW! Read at your own risk!

word count: 5769

summary: After transferring to Central Command, you’re determined not to let a certain smooth-talking colonel distract you from your job duties.

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

You never could have imagined meeting a man like him when you walked through the doors of Central Command. But then again, trivial things like infatuation and love making were the last thing on your mind. Bright eyed and eager to impress, what mattered most to you were your ambitions. You didn’t have time to fool around with romance; a cushy job in Central was everything you could have hoped for as a fairly new recruit. And besides, the higher ups didn’t look too kindly upon fraternizing.

You had heard of the twenty-something aspiring general long before you sent in your letter of acceptance, but didn't think much of him. You learned long ago not to get involved with military gossip, especially the kind that involved sleazeballs like him. You know, the type of man that flirted with anything on two legs with a pretty face. You barely liked guys on a good day, so you were certain you’d have no trouble rejecting his advances. Lay low and work hard was the motto you repeated to yourself every morning as you ironed your uniform.

Unfortunately, your name was on everyone’s lips before you had the chance to introduce yourself. It couldn’t have been avoided, and you were naive to think it could. Being the only non-native Amestrian in the Central forces was mostly to blame, but you figured your looks also had something to do with your sudden popularity. After all, you were below average height, and your round curves rivaled the thin waifish figures of most Amestrian women. It definitely wasn’t the “ideal” body of a soldier, but that never stopped you in the past. Your brown skin, head full of tight curls, and full lips were impossible for others to ignore. You demanded attention whenever you entered a room, whether you wanted it or not.

And as soon as the two of you made acquaintances, you knew something was bound to happen eventually.

From the moment he uttered that first sultry “Hello” and took your gloved hand in his, kissing the back of it like he was some sort of prince out of a fairy tale, your heart decided on its feelings faster than your brain could process. He pushed the knife in deeper with a little coy smirk that made your breath hitch and your stomach tighten.

“(Y/N), at your service,” you stated, doing your best to hide the tremor in your voice. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Colonel Mustang.”

“Please,” he said as he let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving your own. “Call me Roy.”

Those four little words sparked the first ember, and from then on you walked with fire in your chest and heat pressed against your cheeks. And no matter how often you dampened those flames, they always reignited into an inferno.

You weren't the one to give into your primal urges, though. You were a professional, for God’s sake, and after clawing your way up through the ranks you’d be damned to throw away years of hard work for a pair of bedroom eyes. Especially when so many others only saw your job offer as an Affirmative Action-esque handout.

It’s not worth it, you’d mumble under your breath while sorting through piles of paperwork, doing your best to avoid meeting the colonel’s gaze as he sat across the room from you. Knowing what might transpire if you did. For weeks you daydreamed about making that connection with those steely grey eyes that followed your shapely figure wherever you walked, most likely imagining what was underneath. Truthfully, you wanted him to want you. You desired to be desired by the man that tossed out flirtatious remarks right after another, remarks you pretended to hate yet secretly made you giddy. Steely eyed with a boyish charm, he was 100% your type. And you had no idea what to do about it.

At first, you resisted him under the pretense of “work professionalism” and your “commitment to duty”. Sure, you'd play with him a little every now and then just to watch him squirm. Pursing your lips in the shape of a kiss whenever you caught him staring, bending over with the right side showing after “accidentally” dropping something in front of him, giving him a peek at the black skin tight crop top you wore in lieu of a bra whenever you stretched your arms.

And he'd respond by taking every opportunity to get close to you. Like placing a hand on your waist whenever he moved past you and letting it linger a few seconds longer than it should have, or coming up behind you to whisper something in your ear until goosebumps lined your spine.

“Your uniform is looking pristine today, (Y/N),” he complimented you one day after you dropped off another pile of urgent documents on his desk. “But I know something that will look better on you.”

You rolled your eyes in response, but decided to humor him.

“And what would that be, sir?”

“Me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your leave. Sure, it was predictable, but it was earnest, and the more desperate he got the more it amused you.

It was all in good fun, at least in the beginning. But after the first couple months, you could sense his growing agitation as each day passed. His movements became strained, his eyes hungrier, his muscles more tense. One day, as you sat at the edge of his desk with your ass just inches away from his hand, you could visibly see him clench his fist as if fighting against an insatiable urge. The sight gave you a rush of power unlike any other.

By the end of your three month mark, the entire department was making bets on when the two of you would finally hook up. Which became a nuisance in the eyes of one person in particular.

That’s right, it wasn’t just your position you had to worry about. Although most of the other military members were quite welcoming to you on that first day, First Lieutenant Hawkeye was the exception. She gave meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill”. Sure, you pretended not to notice the daggers she shot in your direction every time you dared to banter with the roguishly handsome colonel, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. However, you were no stranger to workplace rivalry, especially in the military. No blondie was going to run you out, not after you worked your ass off to get there.

All of your resolve, however, was put to the test one fateful Friday evening.

Central Command was nearly empty. The rest of the officers had gone home for the day (or were sent home, in Hawkeye’s case, but you didn’t find that out until much later). Apart from a few stragglers hanging around in the hallways, you were pretty much the only one left… apart from him, of course. You’d only been there for a few months, so you had taken every opportunity to build your reputation as a workaholic, refusing to go home unless ordered to. You were hoping it would show your diligence and dedication to the right people. You could practically taste the promotion, you just had to hang in there a little longer. If you could resist the colonel for another few months, you’d be a shoe in. You just knew it.

You headed towards his office to drop off one last pile of paperwork. One he was certain to ignore until the following week, but at least it would’ve been out of your hands and his responsibility. You gave the door a quiet, yet firm knock with the back of your knuckles and waited for permission to enter.

“Come in,” he crooned, his voice sounding more alluring than authoritative.

You opened the door slowly, clutching the thick pile against your chest before heading inside. When it closed behind you, you clicked your ankles together and gave your colonel a firm salute.

“At ease,” He said off-handedly, placing the file he had in hand onto his desk. You heard him crunching on something, most likely one of those peppermints he always kept by the phone. He focused his rigid eyes onto you, clasping his hands together to form a small tent for his chin to rest on.

“The paperwork you requested, sir,” You gave a staunch reply, hoping to hide the nervous butterflies that suddenly began to flutter about in your belly. Ah, what was it about that look in his eye that made you feel so skittish? It wasn’t so intimidating when there were people around, but now that you were finally alone...

“I told you, there’s no need for these formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“With all due respect, this was how I was trained. Sir,” You put extra emphasis on that last title and flashed him a cheeky grin, knowing how much he loved hearing you call him that. It did something to you, seeing his breath hitch and his grip tighten. If he was attempting to hide his arousal, he was doing a pretty shoddy job.

“Were you also trained to put in 12 hour days without clearance?”

Welp. He got you there. So much for all that overtime pay. Not like it would've been approved by HR, anyway.

“...No, sir. But you asked to have these forms done by the end of the week, and I promised to follow through.”

The colonel raised an eyebrow in amusement, not bothering to show restraint as he looked you up and down. The way his eyes were devouring you was enough to make you question all your morals.

“Or maybe you were just looking for an excuse to get me alone.”

You felt your face heat up at his comment, which only got worse when he flashed that usual shit eating grin of his.

“And what if I was?”

“Then I’d forbid you from working so hard and offer to take you out instead.”

You blinked a few times in disbelief, unsure how to interpret his words.

“...What?”

“You’re still pretty new to Central, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, I doubt you’ve gotten the chance to really explore the city. I could be your tour guide.”

“Are you…?”

“Asking you out? Affirmative.”

Your lips parted in shock, then formed into a grin as the corners of your lips crept up.

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate, colonel?”

“It could be. But only if you wanted that.”

“Sir.”

“Please, (Y/N), I said call me Roy. We’re close enough now, aren’t we?”

“...Roy,” his first name was unfamiliar on your tongue, yet rolled off like smooth silk. It felt odd to call your superior out of his title, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you.

“Yes?”

“Your offer is tempting, but I’ll have to decline. I can’t risk losing my position.”

“Who has to know?”

“People talk, you know.”

“Then let's give them something to talk about.”

It was corny, but genuine. You could tell he was really trying, perhaps as an attempt to live up to his womanizer reputation. It made you wonder if that was all an act.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you come here and find out.”

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have hesitated to obey a command from your superior. But hearing him toss aside the suggestive comments for a more direct method of flirting had taken your head for a spin. After months of playful teasing that usually led to nowhere, you suddenly found yourself on a direct course to somewhere.

It was foolish to fall for a man like him, but there wasn’t a single thing stopping you from taking the plunge. You were about to dive in headfirst without bothering to take a breath.

“Alright, then. I guess I’ll have to come to you.”

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back so he could come round the desk and make his way towards you. Your heartbeat steadily increased the closer he got, pounding against your rib cage until it felt like you’d explode. In just a few short seconds, the colonel’s face was inches away from your own and you could practically smell the peppermint candy he had been sucking on just moments ago. You didn’t realize that you’d backed up against the wall until his right arm was suddenly beside your head. He leaned in close until you could smell of his expensive cologne wafting in the air. It reminded you of your dad’s aftershave, with hints of sandalwood and bergamot.

You’d never been so close to the colonel before and hadn’t realized how much height he had on you. He wasn’t anywhere close to being six feet, but you had always been on the shorter side, and the confidence oozing from his aura was making you feel three inches tall.

“(Y/N),” he said with a stern tone. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to give me your honest answer.”

“Sure.”

“That’s an order.”

“... Yes, sir.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes boring holes into you as you waited with stalled breath for him to go on. A few moments passed; you noticed part of his face twitch before he took a big gulp.

Was Roy Mustang… nervous?

“Do you…” He finally spit out after several long seconds. “Do you… want this to go any further?”

You stood there quietly for a moment, wondering if you’d do permanent damage to his ego if you toyed with him any longer. You decided on a mix of genuine honesty and playful taunting, just to keep him on his toes.

“What kind of woman do you take me for, Roy?” you teased, crossing your arms while donning an amused smirk.

“A phenomenal one,” he half-whispered. “One I’d be honored to know more intimately.”

“And once you’ve known me?” you said, meeting his famished gaze. “What will happen?”

“Whatever you want. I could give you space. I could never give you space again. It’s your choice.”

“My superior has handed me the reins,” you goaded gleefully. “What will our colleagues think when they hear of this?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” he growled with an unfamiliar sense of urgency. “If you want this… whatever this is, to end here, just say the word and I’ll obey without question. This will never happen again, and everything will go back to the way it was.”

You fell silent, your smile fading away as the conversation began to fall out of your favor.

“But,” he continued, letting out a sharp exhale. “...If you’ll have me. We could m-”

You silenced him with a kiss on the lips, one that left him red faced and dazed. It was a risky move, but one you were more than willing to take. You pulled away after a few seconds and held back a chuckle when you saw his shocked expression; certainly, those long months spent building up tension had paid off. Armed with a silver tongued response, you let your words sink into him like teeth in supple skin. You leaned in close until your breath wisped across his ear.

“Does that answer your question?”

He stared at you with wide eyes and mouth agape for a few moments before pulling you into his embrace once more, kissing you deeply.

His kiss was ravenous, but his hands rivaled that hunger, taking in palmfuls of you as much as he could with all those layers of uniform covering your body. You felt his tongue against your own and relished the sweet peppermint flavor while strong hands slid under the fabric of your outerwear, causing your back to arch further into his grasp. You felt his hands on your back and then again on your hips, groping every curve until his appetite was satiated.

Desperate to get closer, he suddenly pushed you against the wall and grabbed the backs of your thighs as he prepared to lift you up. You let out a tiny yelp a little too late, a weak attempt to warn him of your weight, but your words failed to reach his ears and soon you found yourself in the arms of the Flame Alchemist. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his hands rested comfortably on your ass, cradling each cheek in his wide palms. You looked down, realizing that your concern for his strength was unfounded. It was as if he was carrying a basket of feathers; there wasn’t any sign of strain to be found in his expression. Your anxiety returned to passion while your hands found their way into the jet black fields of his hair. You found yourself grabbing fistfuls of it as you kissed him deeper and deeper, smiling against his lips every time he moaned from the action.

Abruptly, he pulled away, eyes soft with desire and longing. You opened your mouth to speak, but he silenced you with another wet kiss before carrying you towards the burgundy couch on the other side of the room.

He laid you down carefully on the velvet cushions, as if you were made of delicate porcelain. Your uniform was already in shambles; the hem of your top coat had ridden up, exposing your disheveled black undershirt and your lack of a bra, and your outer apron was practically on backwards. He took in the sight for a moment; his eyes lost in a lustful haze before finally doing something about it. He dug his fingers under the waistband of your pants in search of the buckle, causing you to let out a surprised squeal right before bursting into giggles.

“Stahahap!” You weakly batted his hands away. “It tickles!”

You were doomed as soon as the words escaped your lips. With the narrowing of his eyes and a mischievous grin, he placed his fingers in the same spot you just pushed him away from and dug into your belly with a gentle, yet maddening touch.

“Ticklish?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You would’ve spat back a retort had you not been laughing so hard. Feeling him wriggle around in such a sensitive area was more than you could handle at the moment.

“Aaaaah! Roy!! Nooohoho!”

“Ah, now she calls me Roy. Who knew all I had to do to get you to obey me was to tickle you.”

“Nonononono- AAAH!”

Your little outburst was due to him raking his nails down the length of your now-exposed sides, which made you arch your back and push yourself further into his grasp once again. He quit the unbearable wriggling, trading them for soft and gentle strokes, but even those were enough to make you squirm. Your laughs quieted down to muted giggles, ones you tried to mask by covering your mouth with both hands. He took care of that swiftly, taking both wrists into one of his big hands and pinning them above your head. You could feel the heat radiating from his palm, and it made you sweat even more.

“There will be none of that,” He said with an amused smile, looking you up and down as you laid there at his total mercy. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you quietly thanked whatever deity was out there for giving you so much melanin.

“Aaahaha… pleeease…” You half-heartedly begged, not for his hands to leave your skin but to continue touching the rest of you.

His free hand trailed up your side, purposefully tickling your bronze skin every inch of the way up until it reached your chest. Now only protected by a thin layer of dark cotton, he began to caress one of your budding nipples as it poked through the fabric of your undershirt. You let out a small moan, unable to hold yourself back. He gave the same attention to your other nipple, flicking the swollen tip until you began to whine. The gentle stimulation was enough to drive you wild, despite the fact that he had barely touched you.

“Why don’t we remove this troublesome uniform so I can find your other sensitive spots?” He cooed, eager to continue his exploration of your body. He released your wrists momentarily and waited for you to undress. You rolled your eyes but obliged, pulling off your unbuttoned top coat and white gloves while he got to work on his own clothes. You scoffed at him as he fumbled around with his own gloves and pants; you assumed the colonel would be a pro by now, with all the “experience” he bragged about having with the ladies, but seeing him awkwardly stumble around like a preteen about to lose his virginity was enough to make you laugh out loud. He put an end to it quickly, however, with another scurry of fingers up your sides. You shrieked again, curling up into yourself to get away from those torturous touches.

“How dare you mock your superior,” he joked, finally managing to undo his belt buckle. His pants slid off unceremoniously; he kicked them across the room and flinched when they landed on an expensive vase, subsequently knocking it over and shattering into pieces. You covered your mouth again, failing to hide another laugh. However, one look at his dejected expression made you regret poking fun at him.

“This is not exactly how I imagined this going,” He mumbled, furrowing his brows in frustration.

“It’s alright. It’s cute.”

“How dare you call your superior officer cute. I should punish you for that.”

“You’re such a big baby. Stop whining and touch me already.”

“Look who’s giving orders now.”

“Shut up and do as you’re told.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” he teased as he leaned forward, pulling your pants down your thick legs and tossing them aside, this time with a bit more care so as not to break any other valuables in the room. All that was left were your black lace panties and matching undershirt.

He unbuttoned his top coat, removed his white undershirt, and placed both of them on the floor beside the couch, and finally it was your turn to admire his form. You knew the Flame Alchemist was strong after fighting in two different wars, but you had never gotten the chance to see his body in its full glory without the layers of his uniform hiding it away. The muscles in his arms bulged with every movement, complemented by thick veins that ran from the back of his hands to his forearms. He must have been committed to his core workouts as well; he had a well defined six pack that rose and fell with each haggard breath he took. It was enough to make you go feral. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to caress his milky pale skin, which flinched at the sudden contact. It was warm beneath your fingertips, and after a taste you wanted more.

It would have to wait, though, for he was a gentleman and wouldn’t dare come before his lady.

He crouched down and planted a gentle kiss on your stomach as he began his worship of you. Your skin quivered from the tender gesture and you struggled to hold back another tittered reaction for fear of ruining the moment. Biting your lip failed to stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat as he kissed, licked, and sucked every inch of your exposed belly. He flittered his lips along your sides, moving from waist to navel until his tongue dipped into your belly button. Each subtle movement sent electric currents throughout your body, filling you with pleasure as he adored every centimeter of your seldom touched skin.

Moving downwards, his lips grazed your thigh crease as they continued their descent, but when he went to spread your legs you grabbed his shoulders to stop him. He looked up, brows furrowed with worry at your tense expression.

“Wait,” you said as insecurity overcame you. “I don’t… like how I look down there.”

He said nothing, his gaze returning to the empty space between your thighs that he planned to fill himself. He rubbed the tops of your legs with the lightest pressure, making you writhe in place. He looked up at you again with puppy dog eyes, begging for you to let him in.

“May I?”

You hesitated, but nodded in response. He slowly pushed your legs apart, and suddenly you felt more exposed than ever before. The scars that dotted your pantyline were front and center, the ugly browns and bumpy red ridges garnering all the attention from your colonel. Your pubic hair was wild and unkempt, so much that he’d have to sift through the strands like a man on a safari. Surely, seeing these scars, along with the state of your pubic hair, had turned him off completely.

“It’s just… been a while,” you continued your lament. “A long while.”

Still saying nothing, he leaned forward and surprised you with more gentle pecks directly on the scarred skin you had spent years hiding away from the light. He added his tongue, pulling your thin lace panties to the side and carefully spreading your lips so he could begin to feast. That first lick sent your mind soaring to the heavens, causing your hands to clutch the stiff fabric of the couch for leverage. The space between your legs increased as you opened yourself to him, allowing him access to your seldom shared treasure. Your insecurities quickly faded into nothing, and you surrendered to him body and mind.

Admittedly, it took awhile for you to cum. Longer than you wished. But he was dedicated to your pleasure, keeping his face planted between your thighs through every guttural moan or sudden thrash. You made sure to let him know he was doing the job well, your moans growing louder whenever he licked your clit in just the right way. Alternating between sucking and flicking, he finally found the rhythm that suited you best after several long minutes of trial and error. He kept going, refusing to change his pattern until he heard those magic words.

“I’m gonna come,” you cry out in a breathy voice. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna come I’m gonna-”

An explosion of stars in your peripheral, plus the involuntary curling of your toes, told him all he needed to know. Waves of pleasure washed over your body as your mind went fuzzy, like television screens after a long day’s broadcast. Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and upon opening your eyes you were greeted by a victorious smirk from your baby-faced superior. He leaned his cheek against your thigh, lazily kissing along your path of scars until he reached your knees.

“You’re amazing,” he uttered in between smooches. His fingers traced constellations in your skin, making you flinch now and then from the ticklish sensations. You tried to grab his hands, but he was faster, and made sure to take advantage of your vulnerability and increased sensitivity by tickling your hips until you screamed.

“And you’re a menace!” You cried out, playfully slapping his cheeks while he laughed at your expense.

Once you regained logical thought, you pushed yourself up and faced your superior officer head on. He had given you a taste of pleasure, but you craved more. You wanted him inside you, and you wanted him your way. It was time for Roy Mustang to take orders.

“Lay down,” You commanded, a sudden authoritativeness washing over you. Roy seemed just as shocked as you, but followed your command willingly. He laid back on the couch across strewn cushions and scattered pillows, allowing you to take full reign over him. He wasn't moving fast enough to your liking, so you pushed him down and wrapped your hand around his throat with enough pressure to hold him in place without affecting his breathing. You kept your thumb and forefinger in the shape of a V, careful not to press down too hard too quickly. Your fingers rested comfortably on the sides of his neck as he looked at you with eyes full of affection.

“(Y/N), I never took you as an aggressive one,” He teased, showing no signs of fighting back.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Roy,” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and caressed his freshly shaven face as he watched you, holding back from acting on his arousal.

“Well, I’d certainly love to find out.”

You released him from your grasp and carefully stood up on the unstable cushions, lifting your undershirt over your head and sliding your panties down until you were stark naked. Stark naked, in front of your superior officer, who was gaping at you like he’d just discovered the eighth wonder of the world. You crawled on top of him, seizing the waistband of his own briefs before yanking them off unceremoniously. They were discarded next to the couch with the rest of the wrinkled pieces of your uniforms.

Finally, you saw his member in all its glory. It was pale, with a hint of rosy hue, and exactly the right shape for your preferences. If you had to guess, it was at least 8 inches erect. He’d teased you with his dickprint for those long months, aware of how its size and girth demanded your attention every time you were lucky enough to sit next to him in a meeting. How long had you yearned to feel it for yourself?

You took his rock hard penis into your hand, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth before taking it in. You licked the tip with a flicker of your tongue, smiling to yourself when you saw him writhe where he laid. You wrapped your mouth around him as he cried out in pleasure, finally giving him the relief he desired. Your head began to bob up and down as your tongue licked the entirety of his member. You felt it twitch in your mouth every so often as he began to pulsate, grunting every time the tip hit the back of your throat. You suppressed the urge to gag, slowing down whenever that sick feeling arose, then returned to the same deliberate rhythm when the feeling passed. You could tell the ebb and flow was driving him mad. It was time to give him more.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked, ready to go all the way.

He nodded, reaching over the side of the couch in search of his pants. He fumbled around for a bit, letting out a frustrated curse every once in a while before he found what he was looking for. He ripped off the plastic wrapping and pinched the tip as he slid it down over his painfully erect penis.

When he was ready, you climbed on top and spread your legs.

“Do you want me?” you said, pressing the tip of his head into your vagina. He let out a groan and pushed his hips upward, desperate to get deeper inside of you.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“How badly do you want me?”

“I want you so bad,” his pleas became more urgent, almost turning to whimpers. “Please, let me feel you.”

You obliged, taking him into you. You were still quite wet from his masterful oral skills, so his member slid inside easily without much discomfort. The cry of pleasure that came from him almost caused you to stop in place. You lifted yourself up, then back down again, your cheeks making a smacking sound as they slammed against his thighs.

“Fuck,” he sighed with eyes closed, grunting with every long stroke. “You feel so good.”

You silently agree as your body rises and falls in a steady pattern. He feels so good, so unbelievably good inside you, and all you wanted in that moment was to make him feel as good as you did. You bounced around, testing out different angles to see which gave the best reactions, then settled on one and sped up your strokes.

“Tell me you love it,” you demanded, dripping with sweat, seeking affirmation of a job well done.

“I love it. I need it. Please, give me more.”

You could feel him getting close. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching your hips for dear life as you rode him into dawn and let out more than a few moans of your own.

Finally, he reached his peak. You could feel his warm cum bursting inside you, protected only by the thin lubricated condom. You sat there for some time, delighting in the random pumps and twitches as he continued to burst inside you.

Exhaustion finally hit, and when he pulled you into an embrace you didn’t bother protesting. The two of you laid there for however long, lost in a world of ecstasy. One hand was wrapped around your shoulder while the other stroked your wild curls. You closed your eyes and melted into him, making sure to enjoy the moment as much as possible before it was over.

“Roy,” you spoke up after a long bout of silence. “What happens now?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, continuing to caress your frazzled curls and rubbing the back of your neck every now and then. Seemingly lost in thought.

“I told you,” he spoke up after some time. “You call the shots.”

You clenched your fist as it rested against his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, unwilling to let the excitement go.

“I want more of this. I want more of you.”

He responded by cupping your cheek in one hand, pulling it towards his own face so he could address you properly. For once, you felt shy as you made eye contact with your colonel.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Uh, nothing. I have to tend to my garden, but that won’t take long.”

“Let’s do dinner at 7. Then I’ll tend to your garden afterward.”

He was truly something else. You scoffed at his ridiculous innuendo, gently backhanding him for daring to be so cheesy at such a time. He simply smiled back, pulling you in closer so he could kiss you again, and again, and again.

Work, promotions, envious colleagues… all of that could wait. Right now, you had everything you wanted. You’d figure the rest out later.

After all, you were a phenomenal woman.

#fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #roy mustang x reader #roy mustang #black reader #black femme reader #reader insert #n/s/f/w #please let me know if i forgot to tag anything!#my first smut #an asexual wrote this please be kind lolol #fmab

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

Tag List

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@chasingeverybreakingwave

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@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

----------------

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

--------------

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction smut #doppelganger

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laws-yellow-submarine · 3 years ago

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Ok @mysticaltigersorceress let's do this lol, forewarning that this is very much just word vomit at this point and I'm very tired and semi-coherent so if anyone reads this and it doesn't make sense or seems all over the place: you're right!

So like, I mentioned this morning that my Driving To Work Thoughts™ were about Hazel's perception of beauty and how that applies to herself and junk, so I will now share those thoughts in the least spoilery way that I can lmfao

Hazel and Luffy both see "beauty" as a sort of title or a type of person, or something I'm tired and explaining is HARD but we see it in canon when Alvida reappears after eating her devil fruit (Luffy calls her "a beauty" but he doesn't seem to consider her "beautiful", which is weird to explain but makes sense if you don't think about it)

Hazel, having read a lot of stories over the years, can see beauty in certain traits (hard-working, kind, etc. All those fairy tale princess traits lol). For example: Makino doesn't display ideal beauty (she's not like stunningly gorgeous) but she is Hazel's only real example growing up of what a "pretty girl" looks like: someone feminine and clean and not necessarily slim but like, no hard lines (muscle, for example). So in Hazel's opinion, she is not a "pretty girl".

Now granted, Hazel also isn't the type to feel self-conscious about this. She grew up with almost zero feminine influence, she had Garp as a grandfather, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy as her childhood companions, and the mountain bandits plus Dadan as sort of caretakers; beauty just didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and she would've been the only one who could've cared about it in the first place (Makino did her best to encourage "girliness" when she could, but Hazel has never felt "pretty")

So now as an adult, Hazel isn't overly concerned about beauty, but applying the concept to herself feels...uncomfortable. When she and Ace started dating as teens she figured appearance didn't play a part in it, they were extremely close friends close in age who'd grown up together, she’d read stories with similar relationship structures, it just made logical sense (cause that's a recipe for a spicy romance lmfao). When Sanji fawns over her at first she doesn't know how to react, but seeing him fawn over Nami (who IS a "pretty girl") and every other woman they meet makes Hazel feel more confident that it's just a Sanji thing, and nothing to actually do with her.

None of this is true of course, but she literally can't even picture herself as being "pretty" or "beautiful". She could have beautiful features but she's not a "pretty girl". But that doesn't mean she doesn't want to be. Again, she's read all those fairy tales, she's imagined herself as the heroine in more than one story, and they all have one thing in common: they were undeniably beautiful.

There's a part coming up that I want to show but tbh idk how I'll make it fit yet, or if I'll end up having to cut it, but in chapter 9 Nami was in charge of getting clothes for the both of them. She knows Hazel's style is more practical, so she stuck to things like shorts and t-shirts and tank tops and jeans, while keeping the more feminine styles for herself. But when she's showing Hazel what she bought, there's a dress that catches her eye and Hazel gravitates to it. Nami didn't intend for it to be hers, but once she sees Hazel looking at it (specifically the way she's looking at it) Nami decides that it's hers. Hazel tries to protest since she'll never get a chance to wear it ("and it'll probably look silly on me anyway!") but Nami insists and says she'll make sure to find a time for them to get dressed up (a prospect which both terrifies and excites Hazel lol). She doesn't get a chance to wear it for a LONG time though lol

By the time Hazel does get to dress up, a lot has happened that actually does make her feel self-conscious about her appearance (and it only gets worse from there lol technically I've already spoiled what happens on this blog since I talked about it before I committed to writing Together With Fruit, I'm too lazy to go find and delete the posts lmfao). Putting the dress on, getting dolled up by Nami and Robin, all just makes her feel out of place, like a kid playing dress up - not at all like a princess in a fairy tale. But she goes out anyway and has a good time and just maybe the person she's with helps her feel...pretty.

Cause here's the thing, a certain moss-headed love interest doesn't view beauty in a physical sense. Sure, he can appreciate aesthetics, and the fact Hazel actually looks like a stereotypical girl might make his heart thump a little bit (cause I'm just a sucker for those moments lol), but to him what stands out as beautiful is a person's character. Hazel's kindness, her strength (both physical and emotional), her dedication… these are what attracts Zoro. He can see the things she's gone through, the things she's put herself through for others, and every scar she's gained from it only makes her more beautiful in his eyes…

And the only reason I was even thinking about this today is because a while back I saw a post that asked "what's a common theme that appears in everything you write", and while granted I haven't actually written much, I have a lot of ideas and half-formed plots in my head for various OCs and the one common thing is redemption and reconciliation. One of my favorite things in a romance is when you think a couple is solid and perfect, then something happens to show that things aren't perfect, and the couple has to work to fix that thing so they can be stronger (often with a breakup then makeup scenario lol). I love the idea of being so drawn together that even when you think it's over you find a way to see their side and you come back stronger together. But Hazel and Zoro broke the mold for me when it comes to this theme.

I've played around with ways things might become iffy between them, probably when they reunite after the time skip. After so much has happened, and Hazel has literally been to Hell and back, can he really still see her in that way? And at least for now I think some of that anxiety would center around her physical appearance (her appearance is so drastically different post-time skip, like, so much happens lol), but it's also that she can't be exactly the same person that she was 2 years before. And maybe Zoro is feeling some anxiety too, but on the flip side: can she really still feel that way towards him, when she's been through so much? Did he train enough to be worthy of that strength she carries? At some point his priorities shift to not only become the World's Greatest Swordsman, but also to help lift up his partner the way she lifts him (and everyone else) up.

And I think it's important for everyone to know that Zoro is attentive to every scar, he caresses every muscle, and treats her with such utter reverence...honestly thinking about it right now, think "Take Me to Church" vibes lol

He makes Hazel feel absolutely, stunningly beautiful, and it's the only time it doesn't feel uncomfortable.

#roronoa zoro #monkey d. hazel #one piece #one piece original character #one piece oc #together with fruit #twf #i had such coherent thoughts this morning and then like 2 paragraphs in my brain fell asleep lol #like literally this is just me writing the thoughts as they show up so if it's weird I'm so sorry lmfao

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papers4me · 3 years ago

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Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 7 (part 1)

Just to clarify, the only thing I didn’t like abt this ep is tohru, the rest is so good. kyo’s mental state is at its lowest & you can feel for him! ugh!, surprisingly akito’s own lid was so well-done!, Ren & shigure were epicly disgusting & fascinating!, kureno was so well-written, the final scene of tohru & kyo rightfully setting for the climax! Before moving on to the good part, I’ll quickly go over why torhu’s character was once again the most inconsistent character in the show:

Ep,6 ending showed us a completely broken kyo in full display in front of tohru, best furuba cliff hanger to date hands down, followup: tohru laughing, cooking & wondering if kyo is asleep!!!. Complete detachment & extreme insensitivity to what she witnessed earlier. Not an ounce of wonder if kyo is okay or if sth is wrong with him. Not a single inner thought of “ I hope he’s okay” or “ oh momiji don’t call him, He’s a bit tired” while flashbaking to his traumatized face. Honestly, all they needed to do was a small quick inner thought to connect the scenes. No need to write new scenes. Alas, Tohru’s complete lack of compassion struck me deep. I was told ep6 ending was an anime original scene, I don’t mind any diversion from the original since I don’t know the it, but those writers who wrote a complete new scene didn’t feel the need to transition from it to the rest of the manga? really? It’s hard to believe.

Choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after of kyo’s nightmare is not bad as it shows that nobody either care or know abt his issues, fair enough. However, choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after the PTSD in tohru’s own bedroom & not modifying tohru’s happy go lucky, let’s cook yay face to a realistic concerned expression is absurd! It really takes plenty from tohru as a character. This comes after tohru’s long awaited background ep which returns tohru back to square one.

Just last ep, tohru opened her lid in front of kyo & he comforted her, While she still yet to overcome her fears, she failed miserably in doing the only thing that she’s been doing since se01, ep1, being compassionate & thoughtful. Oh well, adding a light scene in the midst of kyo & akito’s dark sequence is more important than tohru’s character consistency & growth.

moving on from tohru~~~

-Kyo’s suffocation: (guilty or not, it doesn’t matter)

we get kyo’s nightmare really gave me chills & was visually well-done. it brilliantly conveyed the feeling of suffocation, blinding fear, & intensified trauma. The nightmare’s horror vividly showcases kyo’s deepest insecurities & trauma:

It started with his mother’s “ it’s not your fault” sth kyo craved to hear from her very badly. Yet, it contradicted her action: Choosing death over staying with him.

His mother brings salvation: the cat’s cage. The cat’s room parallel’s kyo’s real life at his parents house. In se01, eo24, kyo said, he wasn’t allowed to play outside or watch TV, while his bracelet ”handcuffs” were routinely checked by his mom. Just like a prison. His mom sentenced him in the new prison fitting for more horrible sins. The cat’s cage for the rest of his life.

While kyo looks panicked & horrified but on the verge to refuse, kyoko appears. “I won’t forgive you” solidifying his mom’s judgement.

They both warn him of the consequences of living & be forgiven: tohru’s death. Go on, kyo. Add one more victim to suffer in your behalf while you roam free. You might think that you can escape the cat’s cage but your hands remain dirty with blood. Others might not see the blood on yoyr hands, but YOU do.

Kyo is torn between being an actual sinner or a victim, between causing intentional harm or unintentional hurt, between being guilty or not. It all doesn’t matter & kyo knows it. What matter is the punishment has been going for years now & he’s tired, broken, lost & just wants it all to end. Death. Slow death in a tiny cage is so fitting for all the pain he caused others, for all the pain he suffered.

Kyo knows (a) suffering in front of tohru is hurting her. (b) Accepting her love will lead to hurting her: confessing of kyoko’s death. (c) Abandoning her is hurting her. (d) kyo knows that he doesn’t deserve her, not after he caused all this pain. (e) Above all, kyo can’t live with himself anymore. being close to her hurt so much.

-Akito’s lid: ( broken home & broken self image):

I must say they did an excellent job of presenting akito’s past! (a) It was a mixture of narration through (shigure & Ren), (b) actual animation of her parents causing her pain & traumatizing her (the scenes of Akira’s last words, her mom’s accusations), (c) Actual animation of the origin of her parents (Ren & Akira’s relationship), (d) akito herself confessing abt her pain in front of kureno. Tohru’s own lid on the other hands was presented through (a) excessive narrative with minimum animation (the grandpa’s endless exposition of tohru’s background quickly wrapped up), (b) no real animation of kyoko actually hurting tohru or how she did it, just again the grandpa narrating that kyoko “went away”. (c) tohru’s own self recall of her past being cut into pieces & divided throughout the ep, once after running from shigure & another in the sheet scene. Tohru’s ep wasn’t bad at all, it was good, but it was evidently shortened & summarized lazily. Oh well. What both eps serve is painting tohru & akito as foils of each other:

Both are attached toxicly to their parent. Tohru: kyoko & Akito: akira.

Both were welling to create a fake persona or an image that keeps this toxic love alive & cling to it no matter what.

Both hurt themselves the most & are struggling to let go of this bond.

Both have parents that hurt them. Akito: ren & tohru: kyoko, altho it is not clear how kyoko hurt tohru but kyoko is more a ghost than a real character.

Both cling to a dead object that represent their deceased parent. Tohru & the photo frame & akito & the box.

Kyoko existed to be this perfect mother with no sins, the character that tohru embodied to “fix” & “ heal all broken kids”. She lives only in memories. Even other characters think of her as this holy being. It is alluded Kyo seemed to know her as a real person who can commit mistakes, therefore, to kyo, kyoko isn’t an angel or a holy being. However, thanks to their encounter at her death & her “ I won’t forgive you” words, kyoko now is a haunting ghost to kyo. Akira on the other hand, existed as this sickly, pale & fragile head of the house, treated with so much aura & holiness. He died but his sins remain in how he raised akito.

Both must let go of their toxic bonds. Tohru of her deep attachment to her mom & akito to the zodiacs.

Both must learn to form healthier relationships.

However, there are striking differences between them! tohru never abused anyone nor attempted murdering someone by throwing’ em from a terrace, or locking them & torment them or stabbing them with a knife!! Tohru’s sin is torturing herself which by consequence tortured kyo, too. Cuz there’s is a theme of a loved-one’s pain is mine as well. Kyo’s mom hurt her own self & ended her own life. This resulted in her son’s years of immense pain, trauma & self-loath & similar suicidal tendencies, se0, ep16 “ I’ will yuki & then kill myself”, & se02, e9 “ mother, if only you killed me instead”. tragic.

Side Notes:

I will say this with a broken heart....... Tohru must learn to let go of.... kyo. She is suffocating him. Not on purpose. I want them to be together! so bad! they’re so perfect for each other, but also, right now is NOT the time for this. Kyo & tohru’s character issues is NOT abt romance. They have real traumatic issues that are hindering their growth as independent characters. Tohru’s growth might not be well-written or well-presented, but kyo’s growth is still not explored. Next ep is where his lid opened! it must be painful. A person suffering from extreme self-loath & suicidal tendencies shouldn’t be presented so lightly in favor for the love cures all fairy tale! PLZ! NO!

Tohru must learn to not repeat her mistake again & live only for one person. She must let go of kyo in order to gain kyo back. Right now, She can’t have him! kyo is suffocated by his own trauma & adding tohru’s guilt on top of it is devastating. I mean, This could go differently & kyo might accept her love on the spot, & tohru might save him again or sth. I can see this being going deeper or shallower depending on the desired theme. Which of furuba’s heavy themes will be given to climax?

why is momiji doing a rabbit burger? he’s not cursed anymore. I know he’s keeping it a secret, but I thought momiji’s whole growth was abt letting go of the past. he still identifies with the zodiac rabbit?

Ren is hella sexy! & her Japanese VA deserves an Oscar! The way she expresses sexiness, seductive, anger, hate, contempt, sarcasm, delusional screaming, pain! EPIC!

“I thought I was created to receive others contempt” ugh! this hurt, kyo.

Shigure’s line abt looking at Ren to fantasize how akito will look if she were allowed to be a woman, ewww!!!! hella disgusting! imagine sleeping wth someone & fantasizing abt her daughter or vise versa!

Honestly, this ep while not excusing akito’s crimes & abuse of others, it did paint her in a human light. I really don’t want her to end up with shigure. Akito’s whole life is abt misunderstood love. Give her time to discover herself. A guy who slept with her mom is never a reasonable partner even if he loves her for eternity. but oh well~

Shigure indirectly caused Isuzu’s near death abuse by Akito. all in his attempts to free akito from the curse. I love how disgustingly selfish he is. I remember his “ you mom told you to not interfere, kagura” in se03, ep3. shudder!!! if hiro never met haru that day & confessed to him, if kureno never noticed the maid! Still, he went & visited isuzu after her 4 moths imprisonment in the cat’s cage her hospitals discharge & recovery!

ngl... Shigure & Ren’s sexual tension is the biggest in furuba. Eww!

I’ll talk abt kureno & akito more in part 2. but I felt nothing watching kureno get stabbed lol. this is due to the trailer spoiling it & the ED having him happily in love -_-’. bummer!.

I love tohru & kyo’s outfit in the ep cliff hanger. lol. Tohru really dressed up to confess.

Tohru read the room! Even if you magically forgotten how sickly & out of it he was in your room earlier, remember this: Kyo always have bad mood in the rain! Then again... he did hug her for the first time & called her by her name in the midst of a rainy storm. se01, e024. >_<!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #part 1 #sleepy paper

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sandalwoodandjasmine · 3 years ago

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There’s nowhere else I’d rather be (completed)

Iskandar pulls aside the curtain.

The view of the palace courtyard down below beguiles his senses: Between colonnades of white marble, a landscape of water and light presents itself to his view, illuminated by both the moon above and the dozens of candle-lit lamps beneath.

He sighs, then mutters. “This is perfect. I can’t think of anything more perfect.”

In his back, his husband drops onto the spacious bed with its heavily embroidered brocade coverings. His head lands between the copious amount of cushions spread over the bed’s top end. He lets his eyes wander over the dark ebony furniture, the crystal chandelier and the swings dangling from the ceiling, as well as the white marble archways separating the main area from the oriel leading to the balcony.

“It’s quite something,” Antoni agrees. “Explains why they are charging a fortune for just a single weekend.”

Iskandar turns around, smiling bashfully. “Well, it’s my birthday…”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Antoni explains. “As far as I’m concerned, any amount of money is worth having a good time with my husband. You love it, I love it. Easy.”

A warm glow settles on Iskandar’s cheeks as he beholds his husband, sprawled out on the bed. He simply cannot get enough of the magnificent sight that is his jaan.

Iskandar had asked him that they arrive at the Lake Palace in Udaipur in style, both of them dressed in deceptively simple, but precious sherwanis - the cloth hand-picked by Iskandar and custom-tailored to fit them - and light cotton churidar pyjamas. Antoni had initally startled, but eventually agreed; it was Iskandar’s birthday after all, and the stay at the Lake Palace his wish.

He looks so good in Indian clothes, Iskandar thinks wistfully. If only he didn’t have to sandbag Toni into wearing them every single time…

“We will have a good time, jaan,” Iskandar agrees as he saunters towards the bed and plops onto it next to Antoni. He leans in to breathe a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure of it.” He rolls onto his back, crosses his arms behind his head and lets his eyes wander, taking in their regal surroundings. “All about this seems to have leaped straight out of a romance story.”

“Yeah?” Antoni asks, craning his neck to peer at Iskandar.

“Absolutely!” Iskandar insists. “There’s the lake itself, with its languid rhythm,” he explains, angling his thumb on his outstretched palm to indicate the first item on a list. “The palace, which is no less than a fairy-tale castle built out of white marble. The night, with its full moon in front of a star-spangled dome of black. Our room, which is…”

“Pretty corny?” Antoni suggests.

Iskandar throws the other man a puzzled look.

“We have a canopy bed, Iska! A freestanding bathtub! And a swing that’s mounted on the ceiling. A swing!”

Iskandar laughs. “Well yes, we do. But romances, and all their paraphernalia, no matter how corny, never lose their appeal. And anyway,” he angles his still outstretched ring finger. “Our room, which is maybe pretty corny, but is also a regal chamber where once rajas and ranis recited poems, played the sitar or the sarod, and abandoned themselves to other worldly pleasures. And then…” A hungry glint flashes up in Iskandar’s eyes, and his little finger - the last to still stand - bows down. “… and then there is my handsome husband, who is dressed like royalty of begone times himself…”

“Who you dressed up this way!” Antoni defends himself.

“Who I dressed up to look like royalty from begone times, and who reclines on our bed, amid silken cushions and on and equally rich bed cover…”

Antoni playfully rolls his eyes, but cannot help but grin. “You are a poet after all, Isk. You might deny it, and tell me I’m the poet between the two of us, but when put in the right environment, lyrical words flow out of your mouth.”

“I can’t deny that this place, and everything about it… stimulates my imagination.”

A mischievous grin blooms up on Antoni’s mouth. He sits up on the bed. “Why don’t we stimulate your imagination some more?”, he suggest. The expression on his face grows more wicked, and he adds: “My prince?”

Iskandar’s eyebrows clamber up in surprise. “My prince?”, he asks. What is his husband up to?

“You said it yourself,” Antoni explains. He spreads out his arms in a wide gesture to encompass their surroundings. “We are in a place worthy of rajas and ranis. It’s a lovely night. I feel that I must be in the presence of a prince of old.”

Iskandar cocks his head, amusement bubbling up in his chest. “Maybe you are…”

“Would you like me to draw you a bath, your majesty?” Antoni asks. Iskandar notices that he has banished the cocky tone from his voice, and instead has clothed it in mellow notes. He looks up at Iskandar out of doe eyes, half-veiled under long lashes, giving him an air of gentle meekness.

“I…” Iskandar mutters, dumbfounded. He’s thrown off guard by the sudden change in his husband’s demeanour. At the same time, he can’t deny that he finds it arousing. A pleasant tingling spreads all over his skin and makes its way south. Still lost for words, all he can do is nod.

Antoni gets up from the bed, and smooths down the fabric of his sherwani. “Why don’t you sit, while I prepare your bath?” he suggests. Becoming aware of Iskandar’s temporary paralysis, he hurries to his side, gently guides him to one of the heavily cushioned armchairs.

Iskandar lets himself sag down, his eyes following Antoni’s movements in amazement. His husband walks over to the freestanding bathtub that is separated from the rest of the room only by a transparent room divider. He opens the gilded faucet, and a steady stream of water pours forth. Vapour begins to rise and floods over the rim of the tub.

Mesmerised, Iskandar observes how Antoni lets his hand wander over the array of bottles containing bath oil. With his finger, he traces the labels until he comes across one that seems to satisfy him. Antoni unscrews the cap and leads the bottle to his nose. He hums appreciatively before he pours liberal amounts of the oil into the tub.

Soon, the smell of sandal and jasmine deluges Iskandar’s senses. His eyes fall shut. He cannot help but groan with pleasure. The tingling of anticipation morphs into a warm glow, almost an ache that lights up his body from inside.

“My prince. Let me help you undress.”

Iskandar blinks, and sure enough, Antoni is kneeling right next to him, looking up at him expectantly. Iskandar never even noticed how he made his way from the tub to his side.

Antoni’s fingers gently brush against Iskandar’s thigh, waiting for him to react. Not trusting his voice, Iskandar just nods. His heart beating wildly in his chest, he gets up.

Antoni is there immediately. He lifts the maroon silk stole from Iskandar’s shoulder and carefully places it on the coffee table that centers the seating arrangement. The heavy necklace made from several rows of golden beads follows. Then, the thick, jewel studded bracelets are gently stripped off Iskandar’s wrists. Next, nimble fingers untie the buttons of his sherwani.

His husband’s touch is so soft, almost imperceptible. Like a dandelion seed that brushes one’s cheek. Iskandar observes how one button after the other pops open. He licks his lips, and finds them terribly dry. His eyes are glued to Antoni who is veiled in a bloomy haze, lending the scene an oneiric quality. Is it the light cast by the old-fashioned chandelier? Is it his own tipsy state of mind? He can’t tell.

Antoni keeps his eyes lowered, never meeting Iskandar’s gaze. As his fingers reach the last of the buttons in the area of Iskandar’s midriff, he murmurs: “Please raise your arms a little, my prince, so that I may take off your coat.”

Iskandar obeys. Antoni’s hands find Iskandar’s collarbones and slip underneath his sherwani to loosen it and pull it back. As soon as Iskandar’s arms come free, Antoni steps around Iskandar, grabs the sherwani’s shoulder pieces and lifts it off Iskandar. He folds it neatly, and hangs it over the backrest of the armchair Iskandar was sitting in.

Now Iskandar stands there, left with nothing but a thin cotton vest and a pair of churidar trousers. He shivers lightly. Are the goosebumps that have risen up all along his arms the result of him being divested of his coat? Or is the charged atmosphere, the electric tension that has built between him and his husband that provoked them?

“May I…?” Antoni asks. His eyes flit up, checking Iskandar’s expression for the briefest moment, as if he was trespassing into forbidden territory.

“Yes, please,” Iskandar replies, his voice quivering with tension.

A pleased little smile blooms up on Antoni’s lips. He wriggles the vest free from the trousers, then dives his hands underneath it. Drawing his fingers up from Iskandar’s loins, all along his torso, he pulls the vest upwards, and soon it comes free, too. Then he is on his knees again, and pulls at the string of Iskandar’s churidar. The knot holding them together comes open without much resistance and they fall to Iskandar’s ankles. Before Antoni frees him off them entirely, however, he first…

The gaze Antoni throws him then, just before his fingers slip underneath the elastic band of his briefs… An expression both bashful, looking up to Iskandar for assurance, and simultaneously wicked. Iskandar bites his lips and a barely suppressed moan escapes from between them. The sound must have encouraged Antoni, because now the briefs slide over Iskandar’s hips, no more hesitance shown.

What they reveal doesn’t come as a surprise. Iskandar stands to attention. Antoni is playing him all too well. While his briefs slide down his thighs and calves, the breath that Iskandar had been holding wheezes out of his lungs in a hiss. As much as his swollen member is desperate for more stimulation, Antoni clearly doesn’t intend to give it. Not now, anyway.

Instead, he pulls the churidar and briefs over Iskandar’s ankles as if undressing his prince was his only job. “You may step out of them now, my prince.”

Iskandar does as he’s told, and steps out of the last of his clothes. Standing there as he is, stark naked, he waits for what his husband has in store for him next. He resolves to play along, and be the illustrious Indian prince for tonight.

“Your bath is over here,” Antoni murmurs and points in the direction of the tub.

Iskandar nods. “Yes, of course!” he agrees. A bath. This is about taking a bath, he reminds himself. At least for now…

Pulling his shoulders back, puffing out his chest, he struts towards the tub, climbs the steps to the low dais on which it is placed. From the corners of his eyes, he can see Antoni checking him out subtly. Iskandar checks the water’s temperature with his fingers and, finding it to his liking, steps in first with his toes, then slowly submerging his entire leg. Then the other. He lowers himself into the water and soon finds himself engulfed by a pleasant warmth up to his torso.

Already, Antoni is by his side. Kneeling next to the tub, he begins massaging Iskandar’s scalp. Driving his fingers into Iskandar’s curls, Antoni rubs small circles against the skin of Iskandar’s head, applying just the right amount of pressure. He’s too good at this. From the top of Iskandar’s head, Antoni’s fingers wander downward, towards the spot behind Iskandar’s ears, then along his spine. Iskandar cannot help but groan when his husband’s hands part, following the curve of where his neck leads into his shoulders.

“Your shoulders are so tense, my prince,” Antoni scolds him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know,” Iskandar murmurs sheepishly. “The affairs of state…”

“I don’t care about how much work those useless ministers burden you with, or how many lords and ladies try to talk you ears off with their insignificant concerns,” Antoni blisters. “They should know better than to tax their prince beyond his limits. You may be strong, and disciplined. You are capable of great things. But even you are just human. It serves no one if you are tense and exhausted from burning the candle at both ends!”

“Ministers?” Iskandar chuckles. “Lords and ladies? You must be speaking about great councillor Hackett, huh?”

“The very one!” Antoni huffs. “He’s driving you too hard! You are a war hero!”

Iskandar pulls up one eyebrow in amusement. “I am?”

“My prince, it was you who saved us from… from…” Antoni’s eyes turn into slits as he tries to come up with a scenario.

“The Reaper Sultanates?” Iskandar suggests, grinning.

“Yes, thank you,” Antoni agrees. “My knowledge of Indian history is a bit sketchy.”

Iskandar lifts his hand out of the water and strokes Toni’s arm. “You’re doing great, jaan.”

“So anyway, yes,” Antoni nods, slipping back into character. “Thanks to your valor and leadership, our kingdom could fend off theses invaders and prevent them from slaughtering our people. But still, the council treats you as their errand boy!”

“The council can be a pain sometimes…”

“And I have to make up for it by working all that tension and all those cricks out of your muscles every night!” Antoni splutters.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Iskandar sighs. “What would I do without you taking care of me? Working my sore muscles? Drawing my bath, just as I like it? Robing and disrobing me. Lathering my hair, massaging my scalp. Oiling my skin…”

“Somebody needs to look after you, if those in offices of power won’t do it,” Antoni whispers against the shell of Iskandar’s ear.

“You’re too good to me,” Iskandar protests.

“If nobody will treat you as you deserve it, then I’ll have to make up for it all. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my prince.”

“Nothing?” Iskandar muses, drawing his hand over the white bubbles floating atop the surface of the water, etching lines into them that vanish almost immediately as new bubbles flood into the empty spaces.

“Nothing,” Antoni repeats hotly against Iskandar’s ear.

“There’s something…” Iskandar shakes his head. “No.”

“Speak, my prince.”

Iskandar shakes his head again, more vehemently this time. “I don’t think it’s appropriate of me…”

“You mustn’t let what’s on your mind be unspoken,” Antoni insists.

“But…”

“I demand it!”

Iskandar chews his lip, feeling terribly self-conscious all of a sudden. How can he ask this of his servant? Will he not abuse his power, as his overlord, and compel him to do something he wouldn’t willingly consent to?

“Please, my prince…” Antoni repeats, cupping Iskandar’s jaw with his palm, caressing his cheek with his thumb.

“Would you… would you join me?” Iskandar asks breathlessly.

“Join you?” Antoni echoes, his eyes going wide. “Join you in the bath?”

“Well, yes,” Iskandar stutters, immediately following it up with: “Well, no! That’s why I didn’t want to say it, it isn’t my place to ask!”

“I will!” Antoni quickly retorts.

“Please, don’t,” Iskandar pleads. “It’s not an order. It wasn’t meant like that. I don’t want you to feel obliged to do something you’d rather not.”

“But my prince, I want to do it,” Antoni protests. “I want to please you in every way I can.”

Iskandar shakes his head, looking down embarrassed. “I don’t want you to do things just to please me…”

“Well then,” Antoni remarks, perking up his chin.

“Well then?” Iskandar slowly repeats, frowning.

“I’m doing it for myself. I could use a hot bath, too.”

“Oh, is it?” Iskandar asks, feeling his lips curl in mirth again. Antoni is being such a cheeky servant…

He’s already on his feet, marching towards the nearby wooden folding screen.

“What are you doing?” Iskandar wonders.

“If I’m going to undress, I will need some privacy, won’t I?” Toni asks from behind the screen as he starts unbuttoning his sherwani.

“But of course, yes!” Iskandar quickly agrees. It is only right then that he averts his gaze, affording his servant what he surely deserves. If only the folding screen wasn’t carved, the intricate floral patterns etched into the panels revealing much of what is going on behind the screen…

As much as he wants, Iskandar cannot keep himself from stealing glances at the screen. The sherwani is already hung over one of the panels. Soon, the churidar trousers follow. Bit by bit, his servant’s form is revealed. What a fine form it is…

“I will need you to close your eyes, my lord,” Antoni announces.

“Most certainly!” Iskandar calls, reluctantly obeying.

Naked feet pad over the stone floor. “My prince, can you shift a little?” Antoni murmurs, before Iskandar feels him slipping into the tub at his back.

Antoni can’t fully suppress a groan of pleasure as hot water embraces his body. But it’s only a split second before he’s back in character. “Are you comfortable like this, my lord?”

“Very,” Iskandar hums, leaning back against the other man.

Antoni’s hands are back at Iskandar’s shoulders, working the knots and tensions that the hot water hasn’t been able to ease. “I want to make sure you are absolutely comfortable, as relaxed as you can possibly be.”

Iskandar’s fingers run up from Toni’s thighs to his knees, and back down again. “Can’t remember the last time I was as relaxed as this.”

“Good,” Antoni murmurs, and leans in to place a gentle kiss against the side of Iskandar’s neck.

The fine hair at the back of Iskandar’s neck rise up in response to that kiss. He sucks in a breath of air and his hands clench around Antoni’s thighs as his body reacts to the stimulation.

“Am I being too forward, my lord?” Antoni asks while he goes in for another kiss. This time, he lingers. His eyes peering upward to observe Iskandar’s reaction, Antoni lets his tongue venture out of his mouth and begins to explore Iskandar’s neck.

“Ahhhh….” Iskandar’s eyes roll upward as he moans in pleasure. “Quite forward, yes,” he agrees.

“Do you want me to stop then?” Antoni asks as he drags his tongue upward along Iskandar’s neck and towards his jaw.

“You’ll have to,” Iskandar groans. His prior arousal is back, and it is back with a vengeance, lighting his entire body on fire. “Unless…”

Antoni kisses along Iskandar’s jaw “Unless?”

“Unless you want your prince to… to lose his mind and melt in your hands…” Iskandar exhales.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want?” Antoni murmurs. “As I said, absolutely comfortable, as relaxed as possible.”

“You don’t know what you are wishing for,” Iskandar blurts out. “My body is already reacting to you. If you continue down this path, I won’t be able to control myself.”

“Then don’t. I’m not expecting you to control yourself,” Antoni replies, driving his fingers deep into Iskandar’s thick curls to pull his head against his lips.

“I don’t… I don’t want…” Iskandar stammers.

“You don’t need to hold back.”

“I can’t…”

“What is holding you back, my prince?” Antoni urges.

Iskandar shakes his head. “Just because I’m prince… it doesn’t mean… you are still your own person, and I won’t abuse my power…”

“What if you wouldn’t be abusing your powers?” Antoni asks, licking Iskandar’s ear. “What if I wanted it, too? What if wanted you to lose control?”

“Oh my…” Iskandar sighs, and his palms wander from Antoni’s thighs all the way to his buttocks. “I want you,” he finally admits, and squeezes what his fingers have eagerly sought out.

“Then take what you want.”

There is no holding back after that. Iskandar’s hands eagerly feel out Antoni’s ass, run along the outer line of his thighs, then along the inner line, until…

“Bed, now,” Iskandar croaks, his voice almost too brittle to carry. “I need you on the bed.”

He can hear Antoni chuckle against his ear. “As you wish, my lord.”

Iskandar scrambles to get up in the bathtub and out of the water. He hardly notices the water steaming down his flanks, dripping to the floor and collecting in large pools. All he’s aware of is the white hot intensity of his desire. If he doesn’t get relief soon…

“Sshhh, slow down a little.” Toni places a hand on Iskandar’s shoulder to hold him back. “What’s the rush?”

Iskandar searches out the other man’s eyes. “I fear I’m burning up,” he admits. “My want for you knows no bounds.”

Antoni picks up a towel from the nearby towel stand and places it around Iskandar’s shoulders. “Your want will find its fulfillment soon enough, and your desire consummation. Give me just a short moment to dry you off,” Antoni pleads, then starts carefully towelling Iskandar dry.

Iskandar can’t take his eyes off of Toni. That tender patience. How he lifts Iskandar’s arm, then takes his hand. Makes sure to not leave out the spaces between Iskandar’s fingers. “You’re very meticulous.”

“That’s how it ought to be.”

“Yeah? My fingers?”

“I love your fingers,” Antoni replies. With a faint smile, he leans in and places feathery light kisses on the tips of each of the finger’s of Iskandar’s right hand. “Slender. Elegant. A prince’s fingers.”

“You are so dedicated.”

“I couldn’t be otherwise,” Antoni explains as he finishes rubbing Iskandar off, then quickly towelling himself dry. “From the day I first got to know you, I knew I wanted to dedicate myself to you. Wanted to give you my all.”

“And you have…” Iskandar whispers, running his fingers through Antoni’s hair. “You have served me like no other. Loyal and true like no other. In good times and in bad. In peace as in war. In life and…” Iskandar shudders. He disentangles the towel from between Antoni’s fingers and drops it to the ground. With his now free hands, he grasps the other man’s hips and pulls them flush against himself. “… in death.” Iskandar leans in to kiss Antoni, kiss him deeply.

A soft moan escapes from Antoni’s lungs, and he slightly opens his mouth. Iskandar does not hesitate. He seizes the chance and plunges his tongue deep into the other man’s mouth. He claims what’s his, eagerly lapping at teeth and palate. His tongue is met by Antoni’s who avidly reciprocates. Their tongues flow and undulate around each other for long moments, until a completely breathless Iskandar pulls back.

“Bed, now.” This time it unmistakably comes out as an order.

Antoni obliges. Iskandar doesn’t have to prod him any. Antoni moves backwards, towards the bed; Iskandar follows. Eventually, Antoni’s legs meet with the bed frame. He topples backwards and lands in the sheets with a soft thud, spread-eagled. Iskandar eagerly crawls on top of him.

“Now you have me just where you wanted me,” Antoni comments with a broad grin on his face. “What are you going to do with me, I wonder?”

Iskandar runs his hand along the other man’s arm, feels the supple flow of muscle underneath the skin.

“Make love to you,” he replies. There is no trace of hesitance in his voice.

Antoni’s grin vanishes from his face. His brows quirk upwards, the lines around his mouth slacken. That expression on his face, what is it? He looks… aching, Iskandar thinks. Yearning.

“I’ve long wanted to do that,” he continues. “Make love to you. I think… pretty soon after you were first put into my service.”

“That long?” Antoni whispers.

Iskandar hums in agreement. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were different from the other servants,” he explains. “You looked at me differently. I noticed that you stole glances when you thought I didn’t pay attention. You put… a lot more care into everything you did. Payed attention to details. Polished my sword until its shine would rival with the moon. Waxed the scabbard of my sword to keep the leather supple. Folded my clothes or hung them, so they wouldn’t crumple or crease. Made sure that my meals were neither too hot, nor too cold. Drew my bath at just the right temperature. Found all the sore spots, all the tense muscles in my body and lavished additional attention on massaging them.”

“Yes…”

“It… kindled the fire of affection within me. When you stood at my side in battle… and I could witness your courage and strength… that affection grew into desire,” Iskandar admits. “And I’ve long since ached to quench that desire. It’s like a thirst, one that parches my throat, torments me as I wake, keeps me awake at night.”

“Quench it, my prince,” Antoni murmurs hoarsely. “Quench it within me.” As he says this, his legs slip around Iskandar.

One of his calves lands on Iskandar’s butt and pulls him in. His aroused length rubs against Antoni’s ass, and Iskandar sucks in a hard breath. “I want you so bad…” he mutters.

“I’m yours. I’m ready.”

Iskandar exhales with a shuddering breath. “First need…” He leans over, stretches to reach the nightstand where he presciently placed lubcriant. He had foreseen that it wouldn’t take long until they’d be all over each other. A several weeks long deployment off world had preceded this vacation. Once he arrived back on Earth, Iskandar had agreed to rendezvous with Antoni in Delhi, where they had boarded a shuttle to Udaipur. The trip hadn’t been long; the atmosphere had been charged with barely contained sexual tension.

His fingers close around the little bottle. He sits back onto his haunches, and uncorks it. He pours a generous amount of the lubricant onto his palm, rubs his hands both to warm it, and to spread it all over his fingers. A sweet fragrance reaches his nose.

“Almond?” Antoni smiles, biting his lip.

Iskandar can feel his cheeks warm and redden. “It’s very mild. And it cares for the skin.”

Antoni chuckles. “And it smells really nice.”

“Well, y-yes… I mean, the practical can be combined with the pleasurable, no?” Iskandar stutters. “A pleasurable smell… it’s such nice thing…”

Antoni runs his fingers through Iskandar’s hair, curls one of his locks around his pointer finger. “I know, my prince, I know. I am… intimately familiar with your musk. Sandal and jasmine… It has kept me awake many a night. Having that smell all around me. Thinking of you…”

“Oh, is it?” Iskandar asks. He leads his hands down to his own length, wraps his hand around it. “The thought of me has kept you awake at night?”

“My prince, let me,” Antoni interjects, peeling the bottle out of Iskandar’s fingers to pour lubricant into his own palm. “Yes, it has,” he picks up again. “Many a night, I couldn’t untangle myself from your smell, the memory of your smile, of your hands, your lips…”

“My… my lips…” Iskandar groans. Antoni has curled his fingers around his erect cock and started spreading lubricant all over it. Of course he does so in excruciatingly slow swipes, more teasing then touching. Typical of him!

“Your lips, yes. I couldn’t help wondering… what it would feel like kissing them. I imagined them to be soft, soft like rose petals.” Antoni smiles. “Today, I could finally verify… that in truth, kissing them feels even better. Delicious.”

His husband’s smile, the way his hand haunts his skin - it drives Iskandar crazy. “Here you are, finally mine… no longer do you have to dream about me from afar,” he murmurs, circling his fingers in the air just inches away from Antoni’s ass before diving in.

Antoni moans, openly and with gusto.

Iskandar feels emboldened to pursue, to dip his fingers in a little deeper.

Again, his husband responds with great enthusiasm, pitching his hips upwards, driving Iskandar’s fingers deeper inside himself.

“Eager?” Iskandar breathes.

“Very,” Antoni replies, his voice husky. “I want you. With every fibre of my being. My prince, I want you.”

Iskandar bites his lip, chews it between his teeth. He wishes he had more patience. Usually he does. He should have more patience. But not now. Not tonight. Not after weeks of separation.

He leans forward. Picks a cushion from the head end of the bed, and pushes it underneath Antoni’s hips. The other man instinctively raises his legs, wraps them around Iskandar. He’s just as avid, Iskandar thinks. The thought propels him forward even more.

There’s not much preparation beyond what has already occurred. Iskandar guides himself against Antoni’s ass. Holds his breath, his heart pounding. Then he pushes, and with a sigh of relief slips in, buries himself fully into his husband.

Antoni, for his part, gasps, a gasp that immediately morphs into a moan. “Finally.”

After that, there’s no holding back. Iskandar starts thrusting. He sets a fast pace, to satisfy his burning desire. Waves of pleasure build up, crash, and pour out into every cell of his body, up to the top of his head and down to the toes of his feet. And still, he wants more. He speeds up the pace of his thrusts. Sweat rolls along the curve of his spin, trickles down his temples, drops onto his husbands chest, all while Iskandar drives himself in, again and again, with every forward movement of his hips. He just can’t get enough…

“We’re not taking it slow, are we?” Antoni chuckles. “No gentle love-making, huh?”

All that Iskandar can do, in response, is groan. Loudly. Helplessly. The tightness of Antoni’s ass around his cock drives him wild. There’s no coherent thought left in his brain. Just pure, intense sensation that is lighting up his entire being. And raw need. For more. For more pleasure, but also greater unity. With the man that is his jaan, his life.

Instinctively, his hand reaches out, searches and finds its destination. His fingers curl around Antoni’s erection. He begins stroking it, at first tentatively, then decidedly, synchronsing the pace of his strokes with the rhythm of his hips.

The reaction he gets is exactly what he was looking for: small gasps that quickly morph into drawn-out moans. As much as he can, given that he is being thrust into, Antoni pivots his hips, seeks to grind his erection into Iskandar’s hand.

Iskandar happily gives him what he desires.

Antoni, in turn, buries one hand in Iskandar’s curls, wraps them around his fingers, while the other hand runs up and down Iskandar’s back. He pulls Iskandar in, pulls his face towards himself, so he can crush his lips against Iskandar’s lips.

Again, Iskandar happily gives what is desired.

“How… how much longer…” Iskandar gasps against Antoni’s lips, “… do you think… I’m close…”

This need, there’s this need inside him, emerging in his heart, being pumped into his system, coursing through his veins… He wants to be close, as close as possible. Be one. As much as that’s a possibility.

Thrusting inside Toni is good. Kissing him deeply is good. But there could be more…

“I’m close, Antoni…” he croaks, “I need…”

“I’m with you, Isk,” Antoni replies. “I’m right here… right here with you… don’t… don’t hold back…”

“I…”

“Don’t hold back… there’s no need…”

Antoni’s words undo him. They open what had been sealed. Unleash what had been restrained inside. Orgasm erupts, spreads like a wildfire, and Iskandar channels it with a small cry, a cry that precedes the flow of his ejaculate.

As promised, his husband follows soon after. A small moan that gets caught against the nook of Iskandar’s neck, then Iskandar can feel wetness dampen the inside of his palm, spread, run along his fingers, dripping onto Antoni’s belly.

For long moments, they just stay like this, breathing. Waiting for the intensity of their respective climax to run its course. Just breathing and being, savouring the moment, savouring their togetherness.

Eventually, Iskandar lets himself fall to the side, lands in the sheets. He covers his eyes with his upper arm.

Next to him, Antoni chuckles. “That was amazing,” he comments. “And sorely needed. It’s been way to long.”

Iskandar is still waiting for his racing heart to calm down as Antoni rolls on his side, places a soft kiss against Iskandar’s cheek. “I love you, Isk. You’re amazing.”

Iskandar lifts his arm from his eyes. He sighs. “I don’t understand why I spend so much time away from you, jaan. I could have this every day.”

“You could,” Antoni agrees, pursing his lips. A dreamy look appears on his face, and Iskandar must assume that he’s running that scenario though his head. Then Antoni sighs. “But you choose not to, because you have a duty to fulfill. As an admiral of the Alliance and special envoy of the Council, you help keep the peace in the galaxy.”

“Do you say that to talk me up, or to talk yourself up?” Iskandar wonders.

“I’m not talking anyone up. I’m just reminding us of what’s true.”

“Is it?” Iskandar asks, looking at Antoni pensively. “I can’t help but wonder, sometimes. When I have been away from you for as long as I have: am I a bad husband? Am I not prioritising you enough? Shouldn’t I be giving you more of my time and attention? Is it not selfish of me, wanting, no insisting to serve as an admiral. Even now?”

“Iska, don’t,” Antoni protests.

“You’ve shown so much patience, Antoni, so much loyalty. Through the choices I’ve made, I’ve put you through so much,” Iskandar continues. “You’ve had to fight a war. You’ve had to mourn me, twice. And even now, after everything, I make you bear long separation. I won’t stop putting you through-”

Antoni shakes his head, places his fingers on Iskandar’s lips to seal them. “Shh. Isk, don’t. I knew all this when I married you. It’s part of who you are. The strong sense of duty. That unshakable need to serve. Nothing, not even the war, or death, could change that about you. You wouldn’t be you. And I love all of you, including that part of you.”

Iskandar is not quite ready to let it go just yet. “Antoni…”

Again, Antoni shakes his head. “Let’s take a bath,” he admonishes. “Clean ourselves up. Before the water gets cold. I’ve pulled us such a nice bath, and they have the most amazing scented oils here. It would be a complete waste to not slip in and get a good soak.”

Iskandar closes his eyes, can’t help but chuckle. “You’re right of course,” he agrees.

“And anyway,” Antoni continues. “I’m not done yet massaging out all those tense muscles in your back. You have a sore spot, just underneath your shoulder blade, isn’t it?”

“I…”

“You’ve spent way too much time sitting, writing reports, haven’t you?”

“Jaan…”

“You’re working too hard,” Antoni scolds. “Who will take good care of you but I?”

***

Toweled dry and having slipped into soft and fluffy bathrobes, Antoni and Iskandar decide to cuddle up in the seating niche in the room’s spacious oriel. The casements of the stained glass windows are opened wide to catch the nighttime breeze.

Outside, flocks of clouds drift past the moon. The night is quiet apart from the whisper of the fountains and the cry of the cicadas wafting up from the courtyard below.

Reclining against the cushions in his back, Iskandar hums happily. He pulls his husband, who is laying against his chest, a little closer, burying his mouth in Antoni’s hair.

“I didn’t know how much I needed this,” he declares.

“Yes,” Antoni chuckles. “You were really into this, that much was clear.”

“Not like I tried to hide it,” Iskandar retorts.

“The prince thing really got you going, didn’t it?”Antoni asks, smirking.

A blush spreads on Iskandar’s cheeks, spreading over his entire face “Well…”

“Make no mistake!” Antoni clarifies. “I found that extremely hot. The way you let go and just… claimed what’s yours.”

Iskandar arches his brows. “You are mine?”

“Heart, body and soul,” Antoni simply retorts.

Iskandar shakes his head. “Oh Antoni,” he murmurs and places a kiss against Antoni’s hair. Then he sighs.

Antoni cranes his neck to check on his husband. “What’s up? Did something happen?” he wonders.

“No, not at all,” Iskandar mollifies. “Just. Everything…”

“Everything?” Antoni prods, looking puzzled.

“Yes, everything. About this moment. This life,” Iskandar explains. “That we should actually be here. That we should live to see this day, to experience this moment. It still feels unreal, sometimes.”

“It does,” Antoni agrees.

“When we were in the midst of it all…” Iskandar shakes his head incredulously. “Wouldn’t’ve thought it possible.”

“Nah,” Antoni snorts. “Cards were stacked against us. Pretty fucked up odds.”

“Not in my wildest dreams…” Iskandar continues, his voice quivering. “The best outcome… almost too much to hope for…”

“… was to go out in a blaze of glory and take these bastards along with us, ridding the galaxy of their existence,” Antoni finishes Iskandar’s sentence.

“Yes,” Iskandar croaks.

“Yet here we are. Pretty much a miracle.”

Iskandar nods. “Every day since has been a gift.”

Antoni sighs and cuddles up closer to his husband. “It has. I know that I’m certainly treating each one like the precious thing it is.”

“Huh. Yes,” Iskandar agrees. “What boggles my mind is this. Not only did we live, both of us, but we were given so much more. Blessings that… could and maybe well should be spread out among a dozen people. Azadi and Bashir entered our relationship and we’ve since experienced love so intense and deep, I didn’t think it possible. And then of course… our children arrived.”

Antoni smiles. “Our little rays of sunshine.”

“It seems almost too much…”

“What, no!” Antoni protests. “For everything we’ve gone through, it only seems fair, ok?”

“The war, the Reapers,” Iskandar continues pensively. “Sometimes, it feels like all of it happened in another lifetime.”

“It’s true. The contrast couldn’t be more… extreme.”

A cloud drifts in front of the moon and for a few short seconds, the moon disappears. But soon enough, the cloud has passed and no longer mars the moon’s refulgence. In another time, another life… entities much more ominous overshadowed the moon. Overshadowed the sun and stars and the entire sky. Destruction rained down from above, as it simultaneously did on all worlds, all over the galaxy.

An echo of that shadow must have travellled over Iskandar’s face, because Antoni whispers. “Don’t let the memory of those times trouble you, Isk. It’s in the past. We beat them. We survived. We built a life for ourselves and we get to savour our victory, with every day, with every breath.”

“We’ve not even turned forty yet, Antoni. How can this be?,” Iskandar asks incredulously. “From my childhood spent between space and India, to Brain Camp, to joining the Alliance and the N7 program. Getting to know you. The Skyllian Blitz, Akuze, our marriage. Taking command of the Normandy, being made the first human Spectre. Saren. Sovereign. Alchera. Project Lazarus and Cerberus. Horizon. The war. The catalyst. Dying a second time and… being brought back a second time. Becoming an admiral. Azadi and Bashir. An then of course Rey, Vijay, Aman and Asha. Ambra. Vivek…”

“If you put it like that… we’ve actually had pretty eventful lives so far,” Antoni hums.

“Eventful lives?” Iskandar asks, shaking his head. “More like, experiences worth ten lifetimes, maybe more.”

“Well, yes,” Antoni concedes. “Don’t think I’ll mind if things turn out not quite as eventful, going forward.”

“Hey!” Iskandar protests, wagging his finger. “I’ve just been promoted to the rank of an admiral. One of the youngest admirals in the history of the Alliance! My career has barely started!”

“Barely started?” Antoni snorts. “If the Reaper War wasn’t your endgame, I’m not sure I want to know what is.”

“Just wait and see,” Iskandar replies, perking up his chin.

“Course I will!”

“Yes. Of course you will,” Iskandar agrees. He grabs Antoni’s hand, laying his palm flat against Antoni’s before he entwines their fingers. “You always do. You always did. All this time, throughout it all, you’ve been by my side.”

“Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#iskatoni #iskatoni anniversary

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justablobfish · 4 years ago

Text

Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for

Day 13 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

______

It's going to be Jaskier’s second time visiting Kaer Morhen.

Two years ago, Geralt had asked him only a few days before they were scheduled to separate for the winter. It had all been rather sudden and the whole season had passed in a blur of anxiety and excitement.

He hadn't even met the whole family then, Geralt's little brother Lambert hadn't made it to the keep that year. Then, the year after, Jaskier got delayed by his family until he couldn't make it to the keep anymore; the path had already snowed over.

This year though - this year Jaskier is determined to make the most of his time at Kaer Morhen and charm his way into the hearts of Geralt's family until they can't imagine winter without him anymore.

Step one is to make a good first impression after the Wolves haven't seen him in so long. And the easiest way to do that is to get the perfect welcome gift for everyone scheduled to be there.

He comes across the first gift mere weeks after the snow of the previous winter has melted. After the tedious experience with his parents he decides to spend some time in Oxenfurt to recuperate.

In his favorite dingy little bookstore he finds the perfect present for Eskel.

Yes, yes, a steamy romance novel might not necessarily be the best way to prove himself to his lover's family, but the cover of the book shows your usual handsome warrior with very revealing clothing clutching a swooning damsel in distress in his overly muscular arms. Except this protagonist is drawn with an enormous scar covering the left side of his face.

He's extremely handsome. So is Eskel, of course, but whenever Jaskier tells him as much he just dismisses the compliment. With this book though, Eskel will have to believe him that scars are seen as attractive by quite a number of people. Why else would they draw the cover like this?

His second gift he also finds in a bookstore, though this place couldn't possibly be more different than where he found the book for Eskel.

The "Ye Olde Books" in Toussaint sells only the most esteemed antiquities to rich noblemen who never intend to read them and only display them to prove their supposedly good taste and to exaggerate their riches.

Jaskier quickly determines the oldest book the store has on offer. It's still younger than the recipient of the gift, of course, but the fairy tale stories it holds should still be similar enough to the stories that must have been popular when Vesemir was a child.

After the events of the last winter Jaskier at least managed to guilt trip his parents enough that he has no trouble paying for the delicate tome.

As for Lambert, Jaskier didn't meet him the one year he spent at Kaer Morhen, but he and Geralt ran into the younger Witcher on the Path once. It was a brief encounter and Lambert didn't seem to particularly like Jaskier.

Geralt reassured him afterwards that it's nothing personal and that Lambert doesn't like anyone.

Even though they couldn't possibly be more different, Lambert somewhat reminded Jaskier of himself. Jaskier is happy with his place in the world now, but he had to carve it out for himself, which hadn't always been easy. He remembers a time when he, too, felt trapped in the life he was born into, never good enough to satisfy his parents or to become a person in his own right, not just the heir to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with.

So the bitterness Lambert carries around with him feels very familiar.

His third gift, therefore, is just as expensive as Vesemir's and on top of that requires a large amount of convincing to work out. Luckily, Jaskier has practice annoying someone enough until they agree to anything. He spent most of his life perfecting the skill with the involuntary help of his lover.

By the time winter comes around again, the specially commissioned Gwent card will have started distribution. Though of course Jaskier will carry a copy of the new Lambert hero card with him as well and present it to Geralt's younger brother. He's made sure it would be stronger than the White Wolf card that became popular in recent years.

Ciri's gift is easy enough. Jaskier simply buys the biggest, fluffiest teddy bear he can find. Ciri is going to roll her eyes at him and claim that she isn't a kid anymore, but that's exactly what makes it the perfect present. With all that destiny business, the kid forgets far too often to allow herself to be a child sometimes.

How to get this monstrous thing, which is nearly as tall as Jaskier, back to Kaer Morhen is an entirely different story, though…

The gift for Yennefer isn't hard to find either once he meets up with Geralt and travels with him again. In a run-down little general store in a village in the middle of nowhere, in the furthest corner of the shop, hidden under a fishing net and a set of gardening tools, lies the most atrocious knitted sweater Jaskier has ever seen. There's no reason to abandon old traditions, even if he and Yennefer don’t meet up at Oxenfurt anymore. And in case Yennefer doesn't attend Kaer Morhen this winter, he'll simply keep it around until the next time they meet. The knitwear is so incredibly ugly, it would be a shame to waste it.

Geralt informs him one day that Lambert will bring a plus one. Not a boyfriend or close friend or anything, just a superficial acquaintance. The fact that Lambert risked his own hide to save the man's life is - apparently - entirely coincidental and without meaning. It's just that this other Witcher of the Cat school has no other place to spend the winter. Nothing more.

Geralt calls his little brother an emotionally constipated idiot and Jaskier can't help but burst out laughing at the hypocrisy.

Jaskier isn't sure whether to get this Aiden a gift as well since he never met the man, but as so often in his life, fate takes matters into its own hands.

He's perusing his favorite clothes store in Vizima when he finds the most beautiful scarf. It's big and woolen and perfectly flashy. Every handspan or so the pattern and colours change completely. All in all it shows every colour of the rainbow.

That is not the gift for Aiden, of course. But it's going to look great on Jaskier, especially since Geralt still insists he wears that old grey winter cloak. Granted, the cloak is warm, but oh so boring looking. The scarf will be just the right accessory to add a bit of color to his winter wardrobe.

The gift for Aiden he comes across as he leaves the store. A little boy, who must be the owner's son, sits at the side of the road and busies himself with thread and needle.

Curious, Jaskier steps closer and finds that the boy is attaching pieces of felt to a simple hairband.

Once the kid is done he puts the headband on and the felt pieces stand up in such a way that it appears like the boy has kitten ears growing out of his head.

Jaskier considers for a moment but then decides that if this Aiden is voluntarily hanging out with Lambert, he must have a good sense of humor. He buys the headband off the boy and heads back to his and Geralt's inn room.

Maybe it's because he's traveling with Geralt and can't really go looking for a gift for the White Wolf, but by the time their departure for Kaer Morhen rolls around, Jaskier has a little something for everyone, except Geralt. He doesn't even have an idea what he could gift to the man. Anything practical like a new whetstone, better armor or a fancy dagger is something that Geralt is far better equipped to pick out himself. Jaskier has little knowledge about such things.

And while Jaskier has spent the last twenty years of his life convincing the big oaf that he deserves pretty things every once in a while, too, Jaskier can't think of anything that wouldn't just be in the way when they eventually set out on the Path again.

The end of autumn creeps closer and closer and Jaskier’s head stubbornly remains empty. It shouldn't be this hard to think of something that Geralt would enjoy. After all, Jaskier has known him for over two decades now. But it seems like everything he could get his favorite Witcher he has already gotten him at some point during their travels.

He still has no idea when they pass the last village on the way to the Witchers’ keep.

Or when they start making their way up the mountain path.

Maybe there's a pretty rock he can pick up?

What? No, that's a dumb idea. He's not just gonna pick up a random rock just because he's desperate. At this point he'll just have to accept the fact that he has no gift for Geralt.

They reach the keep after two days of tedious climbing - not something Jaskier missed from his last visit - and are greeted at the gates by the other Witchers. Geralt's family members each welcome Geralt with a short hug and a pat on the back, while another man, who must be Lambert's tagalong, awkwardly stands to the side. Vesemir and Eskel nod at Jaskier courtly, Lambert only grunts at him.

Jaskier makes eye contact with Aiden who rolls his eyes at him apologetically over Lambert's behaviour.

Then Geralt brings Roach to the stables and they all quickly make their way inside.

In the large dining hall they meet Yennefer and Ciri. Apparently they only came here a day earlier via portal, making Jaskier and Geralt the last to arrive.

"I have welcoming gifts!" Jaskier addresses everyone.

Eskel reacts to his present with eyes narrowed in confusion. Then they grow wide with realisation and wonder.

Lambert scoffs when Jaskier hands him his parcel. He doesn't scoff again after he unpacks it.

Aiden grins at him widely and immediately puts his gift on.

Vesemir simply hums appreciatively. It reminds Jaskier far too much of Geralt. He supposes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Ciri, as expected, reacts with a pout and the declaration that she's not a child anymore. Still, she clutches the plushy to her chest and refuses to let it go when Aiden says he'll take it if she doesn't like it.

Yennefer snarls at her sweater and quickly turns away from the group to hide it, but just like Ciri does with the teddy bear, she clutches it to her chest protectively.

Which only leaves Geralt.

"I, uh…, " Jaskier stutters and stares at his empty hands.

"Hmm," Geralt hums. "Saving the best for last?"

He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, turns him around so that he's facing the room. He hugs Jaskier from behind and places his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder.

"Seems like you got me the best gift of all," Geralt hums. "Look!"

Confused, Jaskier glances about the room. Vesemir and Eskel are sitting in a corner, flipping through their respective books. Lambert is chasing Aiden through the room, who has stolen his Gwent card and is waving it around tauntingly. Ciri holds the teddy out to Yennefer, who's holding her sweater to the bear's chest to see if it would fit him. There's nothing out of the ordinary that Jaskier can spot.

"I don't under-" he begins.

"Everyone's here," Geralt explains. "My whole family in one place for the very first time. I couldn't possibly ask for more."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #Jaskier #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #aiden #vesemir #ciri #Yennefer of Vengerberg #theblobfishwrites

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

AN: You know how people say, “wow, this turned dark fast,” well this chapter is the embodiment of that. So, warning this chapter is dark. Thanks to everyone who has followed this story!

Word Count: 3.3k

Trigger Warnings: racism, hate crimes, violence

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @leahnicole1219

Chapter Twelve: A Macabre Rite of Passage

Sabine became aware of the morning when she felt the heat of the sun beating down on her face. Her eyes fluttered open, but immediately shut again as the bright rays of the morning sun stung her irises. Sabine raised her hand to shield the blinding light enough for her to see. Sabine vocalized her disapproval as a grunt that melted into a groan, forgetting how inadequate her curtains proved to be at times. She went to roll over, but felt a weight across her waist, glancing down she saw a tanned arm wrapped around her.

Sabine smiled to herself now feeling the mustache tickling the back of her neck.

"Bastien," she thought.

Carefully, Sabine shifted herself around to be able to face Bastien, admiring at how peaceful he looked as he slept. He was sporting a bad case of bed-head, but she didn't care, it added charm to him. Her eyes scanned over him, being this close to Bastien she could see the softness in the lines of his face a lot more clearly. She could almost see the youthfulness he once possessed. Sabine propped her head up before reaching her finger out and letting it softly trail down the bridge of his nose, then tracing the curves of his lips.

"Is that entertaining you?"

The sound of Bastien's hoarse voice startled her causing Sabine to jerk her hand back as he opened his eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked breathlessly, trying to get heartbeat under control.

"Since you went to roll over," he answered, mirroring her position. "But I decided to let myself be showered in your attention," he explained, the bed sheet that covered him sliding off his chest.

An involuntary shiver ran down Sabine's spine as the chilly air around them nipped at the naked skin of shoulders and thighs.

She rolled her eyes, "You're unbelievable," she remarked, shaking her head.

"I don't think so," he disagreed. "Who wouldn't want your attention?" he asked, dragging her closer to him, warmth emanating from his body.

Sabine grinned, "I could name a few, but they wouldn't come close to how you make me feel," she said, letting her arms rest above her head.

Bastien laughed softly and rolled on top of her, careful not to crush her with his full weight. Sabine's heartbeat increased again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He leaned in slowly until his mouth touched hers, caressing her lips. Sabine's fingers found themselves entangled in Bastien's hair as he pulled her closer, his kisses more ardent. A small moan from Sabine spilled into Bastien's mouth at the sensation of his fingers skimming up her thigh before hooking it over his hip in a bruising grip. Bastien's lips slowly curved upward at the contented noises coming from beneath him.

The two of them pulled apart, trying to catch their breaths with their foreheads pressed together.

"Shh," Bastien hushed playfully. "Any louder and you'll wake the whole house. These walls are thin you know," he joked, and nipped at her chin.

She laughed warmly, "As if they don't know what happened already from you dragging me away to the house last night," she retorted, which turned into a high pitch gasp because of his ministrations.

Bastien smiled against her neck at her reaction, planting another open mouth kiss at her nape. It made her shiver and tingle. The soft breaths coming from him tickled her neck as his mouth traveled lower and lower, nipping and sucking at the sensitive area of her collarbone. Sabine slid her hands from his hair and to his jaw, pulling him up for a deep kiss. Her tongue swept across his lower lip and the vibrations of the groan that Bastien let out reverberated through her body. Breaking away with a soft smack of their lips, Bastien's breathing matching hers.

A cheeky grin made its way onto her face, feeling him stir against her thigh.

"I think someone's happy to see me," Sabine quipped, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Very happy," he retorted, rolling his hips against hers.

Her eyes rolled backwards, "Sebasti-" Sabine breathed sharply, before his mouth covered her own, swallowing the moan that almost came out.

Sabine felt his muscles flex and tense under the tips of her fingers, lifting his head slightly, Bastien's lips hovered over hers. His hands came up to her side to grip her waist, tracing patterns against her ribs with his thumbs. Sabine's heart thrummed in her chest as their noses bumped against each other. A faint clanking sound from the den caused her eyes to dart off to her door.

"I think Andy is awake," she murmured, her lips brushing his. "Fun time is over," she commented

"Says who?" he questioned, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. "I didn't hear anything," he objected, placing languid kisses up and down the area.

"We can't stay in bed for the whole day Bastien," Sabine stated, shuddering at the sensation of his lips on her ear.

"I don't know," Bastien responded, his fingers traveling up to the sides of her breasts. "We could give it a try," he suggested, and Sabine could envision the smile on his face.

She chuckled with a shake of her head, "I have errands to run," she said, dragging her fingers up Bastien's back. "Chores to do," she continued, gently cupping his face. "Another time perhaps?"

Bastien's mouth flipped up into a tiny smirk, "Only if we finished what we started," he proposed, with a gleam in his eyes.

"Five minutes Bastien,"

He arched his brow, "Five?" he repeated. "Now that is a bit insulting Sabine," he stated, smirking at her.

Sabine rolled her eyes, "Ten," she remarked, feeling herself smile.

Bastien grinned down at her and lowered his face towards hers, capturing her lips again in a soft yet demanding kiss.

~~~x~~~

One lonesome cowboy rode without a care in the world on her horse. All the while whistling the tune of "Darling Nelly Gray", with only the trees and bushes of the woods as her audience. A faint smile adorned her face, in a way she felt terrible, the song was about a slave's wife being sold and taken from him. On the other hand, the verses were beautifully sad and resonated deeply with Sabine, it was a marker of how far she's come in life. After all, it wasn't that long ago she was in the same position that the song is about, the only difference is that the roles were reversed.

Henry.

During the war she often thought about her first love, where he was, what he might be doing, or if he was even alive. The former she liked to ignore, instead she wanted to believe that he managed to escape from his bondage and went North to freedom and started a new family, living happily ever after. However, Sabine knew that such fairy-tale endings were never meant for folks like her. Her husband was most likely dead, leaving Sabine to believe she would never know happiness again.

But once she got settled into her newfound immortal life, Sabine allowed herself to entertain the idea of romance once more. Sabine was by no definition the most open woman, as one could imagine she kept her heart guarded after watching her husband be sold on a whim. She was very particular with the men she engaged with. They couldn't be too ugly, too demanding, or too sex-driven. They had to pique her interest in some sort of fashion.

"With those incredibly high standards Sabine, you just eliminated 99% of potential partners," Josef quipped.

It had been some time since she had finally opened up as she did. And it felt so good to do so for the first time in awhile. How she felt this morning with Bastien, it reminded Sabine of her first moments meeting Henry.

"Miss Vance?" a boy called.

Her whistling stopped abruptly and she snapped out of her musing. Turning her head to the owner of the voice, she found herself staring at a young boy riding beside her, his brown eyes wide and glassy.

Well, she wasn't completely alone, Bonnie and her brother tagged along for a morning ride.

"Yes, Solomon," Sabine responded.

"You kill people, right?"

"Solomon!" Bonnie hissed.

Sabine knew if Bonnie didn't have the reins in her hands, she would've reached behind her and choked her younger brother.

She chuckled and bit, "It's alright Bonnie," she assured. "It's not like it's a secret," she pointed out with a shrug.

The three of them rode past the meadow, Sabine happened to glance off to her right and see something off in the distance. She tugged on the reins ordering Freedom to come to a halt. She just sat on her horse, brown eyes peering out from under the brim of her brown duster, her mouth set in a frown.

"Something wrong Corinna?" Bonnie asked, as she closed the distance between her and Sabine.

Sabine frowned, narrowing her eyes slightly at a figure swaying back and forth.

"Stay behind me," she ordered. "But a keep distance," she added.

Sabine dug her heels into the sides of her horse and Freedom bore down at a furious pace down the grassy plains. Her heart was beating fast, filled with dread of what she thought she saw. Freedom let out a frustrated snort as she slowed her pace slightly. Sabine placed her hand on the horse's neck, as if the gesture would be enough to keep the animal going.

And in the distance, she saw it, the lone tree.

Hanging on the higher branches, was the silhouette of a black man, stripped down to only his nightshirt. His face in a gruesome contortion of pain.

"C-Corinna, is that what I-" Bonnie began.

"Stay back!" Sabine snapped, looking over her shoulder.

Bringing her horse to halt, Sabine dismounted carefully and approached the body hanging from the tree, but stopped once her eyes landed on the pool of blood beneath the man. She followed the path of the crimson liquid and slowly raised her hand to her mouth. The blood was dripping down from his legs.

"My god," Sabine whispered, paralyzed in horror.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the lifeless black body that was lynched, his body hanging like a torn carcass in a butcher's shop.

~~~x~~~

A day had passed since the funeral for the poor soul of Irving, the man that Sabine found lynched from a tree. Three days since the gruesome discovery. She tried to purge the memory from her head so she could sleep, but it was futile to do so. Every time her eyes slid shut, all she could see was the dead, tortured face of Irving staring back at her. The emptiness and sorrow she felt inside had slightly subsided since his funeral, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the feelings would return.

Probably stronger than before.

Sabine remembered telling the news to the grieving widow on that horrible day.

The front door flung open and the hopeful grin of the wife shattered almost immediately at the sight of Sabine's grim expression.

"I am so sorry miss," she said, and the woman knows she means it.

A small, soft wail rushed past the woman's lips and expired in the air before she caught herself on the door frame.

The little breakfast Sabine had that morning found its way into the bottom of a wooden bucket.

"Has she left her room at all today?"

"No,"

Sabine laid in her bed in the dark, her curtains drawn close, listening to Josef and Bastien conversing quietly outside her door. She could only imagine the worried expressions etched on their faces. She was full of thirst and didn't notice it. She hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday and barely any rest. But she didn't care. Sabine had woke up with a slight headache that would throb sharply at her temples every once in awhile, but yet again, she didn't care.

"Sabine," Bastien called gently. "May I come in?" he asked, maintaining the same tone.

She didn't respond.

A sigh escaped him, "I'm going to come in now, okay?" he called out.

When the door opened, her back was facing him, she's sure that Bastien can hear her uneven breathing, but for a few seconds after he closed the door he doesn't say anything. A sliver of sunlight slipped into her room through the curtains and shone down on her foot. Sabine focused on it, waiting for him to say something. His footsteps echoed in her room before he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, a safe distance from her.

"I-I can't erase that man's mutilated body from my memory," Sabine spoke finally, her voice hoarse. "His lifeless eyes-" she went on, choking back a sob.

She rolled her body over to face Bastien, tears streaking down her cheeks. He moved himself closer to Sabine, a concerned look on his face as he positioned himself by her side. Bastien reached out, softly wiping the tears from her face with the calloused pad of his thumb.

He exhaled heavily, "Come here," he ordered softly.

Sabine rose from her bed, kicking off her covers and crawled over to him, nestling herself into his lap. Bastien embraced her, pressing a kiss on top of her head. Wrapping her arms around him, Sabine took in his warmth as she began crying softly into his shoulder, her tears staining his shirt.

"Shh, you're okay. Shh, you're okay," he repeated, rubbing her back soothingly.

Finding the man's body evoked unpleasant memories for Sabine. She was seventeen when it happened.

Her and Genevieve had returned from the French Quarter after doing some dress shopping for the older woman. Traveling down the path to the Martin House all Sabine could see was slaves hard at work, laboring before dawn. Hundreds of black bodies hunched over in the fields, others tending to cattle and cleaning up manure, and some working the stables. Just as she went to face forward, something had caught her eye.

The Whipping Tree.

And from one of the branches, a runaway slave hanging from it.

His body was surrounded by a rowdy bunch, the overseers, who always seemed ready to go after any slave that attempted to escape. Almost excited one would say. They always had their larges, vicious dogs straining at their leashes to sink their teeth into the flesh of slaves. As the carriage grew closer to the tree, Sabine could see bite marks littered on both his legs.

She could feel her stomach begin to twist itself in knots.

"I'm sorry you had to see such brutality," Bastien murmured into her hair. "I should have never let you leave this bed that morning," he continued, letting his fingers run through her locks.

Sabine stirred, slightly lifting her head from his shoulder, "Who knows how long before someone found his body if it weren't for me coming across it," she replied, in a hushed tone, no longer shedding any tears. "His body would've been left the to the elements and vultures," she went on. "He was already tortured and then murdered, his body didn't deserve any further desecration," she finished,

He sighed loudly, "You're right," Bastien agreed, nodding his head. "This whole ordeal is just...awful," he breathed.

"My biggest regret is that Solomon and Bonnie were apart of my discovery," Sabine stated, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, it is a macabre rite of passage that all colored folks go through," she informed mirthlessly. "Something like this happening to them was inevitable," she added, leaning her forehead against his.

Bastien used the back of his finger to stroke her cheek, "You shouldn't have to though," he responded, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"America says otherwise," Sabine retorted, removing her forehead

"We could move to the city," Bastien suggested. "Live somewhere on the east coast," he guessed, now running his fingers up and down her thigh.

"We?" Sabine echoed, slightly quirking her eyebrow. "You mean just the two of us?" she questioned. "A colored woman and a white man living together. That will raise more red flags than the fact that we can't die or age,"

Bastien's mouth curved upward, "I meant all of us Sabine, somewhere like New York," he clarified. "You've always said you wanted to live there,"

"New York is still in this country Bash," Sabine pointed out. "Living in cities doesn't safeguard you from potentially being lynched,"

"But it's a significant improvement compared to living out here," he remarked, and all Sabine could do was hum. "We could use a change of scenery, couldn't we?"

"Going from the beautiful frontier to endless rows of brick buildings and the air smelling like sewage," Sabine commented sarcastically. "Sounds like a dream,"

"But cities have electricity," Bastien replied, grinning at her.

"I do miss hot running water," Sabine said wistfully.

Bastien pulled back from her slightly, "Sabine," he began, his large, strong hands clutching her head. "Wherever we end up, I want you to know that I will do everything to keep you safe and protect you from anyone who wishes you harm," he declared gently, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

"My very own knight in shining armor," she chuckled.

"Yes, exactly that," he answered, smiling himself.

Slowly he bent down, resting his lips first on her forehead, then her nose, and finally coming to a halt as his lips met hers. Sabine inhaled sharply before relaxing into his the kiss and once she did the whole world and all its worries seemed to melt away. Her arms looped themselves around his neck as her body moved closer and closer to his until they were perfectly molded against each other, nothing could get between them. Sabine happily embraced the overwhelming warmth that grew from the pit of her stomach, spreading through the rest of her body like a blanket that had been wrapped tightly around her.

Bastien's lips were a bit rough and chapped against her own, but Sabine didn't care. The way he delicately held her, the way he carefully pressed his lips against hers making Sabine burn with delight. All she could feel at the moment was blissful happiness. Finally, the two pulled away, slightly panting and a shared pause of silence fell between Sabine and Bastien, the two of them simply staring at each other.

He brushed strands of hair from her face, "I'll let you get some rest," Bastien said, tucking it behind her ear and gently depositing her back onto her bed.

As he rose up, Sabine grabbed his hand. It felt so warm and in hers.

"No, I would very much prefer it if you stayed," she argued softly, looking at him with tired, red eyes.

"Of course," he said, nodding his head.

Bastien climbed back onto her bed, positioning himself with his back against the wall and grabbing the thick blanket that had been discarded to the side. Sabine scooted over to where he was sitting and curled up on her side, placing her head on his lap. The feeling of a blanket being thrown on top of her soon followed afterwards. Bastien began rubbing circular motions on her back, helping her relax for the first time in days. Even better, it was coaxing her to sleep. Sabine's eyelids felt heavy and she quickly found it hard to keep them open as they drooped lower and lower. The sound of her door opening didn't even bother her as Bastien let out a soft 'shh' to whoever it was.

“Sweet dreams Sabine,”

Chapter Thirteen: A Simple Lover’s Quarrel

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