#and so i gave in after almost two months of being able to resist

[lovsome]

just gonna vent for a sec please dont mind me

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[glitterjay]

I’m begging for part two of gynaecologist!sunghoon 😦

⭒ protected sex, down bad sunghoon, he does all the work, pussy drunk, situationship, cussing, suggestive content mdni

⭒ c's note: gynecologist hoon is doing something to me... p.s pt.1 is here. reblogs are appreciated!

⭒ taglist (open): @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @enhabooks @jaylaxies

it had been around five months since you made your appointments with the gynecologist, specifically requesting sunghoon to be the doctor attending to you. in the passage of that time, you both had been hooking up in that office after your checkups, and it just stayed like that. you had established that you did not want anything serious, and hoon was fine with that as long as you let him keep touching your body.

you had found out that he was a perv. he would rail you up while he was doing your monthly checkups and then use the excuse that you were needy and that he, as a good man and doctor, should help you. he also reassured you that he did not do this with other patients. there was just something about you that had him obsessed. all of his "attributes" were reserved for you, his favorite patient.

and that explains why you were laying with your back flat on his desk as sunghoon aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance. it was different this time, and your excitement had you pooling with arousal. it was usually him fingering you or eating you out, but he had finally broken. he was going to do what he had been longing to do this entire time, and you were going to be able to feel him in you.

the condom around his cock felt cold against your skin, making you shiver. sunghoon was already groaning at how tightly you were swallowing just the tip. it was a feeling that only fed his obsession with you and your body. he felt like he could go crazy, resisting the urge to just ram into you without mercy.

he was staying calm for your own sake, soothingly massaging your hip to ease the pain of getting stretched by his fat cock. "you're taking me in so- mhm! so well."

once you gave him a green light to move, he went on with almost everything he had. almost because if he went with full force, he'd break you in half. "feels just as good as i fucking imagined."

sunghoon was sweet in general, giving you presents and insisting on getting you jewelry as a thank-you. you were spoiled even though all you did was hook up with him once a month. he always said he had to do the work and that all you had to do was feel good.

but after five full months of feeling your walls tighten around his fingers and tongue, the desire to feel his dick being swallowed whole by your walls grew and grew.

sunghoon covered your mouth with his hand, noticing how high and loud your moans had become. he had learned this was your sign of getting close to your release.

his thrusts became hard and fast, trying to align his own release with yours. "hoon, i- fuck! i can't hold it!"

"let it go, princess. show me how good I made you feel."

his deep and hoarse voice threw you over the edge. your head threw back, eyes rolled back as your hands held his arms, holding your hip. with one last thrust, sunghoon pushed his own hip as hard as he could, having the tip of his cock touch a sensitive spot that sent your body into a spasming spiral.

he came in the condom, throwing his head back as he kept you in place with his strong arms. he was quick to pull out, getting the condom off and tying a knot to throw it in his trash can. he kissed your thighs all the way to your tummy, causing you to sigh with every touch.

rhe aftercare was always nice. he would wash you up, again not letting you do anything. he'd dress you back up and let you have a moment to compose yourself before walking out as if nothing had happened.

"i'll see you next month, sweetheart."

© glitterjay | tumblr

[dragonsfictavern]

Brighter Than The Sun

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: I have no idea if this was a prompt I saw somewhere or if this was completely out of my brain, the idea was from months ago and I finally got around to writing it.

summary: With the parasite no longer in your brains, Astarion can no longer go into the sun. You try everything you can think of to help him experience the same heat but with no luck. Until you think to use yourself as a means for Astarion to feel the suns warmth once more.

word count: 1.7k

From the shadows he watches you, his red eyes almost gleaming and noticeable through the darkness. He stands behind the door, watching you, waiting for you… He needs you and yet he knows you need to stay away, if only for a little while longer. Long enough to get what he wants.

Astarion stands behind the door of the home you two share together in Baldur's Gate. With the parasite long gone and his ascension a trickle of a memory, Astarion has long since been unable to walk in the sun. It spurns him once more as if his mask had been unveiled and even the sun could see what he truly was. While on the other hand, darkness has greeted him back like an old friend and he remains cursing it.

More than anything he yearns to once more see the color in the world, to feel its warmth on his cold skin. But even after years of searching, he feels as though you two aren’t any closer to finding a cure, from ridding him of the curse forced upon him so long ago. Even so, his mind stays focused on the task and it touches him deeply that it remains in yours as well.

Which is what has brought along today’s events. When reality had first set in, Astarion couldn’t ever explain the despair he felt toward never being able to feel the sun’s warmth again. But he didn’t have to explain. He knew you understood, he knew you saw him for all he was. You have for probably much longer than he gave you credit for. Always the one to try and fix things, Astarion wasn’t surprised when you tried thinking of clever ways he’d be able to feel the sunlight again. You had tried creating the hottest of fires and yet it didn’t feel the same. Nothing ever felt the same. Astarion had given up and urged you to do the same. He should’ve known you well enough by now to know that wasn’t something you were capable of.

So this morning when you began guiding him toward the door, Astarion briefly questioned if he was being led to his demise. If you had finally gotten tired of him and decided to end it all. Of course you hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Who’d ever get tired of him, after all… He only resisted briefly until you ended up explaining your entire plan to him. To have you stand in the sun and then shut the door and hug him. So that way, he may once again feel the heat of the sun against warm flesh.

Astarion’s heart swelled, lips parted as he struggled to react and while he still couldn’t quite express his gratitude and affections out loud, he knew he could show you them through his actions and it would always mean just as much. He may have thought the plan ridiculous, silly even, but it was your attempt that moved him. The way you never gave up on him. Now here you two are, you out in the sun as he lurks in the depths of the shadows. Astarion’s lips part as he watches you bask in the sunlight's rays, your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face.

Whilst always beautiful, Astarion remains even more assured that you are most beautiful in the sun. His feelings toward you both similar in the weight you hold in his heart. His eyes trial over your form, looking on as the sunlight highlights your complexion, the sun shimmering across your skin. The way it flickers off of you, making you appear even more brighter and full of life. Astarion watches it all, his attentions never having been more focused. He couldn’t dare look away from you and miss a moment of this.

You were so close and yet so far and as Astarion looked upon your beauty, memories from before starts flooding through his mind of him out there with you. Astarion couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to you. He didn’t think, too caught up in how much he wanted you near. Not because of the sun but simply because you were you.

As his hand falls into a faint sliver of sun, instead of the comforting warmth he has shamefully become accustomed to, the familiar burning radiates across his skin. The sound of his skin sizzling rang in the quiet air and instead of peace the sun now brings panic, causing Astarion to release a high-pitched hiss. You jump, opening your eyes and looking over at him as Astarion quickly draws his hand back. You take a step to him but he uses that same hand to motion for you to stop.

“No! Don’t come closer. Just stay out there… for a little while longer,” Astarion pleads, brows furrowing deeply. It wasn’t until this moment, this instant where he’s reminded of the pain the sun has the power to inflict upon him, that he thinks your once silly idea may actually be important.

“Astarion-“ You try, tilting your head, eyes on his crackling hand that already starts to heal itself. But it’s one shake from his head that has you quieting. The softness in his gaze that has you stopping from stepping into his darkness. You look over him before giving a tentative nod. Your body turns back toward the sun within the space of the open door, but your eyes occasionally flicker over to him.

His fingers press into the flesh as it returns to its original smooth texture, the only trace of it being the faint throbbing that was already starting to fade too. As Astarion stares at you as you stand in the one place he could not reach you, despair flowers in his chest like a plague. You two are so different. While dealing with the parasite, while able to walk into the sun, Astarion could simply ignore it, not think about it because there were so many other important things to think about. Could push their differences aside in order to use you, then eventually love you.

But all that was gone now. You could walk in the day while he was stuck in the shadows. Even while only inches away, to Asatrion, it was like he could see an invisible barrier set between you both. A force that stops him from being with you, touching you. Something he could never cross so long as he was like this— a vampire spawn.

He was not good for you, he knew. All this time, Astarion allowed himself to be greedy, convinced himself that you need him as much as he needs you. But his love was doing exactly what the dark was doing to him. Trapping you. He was sure that if your heart wasn’t so big, you’d be out in the sun more often. Like you deserved.

Then you did the most peculiar thing. In a flash, you were closing the door, objecting yourself to the dark, and you reach for him. One hand wrapping around his waist as the other grips the nape of his neck. Both use their strength to pull him into you. Before Astarion can process what’s happening, you’re hugging him.

Warmth radiates off your skin and spreads over his. You guide Astarion’s head into your neck, letting him feel all the heat the sun left on you. Now, after this time being with him, Astarion doesn’t hesitate to hug you back. His arms wrap around you firmly as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I could feel you thinking from all the way over there,” your smooth voice washes over him, making warmth spread within him as well as across his body. He burrows closer to you, soaking up everything your skin was offering. He could imagine the fierce sun and how it must have felt upon first contact. But somehow, when it was you providing it instead of the sun, it was better. So much better.

He finally had you in his arms and the fog that moments prior were tormenting him now clear away. As you imply, he was thinking too much. He was spiraling and second guessing himself and even worse, you. He knows that you would never truly do something you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be with him unless it’s what you wanted. He didn’t have the power to trap you and he would never want it. While he can’t deny your differences, he also can’t say they’re a bad thing. He likes that you’re not the same person. Although, Astarion would dare say he’d make a lovely suitor for himself if the chance arose.

“What ever are you talking about, darling?” Releasing a light-hearted chuckle along with the question. Astarion’s hand brushes along your neck as well, the skin feeling even warmer here. Everything in him tells him to hide his feelings, to brush them aside and offer a short quip. While he knows he’ll end up telling you everything later, right now he can’t help but evade the vulnerability that was controlling him.

“Oh, I must be seeing things, then,” you tease right back, understanding Astarion and playing along with it. Astarion closes his eyes, gratefulness filling his body and pouring out in his physical contact with you.

“Hmm, must get that checked out,” he shoots back, not able to stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. You both end up laughing together and the peace that spreads through the atmosphere around you two reminds him why he never ends up keeping anything from you anymore. He learned his lesson once before.

The two of you fall into a peaceful silence as you remain hugging in the darkness. Your skin quickly grows colder again, losing what your time in the sun left you with. Even so, neither of you step away from the hug.

“You know, out of all the ways you’ve attempted to give me back sunlight, I have to say, this is by far my favorite,” Astarion admits, moving to rest his forehead against yours. The warmth he feels with you blazes hotter than any sun could ever supply him. He hears as your heart picks up and your neck once again becomes warmer than the rest of your body. Astarion does not hold back his grin, informing you of his awareness, yet remains still as he enjoys what he can get.

Astarion keeps you close as he realizes that any lack of sun is worth it when he gets moments like this in return.

[mavsstar]

｡･ﾟ𝐎𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Summary︱Ransom comes to spend the holidays with his twin brother, Andy and his fiancé. He can't stand her at all despite her being one of the sweetest people on the earth. Turns out all they needed was to bond.

Pairings︱Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Virgin!Fem!Reader

W.C︱2.8k

Warnings︱It's Ransom, that a big warning in itself, cursing, kissing, pet name: kitten, manipulation, slight coercion (if you blink you'll miss it), oral (f!), cheating, daddy kink

Author's note︱It's been too long and now I'm finally back! This was fun to make and I've had this idea in my head for weeks now! Have fun reading :) Feedback is appreciated!

You adored your fiancé Andy, he was a kindhearted gentleman that loved you with his entire being. You couldn’t ask for more in a man. Everyone around him approved of you and liked you quite a lot.

Well most of them. 

The only person who couldn’t get on board was his twin, Ransom. Though the feelings were mutual. You thought he was too crude and he thought you were too much of a prude. Unlike him, you’ve never vocalized your dislike towards him, preferring to be kind to him even if you wanted to sew his mouth shut. 

The good part was you rarely got to see the man. You were safe from seeing his face anywhere you went. That was until Andy came home with a surprise. 

“Ransom is going to spend the holidays with us this year.” 

You froze. “Excuse me?” 

“There’s too much going on and I won’t be able to make it home this year and Ransom doesn’t want to go spend the holidays with the family,” Andy began to explain, “I don't want him to be alone so I invited him to stay with us.” 

“Which holidays?” You asked, hoping it would just be Thanksgiving. 

“All of them.” 

It felt like someone dropped an anvil on you. He was going to spend at least a month with you in your shared house, day and night. “And he said yes?” You questioned, surprised he even gave Andy an answer. 

“I was surprised too,” he answered. “He’s coming on Thursday.” 

It was Tuesday, meaning you only had a day to prepare. You dropped your shoulders in defeat. “I better start preparing the guest room,” you said as you got up from the couch. 

Andy grabbed your arm as you tried to walk past him, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Look I know you two aren’t the best of friends and it’ll be difficult but I want him here with us. Maybe after he really gets to know you, you’ll get along.”

“There’s a better chance of me growing another inch than us getting along.” 

Thursday came a little bit too fast for your liking. One moment you were talking with Andy about Ransom and within a blink of an eye you were at the airport, waiting for him. His flight landed 15 minutes ago and most of the passengers were already off. But he just had to make a fashionably late entrance. 

“There’s my little brother!” Ransom exclaimed. 

“You’re older by a minute,” Andy said as he got up from his seat. 

“A minute and 10 seconds.” Ransom’s answer made Andy playfully roll his eyes. Ransom then turned his attention to you, flashing you a fake smile. “Look who’s here! Did you shrink while I was away? I almost didn’t see you.” 

It was early in the morning. Even more so to be dealing with Ransom’s remarks. You resisted the burning urge to roll your eyes at him. “It’s nice to see you Ransom, I hope you had a nice flight.” 

“It was the absolute worst actually-” He began to complain but it all became white noise to your brain. You just nodded your head as he complained, occasionally saying that must’ve sucked just to make it seem like you were actually paying attention. 

For the first couple of days Andy was able to keep him busy and out of your way but he had to go back to work, leaving you with him all day. At first he would stay for only part of your day, often going out to do something other than being in the house with you. Eventually he just stayed around the house more and more. 

“Are you seriously reading again?” Ransom asked as he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

You quickly tore your gaze from your book to look at Ransom. “Mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, going back to reading your book. 

“Weren’t you just reading this morning?” He asked. 

“I was finishing the last couple of pages. Andy doesn’t like it when I lose sleep to finish reading,” you answered. “This is a different book.” 

“Can I see?”’ He asked with complete sincerity. You then handed him the book only for him to throw it across the room, earning a small ‘Hey!’ from you. “Well stop reading, I’m bored.” 

“What do you want to do?” You asked him as you fully turned your body towards his. 

“If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be here, telling you I’m bored.” 

You decided to ignore his comment and pretend like he never said it in the first place. “Well…we could go grocery shopping.” 

“Grocery shopping? Really?” He questioned, unamused at your suggestion. Much to his dismay, he saw that you were 100% serious. “Fine, let's go.” 

The drive to the grocery store was longer than necessary. Ransom refused to let you drive, part of you figured it was an ego thing but he claimed that a man should always drive. Never the woman. He also refused to use a map, claiming that he knew where he was going. 

After 25 minutes of driving in circles, you finally got to the grocery store. It was practically empty, not a lot of people wanted to do their weekly grocery shopping at 7:27 pm. 

“Now that I’ve been thinking about it, you’re always at the house,” Ransom commented. “Do you not have a job?” 

“Not anymore,” you said as you pushed the cart towards the dairy section. “I used to be a secretary.” 

“Why’d you quit?” 

“Andy said I didn’t have to work anymore and he would take care of me.” You grabbed a gallon of milk and crossed it off your mental grocery list. You started to push the cart down the section towards the produce. “It was too overwhelming for me and Andy didn’t like that I was so stressed out.” 

“How hard can that be?” Ransom scoffed. 

“It’s a lot harder than you think Ransom,” you replied. “It didn’t help that I was one of the few women there. I had a terrible boss.” 

“What do you do all day then? Just sit there and look pretty while you wait for Andy to come home?” 

“I clean, run some errands, go out—I do the same things you do but you don’t seem the type of person to clean or run errands.” 

“Why would I?” He scoffed. “That's why I hired a maid and an assistant to do all that for me.” 

“Not surprised trust fund baby,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What did you say?” Ransom asked, having fully heard you. 

You looked up at him, “Oh nothing,” you lied, you even went as far as to pull out doe eyes. “Oh we need bread!” 

 “No, no, no,” Ransom repeated as he grabbed your upper arm, halting you from moving any further. “Repeat what you said.” 

“I said we need bread.” 

“Before that.” 

“I said nothing,” you answered, unknowingly pushing his buttons in the sweetest way imaginable. 

His hand traveled up your upper arm to your cheeks, slightly squishing them together as he inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“Kitten, repeat what you said, I’m not going to ask again.” 

Your lips parted open but no sound came out. You felt heat pooling from the pit of your stomach rising to your face. You tried to peel your eyes away from his only for him to chase after them. 

“I-I said, not surprised trust fund baby,” you mumbled loud enough so he could hear it.  

The corner of his lip tugged into a sly smirk, “See now was that so hard?” He asked as he dropped his hand. “Good girl.” 

Ransom evoked a spark inside him that night. He noticed how your body went hot under his touch and he loved it. It was as if you have been untouched and you’re just now tasting a man’s touch. You would grow shy under his gaze if he stared at you for too long. You would jump every time his hands brushed your body. 

Ransom’s favorite part was when he would inch his face close to yours and your eyes would dart to his lips right before going back to his eyes. 

Though part of him couldn’t help but think it was all an act. There was no possible way a woman like you could be so innocent. That you would pretend to get flustered everytime he made a sexual innuendo. That you would get uncomfortable and squirm in your seat everytime a sex scene came on. 

It had to be an act. 

Like right now, you were in the kitchen cooking food for you and Ransom. You were wearing Andy’s sweater with a pair of small pj shorts and Ransom had made a crude comment. 

“You and Andy must've had crazy kitchen counter sex if that’s what you wear to cook.” 

“Oh my,” you squeaked out. “We don’t–uh–Andy and I-” 

“Oh please drop the act,” he scoffed.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What act?” 

“That!” Ransom exclaimed. “The pretending you’re all innocent and being such a fucking prude. Everyone has sex, it’s normal.” 

Except you haven’t had sex yet. You always wanted to wait until marriage for personal reasons and Andy didn’t mind one bit. He completely respected your decision and liked the idea of waiting, it’s building tension the two of you would unleash on your wedding night. 

“It’s not an act Ransom,” you answered. “I just don’t feel comfortable talking about…it.”

“You’re kidding me right?” He remarked. He took your silence as a no. Then the realization slowly crept in his mind. “Unless…” 

“Unless what?” You questioned. 

“Unless you’re a virgin? But that’s impossible…right?” His tone was teasing and almost humiliating. 

You felt the shame burn your cheeks and you imagined the words ‘virgin’ written in big red bold letters across your forehead. People have assured you that it’s okay to be a virgin and everyone takes life at a different speed. You were just getting comfortable with it. 

“Answer me kitten.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

Ransom swallowed the last 4 steps that were between the two of you. His right hand went under your chin, softly lifting it up. “So he’s never touched you?” Ransom asked as his left hand slowly began to graze your body. 

“No.” Your breath hitched when his large hand rested on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You bumped into his chest with a soft grunt. His hands went to your back when he felt you shift backwards, caging you against him.

“Please let me go Ransom,” you softly pleaded as you tried to pry him off. 

“No,” he said as his head dipped to your neck, placing fervent kisses. “You want this and you know it.” 

“No–ngh–I can’t do this to Andy.” 

Ransom stopped the attack on your neck. You could see it in his face that he was bothered at the mention of his twin brother. “We’re not doing anything bad, kitten. We’re just having fun, you want us to get along, don’t you?” 

“This is bad Ransom, I’m cheating on my fiance,” you protested. “I can’t do this.” Ransom had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to lose you. He refused to. 

“Andy’s cheating on you,” he blurted out. 

“What?” You questioned him. 

“It’s obvious, kitten. How else was he going to stay with you? He’s a man after all and men have needs.” 

"You’re lying,” you argued. “Why should I believe you?” 

“Because I’m his brother and I know the type of person he is.” His hands went underneath your sweater, slithering their way up to your breasts. “So I think we can have some fun. It wouldn’t be fair after all.” 

Ransom’s lips crashed onto yours before you could give an answer. You tasted like the strawberries you were eating just mere minutes ago. With every passing second, his kisses grew hungrier. 

“Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obeyed and lifted yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly stumbled into your bedroom. Carefully, he set you on the bed and unbeknownst to you, he had taken off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 

His warmed calloused hand went to your thighs, spreading them as fast apart as he could. You were completely soaked. Ransom bit back a moan. “Oh kitten,” he purred. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” Ransom planted open mouth kisses on your ankle, working his way up to your inner thighs. Your head felt dizzy and your body was high off of his touch. When you felt Ransom kiss your cunt, you knew you were a goner. 

“Ransom,” you moaned out. 

“That’s not my name kitten,” Ransom murmured. He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he licked around your pussy lips. “It���s daddy. Now say it.” 

“Please daddy,” you whined. 

“If you stop saying it, I stop. Got it?” 

You rapidly nodded your yes, not trusting your own voice. You let out a strangled moan as Ransom licked a broad stripe against your pussy. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Ransom let out a moan of satisfaction, sending vibrations through you, making it more pleasurable than you ever imagined. 

Incoherent babbles left your mouth as he made precise, figure eights on your clit. You couldn’t help but lock your legs around his head, never wanting him to leave. You lazily propped yourself up on the bed to watch Ransom but it all went out the window when his lips sucked on your clit. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, your head falling back on the mattress. “Daddy! Feel s’good!” 

Ransom momentarily lifted his head, watching your blissed out state. “I know it does kitten,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Andy could never make you feel like this huh?” 

“No.” 

“I wonder how he would feel that I’m eating his pretty fiancé’s pussy? Making her scream daddy.” Ransom dipped his head back down and went at it again.

 His tongue goes through your fold, licking all your sweet wetness. You felt a familiar sensation only this time it was coming faster and harder. This felt nothing like this when you would play with yourself. 

“Oh daddy!” You screwed your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets. Your lower half took a mind of its own as you began to rock your hips against his face, chasing your high. A gasp fled your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Suddenly the only word you knew was daddy, repeating it as if it was a prayer. 

“How was that, kitten?” Ransom teasingly asked. “Did daddy make you feel good?” 

“Mhm,” you blissfully hummed out. “S’good.” 

“That’s my girl,” Ransom praised as he pulled your shorts back up. “You did so good for me.” Ransom enjoyed watching you, you were spaced out and he didn’t even put his all into it. He could only begin to imagine how you would react when he really got done with you. 

“Now let's go finish cooking before Andy comes home.” He kissed you lips one more time before helping you off the bed.

Andy surprisingly came home earlier than he said he would. Usually would come home at 12, it was currently 10:06 pm. You had barely finished washing the dishes when you heard the door unlock.

“Hi honey!” Andy greeted you as walked over to kiss you. You turned your head to the side and his lips collided with your cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned at your behavior. 

“Nothing,” you answered. “I’m heading off to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnighttt,” Ransom sang as you left the room. 

“Goodnight Ransom.” 

Andy waited until you left the room to talk to Ransom. Once he saw he was in the clear, he turned to Ransom. “What the hell did you say to her?” 

“Nothing, why?”  Ransom asked, playing the innocent. “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Drop the act Ransom.” Andy stepped closer to him, placing his hands on his hips. “We were fine a couple days ago and now she’s acting weird. What did you do to her?” 

“I did nothing,” he said as he raised his hands in defense. 

Andy knew he was lying. If he really was telling the truth, he would’ve told him off and stormed off cursing at how his own brother doesn’t believe him. 

“Stay away from her,” Andy seethed through gritted teeth. “Don;t even think about laying a finger on her.” 

“Or what? You’re going to kick me out?” Ransom scoffed. “I saw her first and you took her away from me. I’m simply getting back what’s mine.” 

[toomuchracket]

totally wrecked (d word matty x reader smut)

(yo. you should all know what this is, because you voted for it, but if not... a loooong one, full of unprotected bathroom counter sex, mirror fingering, cumplay, and a tiny little bit of the d word being used. FIRMLY 18+, because it's filthy lmao. ok love you all hope you enjoy <3)

"fuck, you're tight. i don't think - shit, so fucking good, taking me so fucking well - fuck, i don't think i'm going to last much longer, princess."

you can barely hear matty speak, despite the fact your face is tucked into the crook of his neck and you can feel the vibrations of his words (well, moans) against your flushed cheek. he's fucking you relentlessly on top of the granite bathroom counter in his hotel suite, and the wet, slapping sound of his hips driving into yours is the most audible thing in the room; it's so loud, in fact, that it almost drowns out the saturday night soundtrack of the new york city streets outside. it's only been a week since you last saw (and fucked) your boyfriend, but the way he's got your legs wrapped like a vice around his waist and desperately pulls your bum forward to meet his powerful thrusts... one would think you hadn't seen him in months.

although, the way matty's been railing you nonstop through multiple orgasms so far probably has less to do with the time you've spent apart and more to do with what's happened since you reunited two hours ago - namely, the ruined handjob you gave him in the shower, bringing him (slightly sleepy, extremely sappy, and thus putty in your hands) to the edge of release twice, but stopping your motions before any orgasm could properly hit. before you could go for a third time, however, matty snapped and lifted you onto the counter you're currently perched on the edge of. in stark contrast to your teasing method of orgasm deprivation, his means of retaliation is to overload you with them, making you cum over and over and over, until you're teetering on the verge of tears, consciousness, sanity itself. and it's working; you're whimpering with every movement of matty's hips, your brain so clouded from constant pleasure that you genuinely fear you won't be able to function at all if you loosen your grasp on his curls and his back.

sudden pressure on your clit tears a scream from your scratchy throat, making your head snap back in shock. matty - looking as fucked out as you feel, flushed and sweaty and gorgeous as ever - has the absolute cheek to smile sweetly at you as if nothing's happening, all the while continuing to rub tiny circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves despite your body's convulsions and the whines you can't stop making. "want you to cum again for me, princess," he murmurs, voice echoed by a moan. "need you to be a good girl and cum all over my dick for me, make me cum. you'd - fuck, you're so wet - you'd do that for me, wouldn't you, be my good girl? think i deserve it, since you wouldn't let me cum earlier."

oh, he's fucking sick. he's also right - he does deserve you being good for him, but even the mere thought of another orgasm has you almost blacking out. so you shake your head violently, tears spilling out over your lower lashline and splattering all over you and matty and the counter. "can't, i can't do it, too - mmm - sensitive."

"yeah you can, princess, you can do it," matty coos, the softness in his voice and eyes a total juxtaposition to the brutal pace he's fucking you at. he leans in to give you a quick kiss, and despite your despair at his behaviour you return it eagerly. "just one more for me, sweetheart, that's all i'm asking. what's one more orgasm, after all the others i've given you today, hmm? c'mon, you can do it a final time, my perfect girl, cum for me one more time. please?"

it's the plea that does you in - you're incapable of resisting matty when he goes all sweet on you. and for the second time in probably as many minutes - although you're so dazed that your grasp on the passage of time is probably ballerina-slender at best - he's right. as soon as matty's encouragement begins, so too does the rapid increase of heat in your core, growing and growing with every thrust or clit-circle from your boyfriend. with a cry of "shit, shit, matty!", it explodes into light; you're a supernova, a collapsing star, kept only from falling into an exhaustion-induced black hole by matty's hold on your body.

as you cum for the final time, his hand moves from your clit to behind your head, silently but lovingly nudging you back into the crook of his neck as he chases his own release. the gravitational pull from your own orgasm means he doesn't have far to go, though - within seconds, matty's gasping out your name, thrusts faltering as the pleasure in his body reaches its peak. "'m so fucking close, fuck, babe. where d'you want me?"

"inside, fill me up," you whine into matty's neck, still reeling from the shockwaves of your own ending. on nothing more than base instinct, you suck a mark into the spot your lips have recently inhabited, grazing your teeth over it - at that, matty groans, holding both your hips to get as deep inside you as he can and fulfil your request of being filled with his release. you feel heat in your core again as he does, but this is no stellar demise; it's a rekindling, leaving the two of you glowing with satisfaction.

while he's still inside you, matty's hands slide up from your hips so that he can wrap his arms around your waist. yours slide down from his hair and upper back to copy him, and the two of you just stay clutching each other wordlessly until your breathing regulates and your vision is less blurry and everything feels a bit more... real. matty presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead, then another to the tip of your nose, and finally one on your lips. "did so well for me, sweetheart, thank you. i love you."

"i love you too. thank you baby, that was amazing," you smile sleepily at your boyfriend, who takes the chance to kiss you again with a smile to match your own. "gonna be sore tomorrow, though."

"i'll take care of you, my darling, don't you worry," matty says, brushing your (likely horrendously messy) hair from your face. "d'you feel up for having a bath now? might help prevent some of the aching."

"mmm, yeah, that sounds nice."

"alright, sweetheart, whatever you want," matty takes both your hands in his own and kisses each of them in turn, which elicits a giggle from you. "gonna pull out now, ok?"

you nod, shuffling your now-numb backside as best you can to brace yourself for the imminent discomfort. still holding your hands, matty hisses as he detaches his hips from your own; you wince at the loss of him, but the feeling passes as quickly as it came on. "that wasn't so bad - babe, are you ok?"

your question falls on deaf ears, as your boyfriend does nothing but stare down between your still-open legs as if entranced. his already-dark eyes are still black with lust, both pupils and eyelids wider than normal. when you brush your fingers against his face, matty snaps out of his little reverie and turns his head to kiss your palm with a tender smile, but his gaze falls back to your core within seconds. you giggle, and only then do his eyes flick up to your face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he begins, sheepish tone almost comical in comparison to the dominance he displayed over you less than five minutes ago. "just can't get over how perfect you look with my cum dripping out of you. still not used to it - don't think i ever will be, to be honest."

"jesus christ, you're such a boy sometimes," you grin, rolling your eyes despite the shivers of arousal that rolled down your spine at matty's words.

"you know full well i'm a man, princess, thank you very much" comes your boyfriend's indignant reply, accompanied by a light flick to your thigh.

"like i could ever forget, with that daft tattoo."

"negativity? pretty bold for a woman who just let me creampie her, no?"

you fake retch. "if you ever refer to it as that in future, matthew, you're never doing it to me ever again."

"fuck, ok. i'm sorry, sweetheart," matty presses little kisses all over your face in effusive apology, pulling giggles and contented little hums from you. "horrible word, i agree. uncouth."

you snort. "you really like cumming inside me, huh? never seen you cave for anything so quickly."

"baby, it's the sexiest thing on the fucking planet," matty grins, kissing your head. he taps your bum once. "turn around for me and have a look, yeah?"

you lean up to kiss matty quickly, murmuring an "ok" against his lips, before lifting your legs onto the counter and beginning the awkward swivel to look in the mirror on the wall. the granite is so wide and smooth that you technically should be able to turn 180 degrees no problem, but the shaky numbness of your legs hinders you slightly - matty helps by grabbing and adjusting your hips, then spreading your legs, standing flush against your back to ensure you don't fall backwards. and when you see yourself, you almost do, out of sheer shock.

it's not that you look bad; in fact, it's the opposite. you look like sex itself. yeah, your cheeks are ruby-woo-red and your hair is perhaps the least neat it's ever been, but you look ridiculously hot like this, fucked-out and messy, all heaving chest and sparkling eyes and kiss-bitten lips and a sense of incredible pleasure just radiating from you. but perhaps the most erotic thing about your appearance is the little drops of white trailing down your ruined core, juices from a summer nectarine. is it anywhere near as sweet?

"matty," you whisper, still staring at the sight between your legs. "i want to know what we taste like. can i?"

"fuck," matty groans, bowing his head so his forehead is pressed against the back of yours. he inhales deeply, then leans to rest his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck lightly. "whatever you want, princess, you'll get."

with that, he brings a calloused hand round and drags the pads of his middle and ring fingers up your core, catching the drops of his own cum as he does. you whimper when they brush against your swollen, sensitive clit, which earns you a "sorry, sweetheart" and a kiss to your temple before matty's holding his fingers in front of your lips. wordlessly, and looking at matty in the mirror the whole time to see his reaction, you take his fingers into your mouth to the knuckle, dragging your tongue up and across them before sucking and releasing them with a wet pop. matty whines - actually whines - at the sensation, throwing his head back in arousal before leaning back in to kiss your neck. "good?"

you nod, savouring the salt of him and tang of you on your tongue, a little bit like one of the margaritas you had at drinks earlier. then you tilt your head towards matty and pout your lips slightly. "have a taste for yourself, angel."

matty smiles sweetly at you, before grabbing your jaw and pressing his lips to your own. so quickly and instinctively that you would be embarrassed if you weren't so turned on, your mouth opens to let his tongue in. you love all of matty's kisses, but these types are your favourite - long and sloppy and and head-spinning, matty taking up your mouth with his own so completely it's almost like he's trying to devour you. you think you'd let him; you'd let him do anything with that mouth, quite frankly.

that mouth, which you capture the bottom lip of between your teeth and release slowly, pulling back from your boyfriend purely so you can breathe. he lets out a shaky breath as you do - which inflates your ego by an astronomical degree - and murmurs your name dreamily, before wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your eyes meet again in the mirror a few seconds later, his and hers gazes trailing down your reflection to the space between your legs. you sigh when you don't see any more white trickling out of you, and matty giggles when he realises what you're irked about. "you are such a little slut and i am in love with you. are you really pouting because you can't see my cum spilling out of you anymore? incredible."

"stop itttttt," you whine, burying your face in your hands. "i just think it's hot to look at. and s'your fault that i can't, because you came so deep in me."

"generally, sweetheart, that's the point of a cr- cumming inside someone."

"i know, i know. just quite like seeing it, s'all."

"i know you do, princess, i was just teasing," matty says sweetly, resting his head on top of your own. a beat passes, then you see his pretty face light up in the way you've come to recognise as his "i'm a fucking genius" mode in the mirror. "and i've got an idea, if you're feeling up for it."

you narrow your eyes. "what?"

"well, provided you're a bit less sensitive than you were... let me finger my cum out of you."

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

another shiver of arousal rolls down the back of your neck and spine, making you sit up a bit straighter. you swallow before responding. "yeah, ok."

"you sure, sweetheart?" matty hooks his index finger under your jaw and turns your head to face him. "because if you're not feeling alright, we can go and have a bath and chill."

"no, i'm alright, babe," you say, pecking matty on the lips. "really. i'll tell you if i need to stop. i know the safeword."

"good girl," matty reciprocates your peck. "have fun, princess."

with that, his mouth is back on your neck again, lightly sucking a bruise into the soft skin while his hands come around to your boobs. calloused fingers lightly brush over your nipples at first, matty rubbing little circles into them exactly as he would on your clit - initially softly, sweetly, pressure increasing the more you moan and whine and arch your back into him. the pleasure wafting across your body is gentle, soft, a sense of contentment; that soon shifts into elation when matty suddenly pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he says "so fucking gorgeous, all spread out for me. want me to keep going?"

you whimper out a reply, hips beginning to grind into thin air. "need your fingers inside me, please, need them now."

"whatever you want, princess."

with that, matty leans around to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. this one is slightly different to the last - the underlying motivation behind it is love, not lust. you allow yourself to relax a little, bask in the glow of the love you and matty have for each other, and so you're pleasantly shocked at the sudden feeling of his middle finger teasing your entrance. "fuck, yes," you moan against matty's lips. "fuck me with it, please."

matty's other hand comes down to your left thigh, spreading it even further out as he circles your - arguably soaked - hole with the other. "watch me do it, then."

you do as you're told, gluing your eyes to your own core. with a kiss to your shoulder far too chaste for the circumstances, matty slides his finger inside you and begins to pump it slowly. "fuck, baby," he moans into your skin. "touch your tits for me, make yourself feel good. god, so fucking hot, so good for me."

with a whine, you bring your hands up to your nipples in an imitation of the motions matty was doing a moment ago - a poor imitation, but it does the trick nonetheless. and really, you could get away with doing nothing at all and still get lost in how good matty's finger feels inside you, hooking upwards before thrusting in and out increasingly quickly. but you want this to be good for him, too, so you obey; you're awarded with a "good girl, doing so fucking well for me" for your efforts, followed by a "can i add another?", to which you eagerly agree.

once matty's established a toe-curlingly good rhythm and pace with his fingers, he latches his lips onto your neck again. you watch him in the mirror, through eyes half-lidded with pleasure, as he sucks an accompanying bruise next to the existing one, forming a little heart - even hazy with a slowly-building orgasm in the base of your spine, you smile at the action. being lovey-dovey and sappy even while he's literally clawing his cum out of your cunt? it's so characteristically matty that it makes your heart melt.

it reforms into a flutter mere seconds later, though, when your boyfriend angles his hand in such a way that his fingers hit your g-spot, while his wrist presses lightly on your still-sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, jerking forward in ecstasy, while matty coos and wraps his free arm around your waist to keep you close. "oh, there she is! god, you're so good for me, princess. want me to make you cum now?"

you're nodding frantically before he can even finish speaking. "please, please, make me cum," you whimper, meeting matty's lust-filled eyes in the mirror. "been so good for you, wanna cum."

"alright."

it's incomprehensible to you how he does it, but matty speeds up his hand movements even more, cooing into your ear and calling you his "good fucking girl, perfect girl" as he does. you silently pray to any and all deities that might exist in gratitude for whoever told him to pick up a guitar and develop wrist strength back in the day, before a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach wipes your mind clean of any coherent thought. "matty, baby, m'gonna cum."

"hold it."

no fucking way. your eyes widen in horror. "what?!"

matty giggles - not maliciously, but not exactly nicely, either. "just for a second longer, princess, just so you can enjoy how good my cum feels inside you before i fuck it all out. hold it for daddy, ok?"

he's pulled the d word card. the fucking d word card.

you can't flake on him now, so you take a deep breath and continue looking at your boyfriend's reflection. "alright then."

a kiss to your temple. "good girl."

despite your best intentions to delay your orgasm, matty has no such qualms; you swear his fingering gets even faster, his dirty talk gets moanier, and the kisses he's harassing your neck with are the sexiest yet. regardless on whether that's actually true or not (although your boyfriend's slight sadistic streak makes you believe in the former), the pressure in your stomach continues to grow. you don't know if you have it in you at all to stop it.

luckily, though, the actual end goal of this little sexperiment is in sight, literally - looking down at matty's fingers thrusting into you, you notice his cum from earlier beginning to seep out around them. it's an obscenely erotic image, eliciting a synchronised moan from you and matty. he grins, panting, into your shoulder. "fuck, princess, look at you all full of me. mine, all mine, my perfect girl, the love of my life."

the combination of the sight and matty's praise is a heady one, intoxicating you, making your eyes roll back into your skull and your already aching legs quiver. teeth chattering with an impending orgasm, you manage a whimpered request. "daddy, please, please can i cum now?"

"oh, princess," matty pulls you in for a quick kiss, marvelling at the way your eyes flutter when he pulls away. "go on, cum for me, good girl."

as soon as the words leave his mouth, the elastic band of building pressure in your stomach snaps. screaming, you cling to matty's arms as he moans and works you through the orgasm, in spite of you clenching around his fingers so tightly he can barely move. he pulls them out before the aftershocks kick in, wrapping both arms around you and verbally coaxing you through your high between kisses to your face and neck and shoulders and head.

once you've stopped shaking quite so much, you snuggle into matty while the two of you catch your breath, watching streams of white liquid pour out of you. before matty has the chance, you cup your hand just below your hole to catch most of it and bring it to your mouth - he groans out a "you're fucking perfect" as you do, followed by a "beautiful, filthy girl" as you smile at him with his cum all over your lips. matty pulls you in for another kiss; ironically, this one is gentle and loving and sweet, until matty breaks it. "god, we really do taste fucking amazing. you're fucking amazing. i love you, my girl, you did so well for me."

"i love you, too. i can't believe we just did that," you say, shifting as best you can to hug your boyfriend. "can we do it again?"

"love the enthusiasm, but we need a bath first, sweetheart, i think."

"true."

[0asisbliss]

how would the PT members (chrollo, feitan, shalnark and uvogin if you don’t wanna do the whole team) react to their darling actively SH and being suicidal? *sorry if this isn’t a topic you wanna write about i completely understand*

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Not really proofread sorry.

TW: Self harm, non-con, dark themes, etc. MDNI

Shalnark:

Its was just your second month in here its was pretty fucked up regardless even if you were getting used to it or not. It wasn’t that where he made you sleep. Yeah. It was a basement, but it’s not as bad as you thought it would be when you first got here. You have a nice bed, there’s a television down here, and he gave you a journal to write in. It’s not like you can say anything in it though he goes through it almost every week.

At this point Shalnark thinks that you’re comfortable enough to sleep with him. Even though you’re far from that. Over the past two months you’ve been here you have stopped resisting him, started to lean into his touch, and even accept his kisses! In his mind this is a plus. If your going to except his psychical affection your ready to accept his cock. Right?

You knew his mindset by heart now. It was sickening how you hated him, but when he comes back from “work” you crave his affection you were also tired of living in modified basement. It made your head hurt, and you threw up in your mouth a little by the thought of even him doing those “things” to you. You didn’t have to live like this. This was something you chose to live in. Can’t it all just end? Maybe.

Not now anytime, but now. It terrified you when he came in with just his green and yellow robe on. You could tell he had no type of clothes under by the way his robe moved on his body.

“Lovely? You okay? You seem a bit tense.” He walked right past your television, and sat beside you. He looked at you before placing a hand on your thigh. He tried to play it off by laying his head on your shoulder.

“Y’know? I want to feel you a little more than usual these days it hurts me to leave you for work.”

His hand gently slid up your thigh.

“I-I have to go to the bathroom.” You barely were able to mutter out.

Shalnark said nothing and let you get up and can to the restroom down the hall of the basement.

How was he going to get to you hm? You’re such a cute little work in progress.

The next day you knew Shalnark was leaving for work because he would always tell you days before he would leave.

Shalnark left after he made you two a little breakfast.

When Shalnark got to the hideout he went over to Phinks, Nobunaga, Uvogin, and Feitan. They were talking about the upcoming mission Chrollo had given them. They all knew about Shalnark’s situation with you and when Uvogin joked about how all of them could fuck you. It gave Shalnark the best idea.

To get you more comfortable with him, and maybe even the rest of them they could take turns with you. It could even be a new beginning for you two in bed.

When Shalnark got home he invited you upstairs for dinner you were surprised to see four other men there with him. You assumed they were Shalnark’s coworkers because of how they looked. They all looked a little weird, but so did Shalnark. You waved at them and only Nobunaga, Phinks, and Uvogin waved back. Feitan only stared at you. He creeped you out a lot. At dinner you felt their stares, and heard their whispers. It wasn’t until you heard the one with long hair make a comment about you boobs is when you had excused yourself from the table not wanting to be rude and just get up.

You didn’t Shalnark had followed behind you. You went until the basement to get on of the many hidden knives. You took the knife a cut a bit into your wrist. You dragged the knife along into your arm. You winced at the pain, but in some sick way you felt better I mean this is all your fault anyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” This was the first time you heard Shalnark raised his voice at you.

He slapped the knife out of your hand and put pressure on your wound. You weren’t getting out of this basement again anytime soon. If you thought he was suffocating now just wait till you’re healed.

Chrollo:

It’s clear you’re not in your right mind at this point. Chrollo just hasn’t seen that yet. It’s like he’s clueless. You don’t even care anymore it’s tiresome. How fucking emotional dumb he is. No matter how much he’s fucked you don’t even moan anymore. Chrollo doesn’t see himself as heartless. Nor does he himself as some cruel dictator. I mean in his mind you want for nothing. You have everything you want you should be giving him your all, but no. You just lying there lifeless looking. Your lucky Chrollo’s patience isn’t terrible.

After a mission he gathers the troupe together, and talks to them about their stress levels.

They all admit to being somewhat instability stressed. He gave them a proposal. Maybe they could take turns with you? Not at the same time of course. He wouldn’t want to overwhelm his darling.

When Chrollo approached you with this idea he thought about how you feel so good. You stared blankly at Chrollo. You walked away without giving him answer you walked into the kitchen a grabbed one the sharpest knifes you could find. You took the knife in the bathroom, and rolled your shirt up exposing your stomach to the mirror. You took the knife and cut small space in your stomach. Maybe if Chrollo sees how bad you look he wouldn’t go through that gang bang shit with the troupe. You didn’t want to do it.

Chrollo would know your answer but it would go through one ear and out the other.

He wouldn’t make you do anything but when you have nine plus people standing over you what can you do other than what they tell you?

You were lost in thought you cut yourself a little to deep and more blood that usual came out of your body. It was red. Dark red. Did you hit a vein or something? You sat on the side of the bathtub, and watch as a pool of blood started to pile under you.

Chrollo was starting to worry about you and opened the bathroom door.

You were starting to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

Chrollo moved toward you quickly, and picked you up, he carried to you to your shared bedroom. He dropped you on the bed you looked at him at he has a worried expression on his face. He didn’t have to say a word you knew what he was feeling. Maybe it’s best if you do die. You can finally get out of this hell hole with him.

It was only when you saw a pink haired woman enter the room when you lost all hope. She was the one who did your checkups. She was going to save you though you didn’t want to be saved you actually wanted to die. You scooted with the last bit of strength you had away from both of them. Falling off the bed you began to crawl away. They both brought you back on the bed and looked at each other then nodded. Chrollo chained you down to the bed so Machi could stitch you up.

You weren’t going to be in as much pain as you’re in now but when Machi was done it surely wasn’t going to be pretty.

Uvogin:

Uvogin has put you through some things but his takes the cake. What the hell?

“Why are you even acting like that. You’re acting like I’m just going to let them toss you around like a sex toy.” He scoffed.

“You’re fucking acting like it! No. I don’t want to do this shit. I’m so tired of you and your bull shit. You always want me to do the most craziest shit with you.” You held your arms up as an indication of your patience being lost. Your arm was covered in a whole lot of scars.

For the first time Uvogin got sick to his stomach about you.

“What the fuck is this?”

Uvogin grabbed your arm and twisted to view it whole.

“Hey- don’t fucking touch me-.”

He might’ve showed aggression and anger, but deep down Uvogin was scared, and worried. Why the hell are you doing this to yourself? Maybe he’s too much to handle?

You should’ve told him. (You did.)

Uvogin picked you bridal style and kissed you on your forehead.

“You’re never doing that again you hear me?”

He carried you back to your shared bedroom. Tomorrow you two were going to have a long talk, even if you didn’t want to. You have no choice.

[breella]

I love your work!!!!! For a Trystan idea maybe you can do something with Tristan feeling the mate bond with Bryce’s new friend where he hits on her all the time but she thinks he’s just being nice because she’s friends with Bryce… then he sees her all dressed up at one of their house parties talking to a guy and gets very jealous and gets in a fight because she’s his mate and it ends with him taking her upstairs and smut

Thank you so much!! I love this idea! I hope you enjoy it!

Mates

A/N: This is my first request and I love it so much! Written on mobile so sorry for any mistakes.

Content warnings: sex and language.

You had just moved into your new apartment a few months ago. You lived across the hall from Bryce. The two of you met in the hallway one day and you instantly clicked. You quickly became best friends. She had introduced you to her friends and brother and you really enjoyed spending time with them as well. Especially Tristan. You had developed a strong connection with him. He was constantly flirting with you but hadn't made an actual move or asked you out. The first few times you hung out with him, you hoped it would lead to something more, but it never had. You gave up hope on anything beyond a friendship and figured he was just nice to you because you were Bryce's friend.

Bryce had invited you to another party at Ruhn's tonight. You had decided that you weren't going to spend your night chasing after Tristan this time. You were going to dance and have fun; maybe even meet a male. You hadn't been with anyone since you and your ex broke up almost a year ago. Bryce told you it was time for that to change which is why she was currently at your apartment tearing through your closet to find you the perfect outfit.

"This!" Bryce squealed as she handed you a short black leather skirt and a low cut black body suit to go with it.

"Are you sure?" you giggled. This skirt is really short. I don't want to accidently flash someone."

"So what if you do? I'm sure they wouldn't mind. You're really hot." Bryce laughed.

You rolled your eyes and went into the bathroom to change. You had to admit the outfit did look good on you. It accentuated all of your best features. You walked back out so Bryce could see.

"Damn! Tristan won't be able to resist you in this." She giggled. You had made the mistake of drunkenly telling Bryce about your crush on him one night and she was never going to let you live it down.

"I don't care what Tristan thinks" you sighed. You wanted it to be true but you knew deep down it wasn't. It was silly how much it bothered you. You had only known him for a few months, but you felt so drawn to him for some reason. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and it hurt that you didn't think he felt the same. You promised yourself that tonight you were going to have fun without him though. You were going to drink and dance and meet new people.

...

An hour later you and Bryce walked into Ruhn, Tristan, and Dec's place. Hunt was working and promised Bryce he would meet her there later. You both spotted Ruhn right away. He waved and walked over hugging Bryce first and then you. "Glad you guys came" he said. The three of you chatted for a minute before he returned to the people he was talking to before. You had looked around but hadn't seen Tristan anywhere. You weren't going to go out of your way to look for him. If he wanted to talk to you, he would have to come to you.

"Let's go get drinks" Bryce exclaimed. The two of you headed into the kitchen to grab whatever concoction the boys were serving today. "Flynn is probably in the living room. I'll help you look." Bryce teased.

"No thanks" you said before taking a big drink. "I told you I'm not worried about him tonight. I'm going to have fun. He can find me if he wants."

"Playing hard to get? I like it." Bryce giggled.

You rolled your eyes at her "Let's dance."

The two of you headed into the other room. It was crowded and the music was super loud. You usually avoided this area during parties. You much preferred to find a quiet corner and talk to your friends, but you promised you were going to put yourself out there more so here you were. You and Bryce had been drinking and dancing for a while when a really cute guy came up to you. "I just wanted to say you are absolutely stunning" he said.

"Thanks" you blushed.

"I'm Sam"

"Y/N" you replied.

"I'm going to go grab another drink if you want to come with me" he replied.

He was hot. Maybe not as hot as Tristan but you shouldn't even be thinking about him. Sam could definitely be a nice distraction for you tonight.

"Sure" you smiled "I need a refill anyways." You motioned to show Bryce you were leaving and she just wiggled her eyebrows in reply. You really hoped Sam didn't notice. The two of you chatted for a while in the kitchen. He told you about how he had recently gotten a job with the aux and you told him about how you had just moved to Crescent City a few months prior. He made you laugh and you really enjoyed talking to him.

After talking for a while he asked if you wanted to go back and dance with him. You agreed and he put his hand on your lower back to lead you to the dance floor. "You have less than 10 seconds to get your hands off of her" a voice came from behind you. You instantly froze.

"I'll gladly move my hand if she asks me to" Sam replied turning to face the male. You turned with him. You were still in shock.

"Tristan?" You had never seen him look so angry. You didn't understand why he cared.

He didn't make eye contact with you. He didn't even acknowledge that you had spoken to him. His focus was fully on Sam and the look he had in his eyes was terrifying. He took a step forward closer to Sam. You had to give Sam some credit; he didn't back down even though any sane person would have with the way Tristan was looking at him like he was ready to kill him. "I suggest you remove your fucking hand from my mate before I break it." He growled.

Your head was spinning. Surely you had misunderstood him. There was no way he just said you were his mate, right? "Sorry man. I didn't know." Sam removed his hand from your back and walked away. The few other people in the kitchen also had enough sense to leave. Leaving you and Tristan standing there staring at each other. Your mouth was dry and you felt like you were frozen. You didn't know what to say or how to feel. On one hand, Tristan was your mate and you were ecstatic. You knew you had felt a strong connection with him and this just validated your feelings. On the other, he had hid this from you for who knows how long and was acting like a completely possessive alphahole.

"Y/N I-"

"What the fuck was that?" you shouted. Finally processing enough to speak.

"I'm sorry." He sighed running a hand through his hair. You stepped closer to him. You weren't even sure why you were doing it. You should be mad at him. You were trying to force yourself to be mad at him but it wasn't working.

"How long have you known?"

"A couple months."

"Why didn't you tell me?" you were scared of his answer. What if he was upset that you were his mate? Maybe that jealous display was just instinct but he really didn't want you. The thought hurt more than you thought possible.

"I wanted you to figure it out on your own and..."

"And what?" you replied subconsciously moving closer. You were about as close as you could get without touching him now.

"And I was afraid you would reject me and the mating bond." He sighed looking down. he looked almost defeated. It hurt something deep inside of you to see him looking like that. Before you even knew what you were doing you moved your hands up to his face and pulled him down to kiss him. It started slow at first but quicky became more passionate. You moved your hands to rest around his neck. His hands were roaming your body like he couldn't get enough of you. He finally broke away from you and rested his forehead against your. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long" he panted.

"Are there any other things you've wanted to do to me?" you batted your lashes at him feigning innocence.

"Fuck yes." he replied grabbing your hand. He pushed through the crowd leading you upstairs to his room as you giggled.

Once you got to his room he wasted no time. He slammed the door behind you and locked it. "I'm going to make sure every male here tonight knows you're mine he growled. "You look so fucking hot in that outfit. You've been driving me crazy all night." He was suddenly pushing you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours again. your hands tugged his shirt up and over his head breaking the kiss. You needed to feel his skin. As soon as his shirt was out of the way his lips began attacking your neck. Little moans escaped your mouth and you knew he was leaving marks. He trailed his mouth all the way down your cleavage until he got to the top of your bodysuit. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist so he could carry you over to his bed. He laid you on your back and his hands reached for your skirt. He paused to look at you with a questioning look in his eyes. You nodded and he quickly removed your skirt and bodysuit.

"Shit" he said admiring the lacey red bra and panty set you were wearing. "You're perfect." One of his hands traced over your slit through your panties and you bucked your hips wanting more. He smirked down at you. "What's wrong?" he teased.

"I need you, Tristan." you breathlessly replied.

He pushed your panties to the side and and began running slow circles over your clit. You moaned closed your eyes, desperate for more. he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts. His mouth quickly attached to one of your nipples sucking and biting as he increased his speed on your clit. You were already embarrassingly close to your first orgasm and you had just started. "First you're going to cum on my fingers, then your going to cum on my face, then you're going to cum on my cock. Understood?"

"Yes Tristan. Please. I need more." you practically begged.

He smirked at you again and inserted 2 fingers inside of you while still circling your clit with his thumb. The stretch from his fingers combined with the pleasure from your clit had you coming undone in no time.

He gave you no time to settle before his mouth was attached to your clit. "Oh my gods" you moaned. Your hands were in his hair pulling him closer. You were so sensitive from just cumming on his fingers. The pleasure was absolutely overwhelming. You were sure the whole house could hear the noises you were making but you didn't care. Your mate was driving you wild and you were loving every second of it. You were seeing stars as you felt your second orgasm of the night building. He placed his 2 fingers back inside as his tongue continued its attack on your clit. This was enough to send you over the edge again. He licked and sucked you through your high not stopping until he was sure you were finished.

"That was... I... wow" was all you could say. He chuckled as he removed his pants and boxers.

"Ready for round 3?" He smirked.

This was going to be a long nigh and you couldn't wait.

[kingslionheart]

I was wondering, do you think alfred and uhtred had feelings for each other in canon?

ALRIGHT SO. I'm so extremely sorry for taking so long to answer, life has been messy for a while now and I think it has been almost 3 months since you sent this. I have basically written this entire answer little by little every single day since I first received the ask and I have only just now finished reading it again.

EVEN MORE APOLOGIES BECAUSE IT TURNED OUT TO BE EXTREMELY LONG, I'll keep it under the cut!!

Please bear in mind that there are spoilers for the entire show and film and please forgive any possible typo.

OFF WE GO NOW!!

In general I think it is important to note that the last kingdom is a show FULL of queer characters (and I will die on that hill), mostly because there's just so much subtext in the whole show, and Alfred is 100% queercoded.

There are so many aspects of his character that just betray his queerness and the first thing that does that is literally the thing so many blame him for: the way he treats Uhtred.

NOW.

Let's look at Alfred's first scene ever. Alfred appears in 1x02 and he's introduced as someone who considers himself a sinner because of his inability to control his lust. When Beocca speaks to him about the girl he’s currently feeling guilty about, Alfred's immediate first reaction is to banish her, but instead he's presented with the option of bringing her into his service. Now the reason why it is proposed by Beocca is to keep her close to show God that he's able to resist temptation and, when he does resist, to thank this higher being he so desperately believes in. This is something that comes again in 1x03 when Beocca tells him to pray for strenght the moment he almost fails again.

In brief we know that there are two moments when Alfred has to pray: when he resists temptation and when he's tempted.

After he becomes king he reserves a very particular treatment for this girl who tempted him. In 1×04 we can see, for example, that soon after washing his hands, he basically throws a towel at her without a single glance. The treatment he gives her is a cold and distant one and that's the exact same way he treats Uhtred.

Indeed, as he did when he accepted Beocca's suggestion about the servant girl, I actually believe that proving God that he could resist temptation is one of the two reasons why Alfred has brought Uhtred into his service in the first place. The only other important use he had was his knowledge of the Danes, because, at least at this point of the story, the reason of him being such a fantastic sword genuinely does not stand.

In S1 it is very obvious that Uhtred isn't that much of a great warrior, and that makes sense because he's still very young, and at the end of the day he only first made his reputation when he killed Ubba, which, by Uhtred's own admission in the books, was entirely by luck, since he was actually the one who was about to get killed. Of course it is absolutely clear why he would have never admitted such thing, he needed that reputation and that was the first significant chance he got, but the thing is that he had been in Alfred's service for a few years already when that happened.

Alfred gave lands and a title of ealdorman to someone who was a 18 years old who came from Northumbria, a some guy who had absolutely nothing and no reputation whatsover, and that he himself barely knew, even worse a man who looked like a dane and that was a pagan. If you ignore Uhtred's point of view, that's absolutely insane of someone who just became a king who didn't even have that much support from his nobles yet.

It was serving Alfred that granted Uhtred to become an actual warrior with reputation, before that he wasn't one, as Uhtred himself told Alfred in 1×02.

As I said, the only good reason for Alfred to take such a man into his service was to have danish knowledge in court, but even that could have been something quick, you know, learning the basics and then just keeping contact with him as a spy, exactly as he did with Haesten at the end of S2 and at the beginning of S3, but no. Alfred tried his very best to tie him down to Wessex and make sure that he would remain. Why is that? It is to prove that he was able to resist temptation and being in control of his own body.

Alfred was an extremely pious man as many say throughout the whole show and even in the film. He needed to prove himself to God so that he would have had favour from his part and back then there was also the whole concept of "a king who's not able to control his body is not able to control his kingdom". Resisting temptation with a man would have proven it even more than resisting temptation with a woman, especially because, compared to the other servants, Alfred genuinely arrives to a point where he's actually and sort of obviously in love with Uhtred, so it isn't any longer just a body thing but a mind/heart thing, so even worse because that would cause his judgement to be clouded, Alfred himself admits this in 2x06, where he also says that Uhtred is a temptation to him.

The word temptation is an interesting one because Alfred always uses it with a sexual connotation, we saw that in s1 especially, but I want to talk about the episode I just mentioned. Here Alfred talks about Uhtred to Aelswith and he says:

What if all this time, it has been the work of the Devil tempting me? Offering me this warrior, this seemingly loyal and brave man, who piece by small piece, is eating at my soul and clouding what I believe to be right and wrong.

Alfred here, as I said already, explicitly says that he considers Uhtred a temptation sent by the devil, which, with the knowledge of his specific use of that word, can only mean one thing. The fact itself that Aelswith then replies that "this is what the devil would do" is noteworthy because that is a topic once called to attention by Asser in 1x06 when talking about Iseult he tells Uhtred "I know the devil exists, hiding within beauty is a trick he will use often, I'm sure". Aelswith gives Alfred a solution to the problem by telling him to get rid of him, and that's what does, he banishes Uhtred. Alfred talked of Uhtred as a temptation and then he chose to banish him for a while, does it by any chance remind you of something? His first instict in 1x02 about the servant.

Another thing that is very important to point out is that, as I said before, Alfred is considered a pious christian, so we know that Alfred prays daily and a lot, he even uses prayers to establish a political connection most of the times, but that can't prove his piety because many did too. The only times Alfred proves his piety are those when he prays alone and that happens 3 times in 3 seasons, which is funny since we could have expected way more for his reputation, but since it happens so little there has to be a meaning. As we said, we know that Alfred has to pray in two specific moments: when he has to thank God for resisting temptation and when he's tempted.

So very casually the times where he prays alone are always connected to Uhtred.

The first moment it happens is in 2x06, before the scene when Alfred admits that Uhtred tempts him and after the scene when Alfred screams at Uhtred "I do not know you and I could never know you", which is totally "know" as the biblical meaning of the word, if we consider everything that I have said before. The two other times are in s3, when Alfred's love for Uhtred is way more obvious and rather in a more romantic way than just attraction. The first time in that season is in 3x03 when he's there praying, with tears in his eyes, a few weeks (perhaps even a month) after Uhtred has betrayed him, and there he speaks of him and we see that he's hurt and wants to hurt Uhtred in return, so there's an element of heartbreak. The second time is in 3x06, after he has seen Uhtred again for the first time since his betrayal, and there we can find something close to worry for Uhtred's condition as a pagan, because he says that "He is a man in great need of the guidance of God". In 3x08 there's also an interesting hint about his prayers when Beocca hypothyses that Alfred prays for Uhtred's return and the truth behind it is written plainly on Alfred's face. His prayers shifted from a physical attraction type of temptation to something that could very clearly be recognised as love.

S3 is THE proof that Alfred was in love with Uhtred and, while you can already see it in the first episode of it when he watched Uhtred ride away from the city (which he also did in 1×02), that love becomes more obvious immediately after Uhtred betrays him in 3x02, YES THAT SCENE WHEN HE’S CRYING ALONE IN THE ROOM. While I do realise that it could be interpred as crying because his dream of an england was in danger, STILL you know that it is not just that, that man was heartbroken and the worst thing about it is that Alfred totally knew that he had no one to blame but himself, because Alfred is always perfectly aware of the way he treats Uhtred, think about the “I do not, I cannot” in 2x06 when Aelswith asks him if he trusts him, Alfred cannot trust Uhtred because if he did then he would totally fall into temptation, I MEAN LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO AETHELSTAN WITH INGILMUNDR.

From that episode onward Alfred is on another level of misery, and that’s truly an achievement considering how miserable that man always is. First of all he’s angrier than ever and that anger reaches levels of revenge, confirmed by Alfred himself in 3×09 when he says this:

It was done to damn you. To inflict pain, possibly. I try to make decisions rationally. However, taking your children was not a rational decision. It was thoughtless. It was selfish.

Here Alfred admits that he wanted to hurt Uhtred and why did he do that? Because he wasn’t thinking rationally, and why wasn’t he thinking rationally? Because it concerned Uhtred. This literally always goes back to 2x06, because Alfred did say there that Uhtred clouded his judgment and that is the proof. When it comes to Uhtred, when Uhtred is around, he just can’t think rationally. That’s literally some romantic shit there.

I made the example of Aethelstan and Ingilmundr earlier and that truly fits this whole part really well, because in the film Aethelstan is portrayed as someone who’s blind and acting in a completely irrational way because he’s in love with Ingilmundr, his oathman. I would also love to point out how Aethelstan is portrayed as a pious christian king who prays and acts only for his own salvation, since he considers himself a sinner for his queerness. There’s so much guilt in that boy and, especially, more than once he’s compared to Alfred: first by Ingilmundr who tells him that he has to be pious so that men would speak of him as they spoke of his grandfather, and second when Aethelstan talks to Uhtred and indirectly compares his sins as worse than the ones of Alfred, so the connection between them is not only about piety, but also sins. Then, no less important, I think it is quiet obvious who Ingilmundr reminds of considering how he was “born a dane but raised saxon”. The parallels are right there and have never been louder.

Another parallel that I want to point out is the connotation between homosexuality and England, that’s particularly connected to the film because in SKMD Aethelstan wants to unite it simply to redeem himself for having a male lover:

Ingilmundr: Perhaps return to your grandfather’s vision for England. Perhaps now there is an urgency to bring the pagans to light.

Aethelstan: Will that cleanse me? Us?

Ingilmundr: Well, surely the greater the lands, the greater the faith. Go beyond what Alfred dreamed of. Look to the islands God made, not the countries ordained by men, and bring all to Christianity. So when you are judged, you will be found in balance. And thus may accept both the sin… and the conquest against it.

Notice how even in this whole thing Alfred sort of remains the greatest sinner of them all, because Ingilmundr here says to bring to christianity the lands that God created and not the ones that men, Alfred, wanted to make, it almost feels as if he’s saying that his sin would only be accepted if he does what God offers him in lands and therefore if he doesn’t put himself above God by being the one who decides which parts to unite and which not. Here Alfred is truly portrayed as someone who has put himself above God in his decisions and thus England would have never cleansed him for his sins, because he was directly sinning while planning it and actually, always back in 2x06, Alfred too considered himself a sinner for the way he was laying the fundations of the country, but not in the way Ingilimundr meant but because “I am reaching out for an England, all in the name of God, yet I am relying upon the strength of a heathen”, so what made him a sinner was his connection to Uhtred.

The thing is that as a consequence in the film England is connected to carnal sins and, indeed, as you have probably realised already when you watched the show, that country has ALWAYS been put in some sexual way, you may call it Alfred’s fav kink. That seriously begins in 1x03 when Alfred is making out with that servant (the same one we have talked about before) and he literally goes like “I will defend you with my life, you stand as everything that is precious, you are Wessex, England, always to be cherished, never to be violated, only to be loved, vigorously”, therefore Alfred arrived to the point of seeing someone as a personification of England and that happens only another time in the show and that is in 2x03 when he says to Uhtred “You are a Saxon who is also a Dane, The very embodiment of the England that must emerge”.

THE VERY EMBODIMENT.

To him Uhtred was the personification of England and now this might be a bittttt too much from me, but even in 3x09 when Alfred is dying his last conversation is about Uhtred and the role he will have in the formation of England, and there Aelswith is trying to make Alfred see that it is wrong because being guided (SO RELYING) by a pagan means straying from God’s rightenous path, but what does Alfred do? He literally defends Uhtred and those are his last few breaths, what has Alfred said to that servant? “I will defend you with my life, […] you are […] England”, and look at Alfred’s final words:

Aelswith: Why are the Danes forever at our door? Because we are being punished, Lord, for the presence of this heathen.

Alfred: He is for England.

Aelswith: He is an outlaw.

Alfred: My England... my love.

Alfred basically dies defending Uhtred and while “My England” could be interpreted as him thinking about the actual country, the whole conversation and the whole parallels both between 1x03 and 2x03, so with the knowledge that to him Uhtred is England, I DON’T KNOW I JUST CAN’T HELP BUT THINK “HMM YOU KNOW WHAT, PERHAPS HE WASN'T TALKING ABOUT ENGLAND ENGLAND”

As you have probably understood, I believe that the moment when Alfred confessed his feelings for Uhtred was in 2x06 and he literally confessed them to Aelswith, so at beginning of S3 she has been knowing it for years.

Now let’s see all of S3 from Aelswith’s point of view. In this season her beloved husband is dying and she's painfully aware he is, even more after Alfred confirms it in 3x02. She knows it will happen, thus she tries to stay at his side as much as possible because Aelswith loved Alfred so much and despite everything (cough cough despite his cheating cough cough), then at some point she witnesses her husband's life be put in danger when he is taken as a hostage by the same man she knows he has feelings for. That man escapes and her husband is abandoned by him and, instead of seeing the anger he's showing to everyone, she sees how broken he is because of that, because she knows that Uhtred did not only break his oath but wholeheartedly broke Alfred’s heart. She has to witness not only her husband’s suffering because of his illness, but also the pain he feels because that man he loves has left him. The nearer her husband gets to his death, the nearer she notices the way he wants to forgive that same man who has made him suffer for years now (s3 starts in 891/892 and Alfred’s death happens in 899), then right before her husband’s passing she finds them together in his study, completely alone. She tries to make her husband reason (indirectly even trying to remind him of how much pain he went through because of him) but instead her husband orders her to leave, she probably hasn’t even seen Uhtred return from the room until late in the evening. Her husband dies not long after and she’s hurt because she has lost the man she's stood by and loved for most of her life, but in all of this… Who’s the one who left her husband? Who’s the one who broke his heart? Who’s the one who in a way could have worsed his condition because of the mental pain he had to go through because of him? Uhtred. So she imprisons Uhtred, threatens to kill him, but then accepts to just exile him, but then, in front of the whole of Winchester, Uhtred gives an entire speech about his relationship with her husband arriving to a point in which he even says that he loved Alfred. This is worsened by the fact that, in her last conversation with him, Alfred was going against her just to defend him.

Aelswith’s anger towards Uhtred is the most understandable reaction ever.

A very interesting scene to me, with the knowledge that Aelswith has this insight of Alfred’s feelings for Uhtred, is the scene where she prays in 3x08, because... THE THINGS SHE SAYS!!

Lord God, give me strength and guidance to do your work. If it is right and proper to rely upon a heathen, albeit for violence, then I beg you... show me a sign. Help me. I want my son to remain untarnished by heathen ways. I wish him to be God's king. Pure.

Here she’s praying for Edward in the prospect of a possible connection to Uhtred in case the latter becomes his oathman once he’s king, but it is the last part of the whole prayer that is fascinating, because in this moment she says what a king is if he’s connected to him and, therefore, the reference to Alfred is undeniable: the king had to be “untarnished by heathen ways” so that he could be “God’s king” and “pure”.

Alfred was connected to Uhtred so he was tarnished by heathen ways, he was not God’s king and he was not pure, all because of it.

Alfred eveasdropped this whole thing and when Aelswith noticed him, they both understood exactly what she was truly talking about and the expression on Alfred’s face was one of someone who actually believed those things about himself as well, and indeed you see that a lot in S3 when he shows more than once that he’s scared that he won’t end up in heaven. In 2x06 there's also another hint at that when he says “I am reaching out for an England, all in the name of God, yet I am relying upon the strength of a heathen, the iron of a pagan”, and when Aelswith tells him “You are God's king, lord" his answer is "Yet at my right hand is a pagan”.

Alfred has always been terrified at the possibility of not ending up in heaven because of what he had with Uhtred, but despite all of that he's always defended him and saved his life multiple times, just as Uhtred did with him.

Since Uhtred arrived in Wessex he has risked death more than once in every season, and Alfred has always tried to find a way to save his life:

1x03, Ubba offered Alfred a peace for silver and Uhtred’s head, Alfred refused and told him that he would have returned to the sword if he didn’t accept only to be paid.

1x05, Uhtred unleashed a sword in front of Alfred during prayers, while screaming at him in front of many people of Winchester. That’s a crime that is supposed to be punished with death, Alfred made him crawl instead.

1x06/1x07, Uhtred, claiming to do Alfred’s business, plundered Cornwall and sided with a Dane against a christian king, Alfred was supposed to kill him immediately, even more when Uhtred, supposed to beg for forgiveness, decided to scream in his face that he would never kneel neither to him nor to his God, but instead Alfred accepted Leofric’s proposal of a fight to the death so that “God would decide”, that means he left the possibility of Uhtred’s survival, even more because he chose the exact day for that fight to happen, which, casually, was on the day of a saint he liked a lot, and indeed the day after he called Uhtred and told him that he didn't like the thought of someone dying on that day. He tried to save him by offering him the option of giving everything back and resuming the debt (since it was with the plunder that he paid it), but Uhtred didn’t want to leave Iseult, so he refused.

2x03, he sent Ragnar to rescue Uhtred from slavery.

3x02, first, he was most likely going to forgive Uhtred for desecrating the cemetery; second, he should have senteced Uhtred to death for killing a monk in front of the whole witan and then escaping (thus worsening his actions), but instead he asked for an oath and spared his life; third, after he threatened his life Alfred did order for him to be killed, but as soon as he escaped he simply banished him from Wessex, he could have made someone follow him, but he didn’t.

3x05, Uhtred was an outlaw, while he was in Mercia Alfred could have still had him killed, since at the end of the day he was one of his enemies, but instead he used the excuse of him having Aethelflaed’s protection. Alfred could have killed him and no one would have said anything about it, but he did not.

3x08/3x09 Uhtred was still an outlaw here and Alfred claimed before that he would have killed him if stepped foot into Wessex, but he did not, instead he even assured his protection for when he knew he wouldn’t have been alive anymore to protect him.

Now, I feel like Alfred has a sort of codependency when it comes to Uhtred. That man constantly wants him next to him and he almost needs him to be there, the fact itself that in 2x05 Odda mentions that Alfred always says the same thing about Uhtred’s hall in Coccham “every time we visit”, hints at them being there quite ofter and there was only a 3 years time jump between the first and second half of S2, so Uhtred has had those lands for 3 years, probably even less, so… Exactly how many times have you visited this man in 3 years, Alfred? But, whether there's actually an element of codependency or not, there's certainly something that pulls them together, and indeed it is explicitly said that Uhtred and Alfred are “bonded" and that for that fact alone they can't kill each other even when they should.

In 3×09 Alfred points a sword to Uhtred's throat and asks him if he believes he could kill him, and to that Uhtred answers “we are bonded, you cannot kill me just as I cannot kill you”, and it’s really fascinating because there's a parallel between that scene and the scene in 5x07 when Uhtred and Brida are fighting and, when she tells him to kill her, he screams at her that they “are bound as one, killing you would be like killing a part of myself”, and Brida and Uhtred were romantically involved.

My point is that it is for this exact reason that Alfred was never able to look at Uhtred and excute him as he was supposed to do so many times, even the only time it very nearly happened (1x07) he left before he could see it, and whenever Uhtred was hit by Leofric during the fight, if you look specifically at Alfred, it almost seems as if he couldn't breathe, so you know there’s a kind of “without you I would be lost and I wouldn’t be myself anymore” for the both of them, and you can see that especially in the one who had to live further when the other actually died: Uhtred.

Uhtred very much always clings onto a few things and people, but the more he loses those he cares for the most, the more he loses himself. S3 is truly the start of Uhtred’s sort of radical change, indeed the man in SKMD is almost nothing like the man in S1, and what made it possible was that season.

In S3 Uhtred faces many losses: first he loses Gisela, so literally the love of his life (she was and I will die on that hill), second his brother Ragnar, then he loses Alfred, and not even a few days after his sister Thyra dies.

Gisela’s death has started Uhtred’s fall, and since he got cursed and was, very understandbly, in so much pain, everything escalated very quickly.

He killed Godwin to defend Gisela’s honour and he was obviously hurt by what he perceived as Alfred’s disinterest in defending Gisela, as he himself in 3x04 complains about in a very hurt way that Alfred “allowed her to be called a whore” (even though Alfred did try to make Godwin stop, but Uhtred simply couldn’t hear it because he was too enraged), therefore he betrays him and then subsequentially feels absolutely so guilty about it that he arrives to the point where Leofric, as the personification of his conscience, lets us know that he believed he deserved to died because of what he did to Alfred. As soon as the first occasion arises (Aethelflaed is in danger) he immediately leaves, which you can see was already on his mind as soon as Brida suggested him destroying Alfred, thus he abandons his brother. He then finds out that Ragnar died and he thinks it’s his fault because he left him (though there could have probably been little he could have done to prevent it even if he stayed there), then he suddenly meets Alfred again and he sees how much he's hated by him, or so Uhtred believes, so he falls in an even worse emotional state than before. After some time, Beocca asks him to meet Alfred and Uhtred himself wonders “what makes you think he would speak with me?”, which just shows how much he truly thought that Alfred despised him, but he goes to meet him anyway and he speaks to him. For the first time since they have met they are honest to each other and Alfred shows him actual trust and even love in a way, but then Alfred dies not even a week after (probably the day after they talked actually), so even if they were finally at peace with each other, Alfred still died and they had no way to enjoy that tranquility.

Now all of this took a very obvious emotional toll on Uhtred and I believe that Alfred is one of the biggest because he knew that he going to die, and yet, because of Skade's curse as Uhtred believed it to be, he wasted those final years they could have had together. That man meant a lot to Uhtred and in the books there's this quote that always gets me:

I stood beside Alfred’s coffin and thought how life slipped by, and how, for nearly all my life, Alfred had been there like a great landmark.

And that’s so terribly true because, compared to all the deaths before, it is important to notice that Alfred was the one who was there the most, more than Gisela and even more than Ragnar himself, since the latter left for Ireland right before Uhtred became Earl Ragnar’s son. Indeed when Alfred dies you can immediately see a change in demanor in Uhtred, which is striking because compared to many other deaths he went through, Uhtred remains silent in face of many things, for example during Alfred’s funeral he's imprisoned but doesn’t say a word, the only time he utters something is to tell Finan to do nothing. S1 Uhtred would have never reacted in such a way.

Still in prison, you can see that he goes near a very dangerous edge when he finds out that Thyra died, and that edge is finally overstepped in 4x03 with Beocca’s death, and it is from this death onwards that Uhtred is a completely different person. The process started with Gisela's death, culminated with Alfred’s and exploded with Beocca’s.

As I said Uhtred always clings to people and Uhtred has always been sort of in denial for Alfred’s death. He always dismissed the actual possibility of him dying, even when he himself noticed the signs, even when Alfred himself told him that he was about to and yet that man was still there like “Skade preys on men's fears, Lord”, says the man who at that time believed every single word she said. The thing is that I believe Uhtred remained in denial even after Alfred died, because yes he was with his God, but there was a part of Alfred that still lived: his dream.

From Alfred's death onwards, Uhtred works both directly and indirectly for the dream of an England, indeed he actually proves his loyalty to that man more after he died than when he was alive, and that has a lot to do with the fact that it was the last connection he had with him, as in a way it was also for Aelswith if you think about it, but also there was the aspect that, before dying, Alfred entrusted it in his hands and, since Uhtred spent the whole of S3 considering himself a traitor and blaming himself for it, if that man shows you one last trust, a trust you have yearned for your whole life, even more with the thing you know is most precious to him, what do you do? You are willing to do anything you can to make sure that that dream happens, to make sure that you can prove your loyalty, to show that you can keep one last oath to him and make it up for the one you broke.

That is painfully obvious in the film.

In the film Uhtred has made Northumbria an unified place, and it is actually the first time the whole of it is under one single king (even if Uhtred doesn’t call himself that), which was what Alfred has wanted all along, because he knew that the main problem would have been that particular kingdom, so with this action Uhtred has paved the way for the upcoming unification of England.

In 3x09 Alfred told him that his last act as king was to make sure that good men held power and that's one of the main things Uhtred was doing. Uhtred has known Alfred for 28 years of his life, he spent countless times with him, so he knew what Alfred would have wanted and every single decision he took in the film was so obviously made with the thought in mind of Alfred's wishes, and indeed Uhtred held the reins until he knew there was someone fitting to rule, a good man, just as his king would have wanted.

One of the most beautiful things to me is that Uhtred was lord of Bebbanburg at the time, so lord of the fortress he has waited his whole life to get back to, and yet he was mostly and more concerned about Alfred’s dream dying rather than the survival of that. Uhtred was also in a situation where he didn’t want to fight anymore, he didn’t even particularly believed he was still a warrior, and yet as soon as that dream was threatened, he didn’t hesitate once. That man was even forbidden to take part of the battle, since it would have been too dangerous for him, but he didn’t trust anyone else to protect Alfred’s dream and thus Uhtred went and died for it.

That man would have never died if he listened to Aethelstan's commands, but he defied them to not betray the little trust Alfred put in him right before he passed.

When he went back to Bebbanburg he didn’t even allow himself to die until he knew that there was an England out there and that Alfred’s lineage was on the throne of it, and during that scene he says that all he wanted was to be honoured in valhalla for “standing by an oath”, which yes can be interpreted as the oath of protecting Aethelstan, but remember that in S3, in Uhtred's mind, he did the most terrible thing of them all by breaking his oath to Alfred. Making England happen was the only way he could have forgiven himself for it, absolutely striking is the moment when the dream is fulfilled and you can how Uhtred is on the verge of tears and I think that has to do with two main reasons: first, he knew that with that Alfred would have finally known and understood how he could have never have betrayed him, and second, Alfred’s work was finished and there was nothing that kept him alive in his mind anymore.

Uhtred died soon after that so, in my mind, he totally met Alfred again at some point. In the show, for Thyra who was in a situation where she still believed in valhalla but was actually a christian, it was accepted the view of being in both places, therefore it is most likely the same for Uhtred, you know, a whole concept of peace rather than an actual place.

Dying for England is the most obvious declaration of love from Uhtred’s part, but if we want to point out actual words, Uhtred in 3x10 says that Alfred was “a man I loved and despised”, and he even calls him “my king”, which is something Uhtred will never do again for anyone. For the other kings he always just refers to them as “our”, therefore he speaks for his people and not for himself, but for Alfred? Oh, that’s a “my”.

For Alfred the thing was different because the man was a christian with so much guilt inside, it would have been way more difficult for him to say out loud that he loved Uhtred.

I do believe though that he did say it in subtext when he told him that “I should have closed my eyes and rattled at Heaven’s gate some time ago, it was the hope of this meeting that has kept me alive”, which is a lot, considering that the man was suffering like hell because of his illness, and yet he held onto life just for the purpose of seeing Uhtred one last time. It is also very interesting that on his deathbed he asked Uhtred “are you here or is it my sickness?”, because it hints at the possibility of Alfred having hallucinatione of Uhtred in the past when he was ill and WHY WOULD YOU EVER SEE SOME MAN WHEN YOU FEEL UNWELL? AND ESPECIALLY WHY ARE YOU NOT EVEN SURPRISED THAT YOUR MIND COULD HAVE CONJURED UHTRED COMING TO YOUR CHAMBERS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? There’s only one answer to that:

You are gay for that man and you are in love with him.

They both were.

So anon, the answer to your question is: Yes, I do believe that they had feelings for each other.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!

[dinneronvenus]

⭒ Shishiba x fem reader

⭒ tags: fluff for perverts • heavy petting • emotional foreplay • pda • exhibitionist Shishiba • reader is a “honeypot” spy • secret relationship • canonically disabled Shishiba • praise • pleasure d-m Shishiba • mild jealousy and possessiveness

⭒ umm I had no idea how to end this before it got too long lol my bad I may redo the ending but enjoy it for now. I did not proofread this either lol

Shishiba has a fierce set of ethics and rules about how he performs in his job. He doesn’t get upset when people close to him die because he knows that’s just the nature of the job. It’d be hypocritical to be upset at death when you kill people for a living. It’d be even more hypocritical to hate experiencing violence when you operate as violently as possible. Any feelings that conflicted with the nature of his work were deemed pointless, selfish, and ridiculous. He threw them away and fulfilled his duties without a shred of insincerity. Or he did before meeting you, anyway.

It’d been a few months since you’d turned him into a hypocrite. He still remembers your first meeting like it was yesterday. The way you sauntered into the Order’s dining room when the chairman gave his cue was burned into Shishiba’s mind. Your dress was pitch black and a perfect fit for your curvy body; accentuating all the right things. Your hair and makeup were flawless—he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to your glossy lips as the chairman introduced you.

“She’ll be gathering intelligence from extremely high profile targets that have a weakness for the flesh.”

Suddenly the unbelievable beauty made sense. You’d essentially be used as bait and work in tandem with at least one member of the Order to eliminate targets when you weren’t gathering information. At first he resigned himself to not being able to pursue you at all, but after two missions with you he started convincing himself that something strictly physical wouldn’t be a problem. How shortsighted and stupid of him.

You two have been working your latest target for the last month, a ceo that turned out to be the host of a human auction, and not a second went by where jealousy didn’t try to consume Shishiba whole. Due to his low casualty rate and high discretion you were paired up often and for long stretches of time. He couldn’t bring himself to be rude or cold with you for too long but God knows he tried so hard to resist you in the beginning.

He tried to write you off, figuring your sweet personality and elegant demeanor were manufactured for your job. The more time you spent with him, the more he saw that you were a true natural charmer. In fact, he noticed that the way you speak to your targets and the way you speak to him differed only slightly. You didn’t praise him or stroke his ego in any way and never tried to manipulate his feelings or thoughts. That last part didn’t change when the two of you started fucking either. You weren’t shy about letting him know you enjoyed his mouth when it was clamped around your pussy and would even tell him you thought of him when you took targets to bed. The problem was that you did it so matter-of-factly. As if it should be obvious enough to not need saying that you enjoyed him more than the scumbags. He was desperate for the emotional side of you, even if it was fake.

Every second you spent in the hands of someone else was sandpaper to his soul. Hearing the playback of your intelligence gathering sessions made him want to tear someone apart. Your voice dripped with a cocktail of lust, respect, and adoration made specifically for the target. Flirty giggles punctuated your responses and the subtle, almost chaste physical affections you’d give them to solidify the fantasy often force him to disable the visual feed.

You were never so intentionally emotional with him and he refused to let yet another despicable man enjoy his idea of heaven without experiencing it himself. You came back to the safe house after your latest session with the ceo. Shishiba noticed that your hair was in a different style and your lips were swollen. He couldn’t help but picture you suckling on the fingers and cock of the ceo and had to turn away to hide his reflexive grimace. Your heels clattered against the floor as you slipped them off with a relieved sigh.

“Welcome back,” Shishiba said without facing you, choosing instead to make it seem like he was searching in the near-bare fridge for something. “Anything to report?”

“In three days there will be another auction. Our goal should be to identify the guests—specifically the bidders—and eliminate our current target. If we can set up to probe or eliminate others, that’s a bonus.” Your voice sounded softer than normal with exhaustion leaking through.

“Excellent work. We should go out to eat and celebrate.” Shishiba closed the fridge after coming out empty handed. “There’s nothing to eat here anyway.”

“Sounds good to me. It’ll be nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t make my skin crawl.” You said the last part more to yourself than to him but he saw an opening and took it.

“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically as he walked towards you slowly. He held his left hand out to you—two sleek black prosthetic fingers reflected the soft light—an offering of gentle affection. A code between you two ever since you first came close enough to notice he wasn’t just wearing a half glove. Genuine curiosity and concern for him gave your voice a comforting quality. He didn’t feel weaker or defective under your gaze. You didn’t probe him about how he lost the fingers. He extended his hand and you took it wanting a better look, next thing he knew he was taking off your clothes. Now every night he’s blessed to be inside you begins this way.

He nuzzled his face into your neck while his left hand interlocked yours and his right snaked around your waist. Your scent flooded his nostrils, your perfume an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood, marshmallow, chocolate, and coffee. Bittersweet and sharp, the best way to describe it and it’s wearer. You whined softly as his lips moved over your neck, soft licks and bites peppered between kisses.

“If you keep this—mhm—up any longer, anywhere decent to eat will close.” You failed to stifle a moan as his hand gripped your ass in the middle of your protest. “Let me shower and we’ll go.” Your right hand had found its usual home in his hair and as you pulled away you cupped his face. He kissed your cheek and shooed you off to the bathroom.

Shishiba gripped your thigh as he drove through the foggy streets. Once you two arrived at the restaurant he was the perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out your chair. The change of pace in men was refreshing. Sure, he enjoyed your body but he wasn’t disgusting about it and he wasn’t irredeemable like the men you usually see on the other side of the table. In fact, he was so sweet in secret that he made sugar look like salt. You had decided to order some lily raspberry sake for yourself since you didn’t have to see the ceo again for a few days. Shishiba didn’t think you drank at all, so this made him curious.

“Is it good?” He asked as you lifted the cup from your lips.

“Very, I’ll have to pace myself.”

“Lightweight?”

You gave him a soft “mhm” as you took another sip. Maybe you’d become surprisingly honest and he could ask you to give him exactly what he wanted. You two continued to talk and laugh even on the walk back to the car. It felt like a real date to both of you, but you wouldn’t be the first to admit it. As he opened the car door so you could get in, you ran your index finger across his jaw and gently traced a small circle around his scar. He didn’t want to, but he pulled away from your touch and stared at you hard. The immediate pout you gave him nearly disarmed him though.

“Don’t look at me like that. Someone could see us.”

“Who cares who sees anything?” You locked eyes with him and watched his cheeks turn light pink.

“You’re drunk. Get in the car, please.” You pouted again but complied. He shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t reach for the keys or anything—he just stared at the steering wheel for a second. You got nervous that pretending to be more intoxicated than you actually were was backfiring, so you went to tell him but he cut you off with a confession of his own.

“I… Will you talk to me the way you do your targets?” He blurted out but didn’t look at you. Now you feel like maybe you did drink too much.

“What do you mean?” You tiled your head in genuine curiosity and reached out to touch him so he’d look at you.

“You know. The way you talk to them with desire and passion…” He looked like he was asking you to do something so unspeakable. It made you giggle a bit.

“You want me to be sweet to you?” You had a fire building in the pit of your stomach, you let genuine desire coat your throat before you spoke again. “Oh, Shishiba… why didn’t you ask me sooner? You know I’ll do anything you ask me.” You let lust soak every last bit of your speech and his reaction was priceless.

“Yknow… you’re really dangerous.”

That’s all he could manage to say before his lips crashed against yours. Your tongues didn’t dare part before it was necessary. You slid across the bench seat to snuggle into his arm, making sure to gently press your breasts into him. He started the car and drove in the direction of the safe house. He had his right arm around your shoulders, occasionally ghosting his fingers over your neck—he knew that teasing touches really turned you on and the sake wasn’t helping at all.

“Shishiba,” you cooed up at him. “I can’t wait, will you pullover?”

His eyes flicked towards you and then back to the road. His silence was deafening and that intense look on his face made you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief. His fingers brushed over your neck and ear again as the car peeled onto the gravel of the roadside. He cut the headlights off and then turned to face you completely. His expression was hard to read. The eyes were still lustful but his telltale smirk was nowhere to be found. You reached for him and he grabbed your hand only to set it down on the seat with his loosely in it. A sigh left him and you could feel rejection threatening to bubble up in you when he finally spoke again.

“You remember the rules we agreed to follow with each other? What’s gotten into you?” He wasn’t actually scolding you but it sure felt like it. You had two options now: answer him seriously or double down on his request.

“Nothing besides you,” you replied while looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe we should change the rules. Or just break them.” You let your fingers dance against the palm of his hand. Everything about you made it hard for him to think rationally. His eyes roved over your face and body with more feelings than he’d ever had before.

“Then let’s start with the one that keeps me from telling you,” In one fluid motion he had a grip on your chin and was running his thumb over your bottom lip. “How beautiful you look when you beg me not to stop.”

He kissed you before you could say anything else. Hands roamed your body hungrily and squeezed away as they traveled to your chest. His words made your entire body hotter than the sake did. You leaned against him and spread your legs more, hoping he’d read your mind. He laughed at your desperation for his touch. He gave you the relief you wanted, slipping his fingers past your panties and swiping them over your clit and folds.

“You’re soaked already. Did you miss me that much?” He chuckled lowly as you moaned in reply. Once he slipped his fingers inside, you knew it’d be a long time before you made it back to the safe house.

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Three

I didn't expect this to have another part but here we are...

Elain has a perplexing vision involving a black ribbon and a slice of cake.

If you missed the first two parts of Stargirl, you can find them linked in my masterlist

Read on AO3

2.1k words, some sexual imagery (18+)

ENJOY XX

Just one time. 

That’s what Elain had told herself as she took Azriel into her body that very first night. 

For almost as long as she’d known him, a certain longing had simmered beneath the surface of her skin. It was a longing that had been somewhat easy to ignore until that vision had come out of nowhere, acting like fuel to a fire and setting her ablaze with a desire that she wrestled with for a seemingly endless month before they finally gave into temptation.

How naive she had been to think that she’d be able to walk away from that night and not need more.

It was never going to be that easy, not when that first time had immediately ignited something within her soul - a carnal craving that took on a life of its own and became something like a siren song. It was as if her very blood continuously called to him - beckoning him until he answered by putting his hands on her body whenever possible, as often as possible. 

One time had become one night and one night had turned into month after month of increasingly blatant trysts which were accompanied by rapidly intensifying feelings. She could barely look at him without feeling her skin prickle with want, without needing to press her thighs tightly together to ease an ache that only he would be able to satisfy. 

They hadn’t discussed what this was, what they were to each other, but they had settled into it as easily as breathing. This new physical dynamic intertwined so smoothly into their already established friendship  that neither of them had felt the need to question or label whatever bloomed between them. 

To Elain’s delight, Azriel’s early morning interrogations had continued. They maintained the guise of being acquaintances in front of their families, allowing themselves only the occasional touch or glance just to provide themselves with some sort of an outlet for the desperate way they needed each other. 

Each time they found themselves in the same house at the same time, anticipation would build quietly over the course of the day with the shared knowledge that they’d inevitably find their way into the same bed as each other in the quiet of the night. 

His shadows aided them - shrouding the two lovers from the rest of the world as they spent hours tangled under the covers. Talking and teasing, touching and tasting - until the first light of dawn would signal that it was time for them to separate.

…

They had ended up in Azriel’s bed on this particular night. The sheets are a crumpled mess around their waists. The candles he had lit earlier had burnt out long ago. The only source of light comes from the waning moon hanging high in the night sky outside his window.

Elain’s head rests on Azriel’s chest, the golden strands of her hair are plastered to his sweat slicked skin. A strong arm is slung around her bare shoulders, holding her firmly to his body. She listens carefully, relishing in the slow beat of his heart as he sleeps peacefully beneath her.

He hardly ever falls asleep before her and it’s so rare to see him like this - so at ease that every muscle in his body is completely relaxed as he rests. It’s a state of tranquility that could only come from hour upon hour of giving and taking pleasure from each other until their bodies completely gave out. 

Elain takes the opportunity to study him - his long, dark eyelashes fan out over the very top of his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows over the planes of his face. Those beautiful lips, that just moments ago had tenderly left strategically placed marks on her breasts and thighs, were now slightly parted as he slept.

She resists the urge to brush the dark hair off of his forehead, doesn’t want to risk waking him up. Instead, she continues lazily tracing the swirls of black ink on his brown skin, tries to keep her finger steady as his chest rises and falls under her touch.

Elain is halfway to drifting off to sleep herself when it happens again.

Azriel’s face fades from view as her vision shifts and his dark moonlit bedroom transforms into blinding light.

When her eyes adjust, she finds herself standing in the garden of Rhysand and Feyre’s home.

The sky is a beautiful dusky blue. The late afternoon sun is a brilliant amalgamation of oranges and reds, casting stunning patterns of sparkling light as it just begins to set over the river at the far edge of the garden. 

A long pathway looks to have been carved into the grass lawn. Either side of the makeshift aisle is decorated with bright blooms of carefully arranged flowers. Roses, peonies, and carnations in various shades of pink and blue, are perfectly balanced with generous clouds of white baby’s breath. 

The arrangements  were a perfect match for the stunning bouquet clasped tight between her trembling palms.

Her arms are covered in a delicate ivory lace that  flows into what is easily the most beautiful gown she’s ever seen, let alone worn, in her entire life. 

It’s only when her satin slippered feet start carrying her down the aisle that Elain looks up from the flowers and the pretty dress to see the familiar faces of her sisters staring back at her. Both of their eyes are shining with tears. 

The soft strings of a harp play a familiar tune as she walks. It’s a song that she’d heard countless times as a young girl while attending the numerous weddings her mother used to drag her and her sisters to. 

A wedding. 

No.

If this was a wedding, if she was the bride, that meant… 

No. No. No. 

Elain claws at the recesses of her mind, tries desperately to free herself from this. 

She doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to face the inevitable. 

Nothing she tries works. She’s trapped in this vision, in this world, walking down the aisle towards a fate she has no desire to be a part of.

But if this was happening, the overarching emotions in her body - the one she inhibits in this vision - are so at odds with what she would’ve expected to feel in this moment.. 

She expected to feel anger, reluctance, even sadness. Instead, it’s  pure happiness that courses through her. It’s joy coupled with unadulterated love and relief. 

Everything makes sense when her eyes finally lift and she sees three males standing tall on the opposite side of the aisle from her sisters, each of their finely honed bodies are clad in well tailored black suits and white shirts. 

The hair on each of their heads is as dark as night. There isn’t a single strand of auburn to be found amongst them. 

There’s no room for doubt remaining when the male standing closest to the inside of the aisle turns and those  familiar hazel gaze locks on her. It only takes a second of him looking at Elain with so much love before tears begin to spill from her own eyes. 

Azriel. 

… 

Her vision shifts again and it’s a flash of scenes in quick succession. 

Scarred  hands holding her own hands while they exchange vows. 

Nyx, now a toddler, teetering towards them from where he was seated on Mor’s lap - a small plate with a generous sliver of cake held proudly in his small, chubby hands. 

Nesta and Feyre winding a black ribbon around her and Azriel’s joined hands. Cassian and Rhys taking over to tie the satin into a tight knot, the former of the two males muttering something that has Feyre quickly covering her son's ears. 

Elain doesn’t have the time to properly register what she’s seeing before the scene changes once more.

This time they’re in the townhouse. In her room. On her bed.

There’s what appears to be hundreds of candles lit on every available surface, casting the room in romantic golden light and flickering shadows. Her usual lilac bed linen has been replaced by billowing white sheets strewn with white rose petals. 

That beautiful dress she had been wearing is draped carefully on the back of her armchair, Azriel’s suit lies on the floor at the side of the bed. 

The only bit of fabric on either of them is the black silk ribbon from their ceremony which is now wrapped around both of Azriel’s wrists, binding his hands to the posts of her headboard. 

When she looks down, her hands are in his hair - tightly fisting the dark strands between her fingers. Her thighs are on either side of his face - a face she can’t quite see because she’s hovering over it. 

Elain jolts when she feels the pull of his lips as he takes her clit into her mouth. The action is swiftly followed by the long, torturous slide of his flattened tongue along her sex until he finally dips it inside her - lapping up the arousal that he’s summoned. 

She feels the tremble in her thighs, the tight coiling of the release that’s quickly building in her core, making her so unsteady that her hands abandon his hair only to grapple with the headboard in an effort to keep herself  upright. 

The obscene noises of his skillful tongue working her dripping sex fill her ears only to be drowned out by her breathy moans partnered with deep, primal sounds that come from his mouth and reverberate through her body as he greedily accepts all that Elain has to offer.

 Her voice is so hoarse and so needy as she cries out his name over and over again. The warmth of an impending orgasm just begins to seep through each nerve in her body.

She feels the whisper of a shadow breeze over her taut nipples right as her vision shifts for the last time and she’s propelled back into his dark bedroom. 

…

Elain scrambles with the sheets as sits upright, pulling them tight against her heaving chest as she silently wills the room to stop spinning. 

She barely even registers Azriel next to her, propped up on an elbow with his chin resting in his hand as he watches her through sleepy eyes. 

“Please tell me that one was about me.”

Elain can’t even bring herself to laugh at his joke because she’s too busy replaying that vision scene by scene. 

Her first vision had been so straightforward, she had known what it was and what it had meant immediately. There had been no need for interpretation. This time was different, her mind races as she adds it all up in her head and tries to make sense of all the different factors. 

There was a priestess. 

A length of shiny black satin ribbon. 

Her nephew, no longer a babe, holding out a slice of cake. 

Cake, not rings .

It had been Azriel standing beside her. It had been Azriel with whom she had exchanged vows.

Elain feels like she’s going to be sick. 

It’s impossible. She can’t figure out how what she had seen could possibly happen. Because if that was how her future was to play out… if she was to be a part of a ceremony that involved the symbolic offering of food…  it  meant that certain aspects of her life as she knew it were not as they seemed. 

Her visions had always come true. Small details would change, yes. But for the most part, everything that she had ever seen had eventually come to fruition.  How could this be an exception?

“Elain?” Azriel sits up, his face serious as he kneels in bed next to her.  

All traces of sleep are gone, his eyes blaze with concern. He cradles her cheeks in his palms as he tilts her face up, forcing her to look at him. “Are you alright? What is it? What did you see?”

“You…” Elain takes a deep breath in, releases it slowly.

She says her next words so quietly, so whisper soft, that she’s not even sure Azriel had heard them until he goes completely still. His hands are frozen on her face as he stares into her eyes with a confused look that she’s sure matches her own. 

You’re my mate.

[apricoctopus]

Daily Dose Of Terrible Men

There are two things I miss in Act 2:

Being able to tell Astarion that "I used you, but then I kinda liked you" is a messed up thing to say and a heartbreaking thing to hear, even from a situationship.

Explanation why does Yurgir standing like 20 feet away can smell Raphael's perfume on Tav?

So I fixed it.

Raphael/fem!Tav (with a different name) + we have a guest appearance from another terrible man in the end. 1718 words and it's like PG-13 for a couple of bad words.

English is not first language but I don't let it stop me.

They set up camp on a small hill where darkness wasn’t so dense. During the day one could even see the sun here and at night pale stars glimpsed through the shroud of Shar’s curse.

Agartha sat on a root of some giant, long dead tree at the edge of the camp. The valley bellow of her drowned in darkness, seeping up into the air through bottomless chasms, dead and full of motion at the same time. Full of shadows, shifting, crawling, simmering like water on a stove, whispering.

From the shadows Agartha heard voices of her parents who called her a disgrace and a curse — as if it was her fault someone of her grannies or grandaddies had a fling with a fiend, tainting their children’s blood with corruption, that manifested generations later. She heard voices of every tavern keeper who claimed their establishment was too respectable to let a tiefling singer perform there, of people who called her a foulblood and a goat-face and said she would be almost pretty if she sawed her horns off.

And now Astarion’s voice would join the chorus saying he only needed her for “protection”.

Agartha sniffled, tears rolling down her face. Astarion tried to follow her there but she suggested he started looking for a new patron instead, because she was not going to put up with his nonsense anymore.

Of course, it was never about love with them, but she thought they at least liked each other?

She sniffled again so loudly she almost missed the sound she had grown so accustomed to in the last months. A whoosh of flame and magical energy accompanied by gust of hot air carrying sparkles and smell of cherries.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Once one of those sparkles burned a hole in Agartha’s cape and Raphael brought her a new one, made of heavy red velvet and adorned with embroidery — two golden dragons with coiled tails and spread out wings mirroring each other. She told everyone she found it in the goblin camp. No one believed her, of course, but what could they do about it?

Another time Raphael gave her a map with Last Light Inn marked on it. He was especially grumpy that day and wouldn’t stop mumbling that getting lost in such a small valley that literally had only two roads was almost impressive. The way the location was circled several times with bright red ink and had an arrow pointing at it felt a little bit passive aggressive, but it was helpful nonetheless.

He usually visited when she was alone and away from the others. Sometimes he would offer help like that time with the map and sometimes, in his own words, was simply checking on his favorite client. Sure, his warlock still kept an eye on their party, but after The Goblin Priestess Incident he had to personally make sure his Little Mouse wasn’t trying to wander into another trap.

Usually Agartha enjoyed these visits, but this time she was absolutely not ready to deal with Raphael. She had her daily dose of terrible men today. She tried to sneakily wipe off tears before Raphael noticed, but of course failed.

Raphael sat by her side and looked with expression she would call sympathetic if she didn’t know him better.

“Oh no, my dear, what happened? Who hurt my precious Little Mouse?”

“No one, Raphael. And don’t call me that. Could you leave me alone, please?”

She knew it was not going to work. He smiled at her softly, and that smile meant they both understood how futile her resistance was.

“Was it your pointy-eared friend? Tsk-tsk-tsk, I warned you he was trouble.”

As angry and sad as Agartha was, she snorted at the thought that even a literal devil didn’t approve her relationship with Astarion. Of course, in truth Raphael couldn’t care less about her unfortunate sex life, but it was funny anyway.

Raphael snapped fingers — Does he really have to show off like this all the time? — and a handkerchief appeared in his hand, pristine white satin with intricate lace and big “R” in the corner. For a moment Agartha was terrified he would try to wipe off her tears, but he simply handed it to her. The handkerchief smelled faintly of cherries.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. You can trust me, you know that.”

“Are you serious?”

Raphael pretended to be appalled, eyes wide, hand dramatically pressed against his chest.

“Why not? Have I not earned your trust? All this time I have been nothing but helpful to ensure you safely reach the end of your perilous journey! And this is how you repay me, with this blatant distrust? You mortals are so ungrateful. It hurts every time.”

It was stupid, but Agartha snorted with laughter again. There would be no crying and self-pitying until Raphael was done with pestering her.

“That’s better.” He wrapped his hand around her and gently pressed on her shoulder forcing to lean on him.

That was new.

Agartha put her head on Raphael’s shoulder, feeling soft fine leather of his doublet under her cheek. Even through all the layers of clothing between them she felt unnatural heat of his body. Under smell of perfume she felt a touch of sulfur and something light and fresh — soap? Aftershave? Raphael bent his neck slightly, putting his chin on Agartha’s head. She could only hope he wouldn’t poke his own eye out with her horns.

“Now you can tell me what happened. I can’t let my favorite client sit all alone crying in the dark. What if your comrades see their fearless leader like that? It will be awful for the morale.”

“I’m not their leader.”

“Oh, who is, then?”

She pondered at the question.

“Wyll, I guess?”

“Be serious, my dear. He is terrified of having to be responsible for himself, let alone a whole group of people.”

Agartha shifted uncomfortably. Right now Raphael could say whatever he wanted about Astarion, but she didn’t like him making fun of Wyll.

“You only say that because he already has his devil and won’t listen to another one.”

“Has his devil?” Raphael sounded amused. “Well, his loss, isn’t it? I am a way better patron than Mizora. What good has she ever done for the poor boy? And I can do so much for you. Show me who upset you and I will turn this villain into a… hm, how about a frog. Would you like that?”

“A frog? Are you secretly a hag?”

Raphael chuckled, while his had slipped down her shoulder, glided on rough linen of her shirt and finally rested comfortably on the waist. He pressed more firmly this time, forcing Agartha to move even closer.

“Tell me then, my Little Mouse, what else could I do to cheer you up?”

Agartha put her hand on his chest, and looked up to his face. Raphael observed her curiously, not letting go, waiting for what she would do next.

Her head felt completely empty and at the same time she was aware of every little thing around her. Cold damp air of the cursed land and infernal heat radiated by Raphael, last tears still burning in her eyes and his thumb caressing her skin, his chest moving calmly up and down under her hand and the soft fabric of the handkerchief she was still holding. She thought it was a bad idea, and a shitty move from him, doing all this while she was so upset, and that she would probably be angry at him later.

They sat close to the torches the party had put up around the camp to keep the shadows away. Their light was weak, dimmed by Shar’s curse, but enough to outline his face, eyelashes she secretly envied — Why would a man need such nice eyelashes?.. — and a net of crow’s feet around his eyes. Agartha briefly wondered if he added them to his human disguise on purpose, to make his gaze seem softer and kinder.

She leaned for a kiss.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU STUPID WOMAN?

Guardian’s voice boomed in her head like a giant bell. Agartha yelped, grabbing her spinning, aching head and burying it in her knees. Doing that she slammed into Raphael’s cheekbone with her horn making him swear in Infernal. She barely heard it with Guardian yelling at her from inside her head.

AFTER ONE TERRIBLE MAN YOU RUSH INTO PANTS OF ANOTHER! AND A DEVIL AT THAT! HAS THE TADPOLE EATEN YOUR BRAIN OR HAVE YOU NEVER HAD ONE?

 Agartha groaned.

“I didn’t rush into anyone’s pants, shut up, shut up, shutupshutup!”

“I have completely forgotten we are not alone. Little voice in your head does not approve, I suppose?”

Agartha looked at Raphael thought her fingers. His right cheek was red and marked with a long scratch that was already healing.

“Sorry about that,” she said weakly.

BE SORRY ABOUT YOUR POOR DECISIONS, YOU…

“Ah, please don’t worry. It is not your fault. And if your friends have heard anything, you can tell them you fought off a monster with your horns.” Raphael put a hand on her back, and Guardian’s voice suddenly faded. She could still hear it as if from far away, separated from her by thick glass. “This is unfortunate, of course, but I assure you, soon you will be free from your stowaway and that… creature whispering into your ear. Or, judging by your reaction, it’s more like screaming.”

Raphael patted her back. After that intense moment they just shared the gesture felt awkward but somehow genuine.

“Can’t you take it out now?”

“I can, but I won’t.”

Agartha straitened and looked him right in the face.

“Go to Hell, Raphael.”

“I guess it is time that I do just that. Don’t be upset, Little Mouse, very soon your ordeal will be over. And then we will continue this conversation.”

With these words he disappeared in a vortex of magical flames before she could say anything.

Agartha sat in the dark, cold and alone, head still spinning.

I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.

“Oh, fuck off.”

[cheswirls]

vampire thing for spooky month :)

-

sabo’s eyes are a pale grey-green, but under the moonlight, they shine a brilliant blue that reflects the gemstone in the pendant he has holding his cravat in place. 

it’s snowing. what once had been easier to bear deep in the forest with large trees blocking the wind becomes almost unbearable in the small town they’ve come to. she shivers and then tries to distract herself from the cold by asking after the pendant.

sabo glances down at it, and she watches as a warm, easy smile takes up the lower half of his face. “ace gave it to me.”

well. she’d been about to make a remark about it being old-fashioned, but his words make her reconsider. if it were precious, sentimental, then of course wearing it despite it being dated would be fine. expected, even. 

she asks about the top hat, next. with the wine red ribbon tied to its base. sabo taps a finger on the brim, knocking it up a bit higher on his forehead. “admittedly, i chose this one myself. but it was with ace’s money, so i count it as a gift from him as well.”

on and on it goes, as they stand just outside one of the only shops to be open this late at night. the neatly shined riding boots, the fancy leather gloves, and the elaborate chain on the ornate pocket watch were all gifts carefully chosen by sabo and paid for by ace. even the warm, woolen duster draped around sabo’s lanky frame – the same that she’d had to refuse to wear to avoid dragging the hem around on the cobblestone roads.

“i wouldn’t trust him with my choice in fashion,” sabo reveals with a sly wink. “but if i incline that i like a particular item, it will become mine in short time. ace is thoughtful like that.” the door to the shop opens, spilling warm light out onto the road, and illuminating sabo’s face for a brief instant. “speaking of which–”

he leaves off just in time for something soft and heavy to be laid upon her back.

-

sabo watches rebecca’s expression change as ace moves from behind her to stand at sabo’s side. when she remains frozen stiff, only able to turn her head to gaze down at the thick material on her shoulder, sabo takes it upon himself to step forward and adjust the coat to cover her thin frame properly.

he steps back again and nods in approval. “you did well,” he speaks, words directed at ace without his eyes leaving their new charge. “how is it?”

this question he asks rebecca directly, and it seems it’s just enough to snap her out of her daze. she looks down to take in the length, then starts wiggling both arms into the sleeves. it fits her perfectly. ace really had a good eye for these things.

“i hope the color is fine,” ace mutters into the cold, breath fogging up in the air. he’s barely dressed appropriately for the weather. sabo finds himself moving closer before he realizes, wrapping both of his arms around the one of ace’s nearest to him, then leaning into his side for good measure.

“the color doesn’t matter,” sabo replies, and rebecca nods in agreement.

“it’s really good,” she agrees, finally looking up to give ace a wide smile. it’s still laced with hesitation, but that’s understandable, given her history. her circumstance. the reason she’s here, alone with two near-strangers on an empty road in the middle of the night. she does up a few of the closures in the middle, then lightly turns on her heels so the hem flares out as she spins. “i feel so much warmer already.”

sabo can see in her eyes that she’s resisting commenting anything that would make her appear as a burden. the material is thick and rich, but she doesn’t say a word on the quality or how expensive it must have been. or the time ace had spent in choosing it for her, then having it hemmed so it didn’t drag along the ground. 

it’s no matter. ace likes spending his money to make people happy. he has little use for it elsewise. 

rebecca moves forward and wraps around ace on the side sabo isn’t occupying. ace smiles and hugs her back, letting her tuck herself under his one arm. 

sabo . . . suddenly realizes what was bothering ace earlier. the instinctual urge to separate ace from rebecca comes on swift and strong. it’s a completely misplaced reaction, he knows this, which is why it’s so frustrating that he can’t quell it. 

he’d made ace feel inadequate earlier, when ace had confessed feeling the same. it’s why he’d gone into the shop alone, while sabo and rebecca waited outside in the cold. a completely irrational territorial feeling. rebecca is young and traumatized and absolutely zero threat to either of them. but she’s new, and to ace and sabo, who have only ever had each other for so, so long, something new like this in their midst is terrifying to come to terms with.

sabo carefully resists the snarl building just behind his lips. he parts from ace of his own free will, hoping the distance will calm such intense feelings of envy. rebecca may be new to all of this, but her senses are already heightened. it wouldn’t do any good for her to pick up on either of their arbitrary malice.

ace glances at him but doesn’t comment aloud. good. he’d rather refrain from having to explain himself.

considering the late hour, they opt to head home for the night and come to town another time to secure more belongings for rebecca. she’d have to make do with what they had in the townhouse for now. which, well . . . certainly left a lot to choose from, to say the least.

hopefully by next time they’re here, rebecca will not feel the cold as much. for now, sabo lets her cling to ace on their way back, choosing to walk a few paces behind them to keep them in his sights. 

he tries to resurface his initial thoughts on rebecca, to quell his mentality telling him she’s such a threat. she’s ex-royalty from a small dukedom that had gone up in smoke overnight. the citizens there had nothing but scorn for her, looking down upon her and her bloodline because of their hatred for her grandfather. that fact had starkly reminded sabo of ace. when he’d learned it, he’d been unable to differentiate between the two. their situations were eerily similar. 

before the country was razed overnight, rebecca had lived a miserable life full of scorn and hostility. her only saving grace was her mother. she’d been holding hands with her when ace and him had found her, alive but in bad condition. the mother was long past the point of saving. rebecca was lucky to have survived herself. the deep bite on the side of her neck probably had a hand in that. 

-

the forest is thick around them, conifer trees so high they block out the moon’s full glow. shadows cast long and dark on the ground, making the surface dangerous to traverse for those that didn’t know the lay of the land.

ace holds her hand and carefully guides her across the landscape, helping her avoid all manner of sprawling roots and other unseen obstacles. his eyes glimmer, bright in the darkness. rebecca vaguely wonders when her own night vision will mature. instead of wishing for it to be soon, she accepts ace’s offered assistance with humility. 

sabo isn’t visible, though rebecca knows he has to be close by, wandering just out of sight. or perhaps he’d gone ahead, unable to bear their slow pace. either option has an equal possibility of being true.

while they’re to themselves, rebecca asks a question that’s been on her mind for some time. ace’s answer comes after a long pause.

“i don’t know. everyone is different, and sabo was a special case. it’s been so long that i can’t recall the details. you’d have better luck asking him yourself.”

“as for me . . .”

they break the treeline, coming out into a large clearing, and she digs her heels into the grass, refusing to move another step. “you were born a vampire?”

“it’s rare,” ace admits, “but not completely unheard of. not uncommon, once upon a time. especially where i came from. that means i can’t relate to you in that regard. you’ll have to ask sabo.”

“he got . . . turned,” rebecca repeats to herself, allowing ace to pull the both of the toward the large structure on the opposite side of the clearing. “was it bad?”

“no, no.” ace smiles, something small and careful. something rebecca barely catches, with ace’s face turned away and a large cloud drifting in front of the moon to cast them into shadow. “if anything, it was special.”

special. the way he says it affirms for rebecca that it was completely different from their terrifying experience. she refrains from asking about it further. to ace, anyway.

sabo looks up after being met with the abrupt question. he’s standing behind rebecca as she sits on the edge of the tub now filled with lukewarm water. there’s a brush in his hand, and he’d been running it carefully through her long hair. easier this way, he’d said, since mirrors were useless as she is now. 

easier to have someone else do it. that’s what rebecca took it as. she also took this as an admission that sabo let ace take care of his hair. ace’s is long enough that sabo might also do the same in return. maybe. it wasn’t worth thinking on at the moment.

“ace did turn me, but it was of my own free will,” sabo says softly, almost too quiet to hear. “that must be such a foreign concept to you. ace was at a loss, like you, way back when. wondering why i would ever choose a life like this. he was . . . well . . . he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

the unspoken words, like us, hang in the air like a deadly fog. rebecca’s violent turning didn’t make this any less true. it takes time for the effects to happen. that gradual transition meant there was plenty she could’ve done to avoid this outcome. had she the willpower. or the desire.

no, the desire to kill herself was there. less so, after meeting ace and sabo, but still bubbling under the surface. she could have prevented this. but they convinced her to come along, and to give it a chance, as horrible as it was. to keep on living, as a free person, something she’d been denied almost since her birth. the chance was so tempting, so tangible that she had to take it.

sabo brushes her hair out until he’s satisfied, then braids it carefully so it’ll be out of her way while it finishes drying. the nightclothes she borrows drape on her frame, but they’re loose and warm and comforting enough that she hardly minds the poor fit. 

“i asked him for it. because i loved him. all those years ago.”

sabo’s hand runs carefully down the back of rebecca’s head, right up to the base of the braid. he repeats the motion over and over, and rebecca relaxes each time he starts again, reminded so much of her mother that it physically aches.

she’d asked the question as a distraction, but now she regrets it. her curiosity has only grown. she’d come to this room where sabo lies reading to avoid being alone in the small bedroom she’d been given, but at this rate she’ll never fall asleep.

“i still love him,” sabo tacks on, when she questions. “of course i do. i always will. ace is . . he’s always been special.”

that makes her feel better. by his previous wording, she’d taken it to mean sabo no longer held the feelings and was staying with ace purely out of obligation. the two had kept their distance from each other for almost the entire day. it left a completely different impression than when they had turned up to the smoking ruins of her ravaged country. 

she’d made a false assumption that they were avoiding each other, but now that that had been cleared up, she’s suddenly not too eager to know the real reason only one of them seemed to hang around her at any given time. she had a strong feeling knowing this will give her an incredible sense of guilt. she already has her plate full with negative emotions, so adding another to the pile is an unbearable thought. better to play it safe than sate her curiosity.

-

rebecca is very young and very nervous, confused, and scared. that’s normal. it’s a normal reaction to the horror of war she’d had to endure, on top of the trauma of being turned so violently. sabo had cracked that vampire’s skull beneath the heel of his boot. rebecca had pulled ace’s hand away from her eyes to watch. 

ace has a weak spot for children. sabo’s altruistic nature means he can’t abandon anyone in need. these traits of their means they should be home to a whole host of the misfortunate, but against all odds, it’s remained the two of them in this dwelling for many, many years. 

this sudden, drastic change is frying ace’s nerves. rebecca is not a threat. she’s not, and yet ace can’t help but see her as one, when he walks in and sees how carefully sabo dotes on her, like she’s a china doll that could break at the slightest use of force.

she’s fallen deep asleep when ace moves into the room. given the long day they’d all endured, it’s no surprise. still, ace uses the chance to leave her lying by the dying fire, only allowing sabo to throw a blanket over her form before dragging him from the room.

he gives up on the dragging part as soon as their feet leave the rug and hit the hard wood. sabo is hoisted into his strong arms without protest. they barely make it out into the hall before ace has him pressed up against the wall, crowding close to keep him there, and to eliminate the distance between them.

sabo opens his mouth to protest, then breathes out a sigh at the nips ace leaves along the column of his throat. his nightshirt is baggy enough that the collar shifts when he tilts his head, revealing the expanse of skin between his neck and shoulder. ace buries his face there, carelessly tracing over the space with his lips.

“you don’t need to be jealous,” sabo murmurs. he grows too short of breath to say much else when ace’s fangs dig into his flesh.

-

in the morning, ace winds a scarf carefully around sabo’s shoulders. he has a particular apologetic look on his face when he winds it up high enough to cover the bite mark he’d left the night before. it had been a careless gesture, but sabo doesn’t hold it against him. he’d felt the same way, after all. wanting ace all to himself, and as far away from their new company as possible.

said new company had looked awkward as hell just a few minutes before, when she’d been greeted with the sight of a clearly-ravaged sabo so early in the morning. the reaction left ace preening, though sabo managed to get him to settle before he could gloat aloud. best not to make their new charge feel even more alienated than she already is.

the snow falls thick. sabo has his duster on again if only so he’ll blend in better. it’s not like he can feel the cold anymore.

ace’s gesture is purely symbolic, with this in mind. sabo doesn’t need the extra layer, but since it’s ace putting it on him, of course he’ll accept it. he won’t take it off until ace removes it later in the day when he sees fit to do so. 

when ace’s hands stop adjusting the fabric to rest on either of sabo’s shoulders, sabo finally leans in close and pecks ace on the lips. because it’s them, of course it turns into something drawn-out. at least rebecca isn’t here to witness.

ace dusts the snow off from atop sabo’s head, then places his tophat there and adjusts until he’s satisfied. “come back soon,” he murmurs, words only meant for sabo’s ears.

sabo smiles in lieu of a reply. he always does. “look after rebecca for me.”

“of course! she likes me better, anyway.”

this draws a snort out of sabo. he steps out of ace’s embrace. “okay.”

“she does! i’m more relatable.”

“that depends on which front,” sabo argues.

“you know which,” ace mutters. “the ‘being hated from birth’ bit. the ‘ridiculed because of something out of your control’. she’s adjusting to being turned as much as anyone in her position. but the . . .” ace pauses, stops before he can glance over his shoulder, and then steps back into sabo’s personal space. “living life like that for so long is harder to put behind you. have you noticed how considerate she is, despite all her curiosity?”

“like she’s afraid of being considered a burden. yes, i have. it frustrates me too. i want her to know we aren’t going to kick her to the curb if she’s not the perfect housemate. we brought her here to take care of her. she’s letting us, yes, but–”

“not fully,” ace finishes. “not completely. she can’t be vulnerable. i get that. it’s going to take some time. i didn’t let go of that wall i built around myself until . . well.”

until me, sabo thinks, but refrains from saying aloud. it makes him smile anyway. he wraps ace up in a hug that gets returned with twice the vigor. “love you.”

“love you,” ace hushes back. “i’ll look after her, don’t worry. and i’ll try and be better, about seeing the two of you together.”

“we both need to work on that. i’m at fault too.”

“it’ll be an adjustment on all fronts.” ace frowns as he steps back. “are you sure she shouldn’t come with you? we could make it another family outing–”

“no, i’m sure,” sabo interrupts, not sure he likes the notion of family coming from ace’s mouth. not at this stage. rebecca is a sweetie, even if she’s pitiful and frail at the moment. but she’s still someone new, and sabo doesn’t want to consider her family when ace has been his only family for as long as he cares to remember. “she needs to rest. show her around the house. the forest. anywhere you want, as long as it’s not far. try and make her feel more at ease. i’ll return before too long.”

before the sun is up, he means. the morning will continue long and dark yet, but eventually, the sun will rise and gleam from around the thick clouds gathered overhead. it’s a blessing that winters around these parts bring long and dark days, but the sun is not unavoidable. sabo only has so much time to procure rebecca’s new belongings. he hopes he can pick things to her taste, like ace could the previous night.

-

sabo moans in his sleep.

had ace not been half awake, he wouldn’t have caught it. sabo’s being that quiet. but he’s perceptible, and it’s easy to feel sabo shifting in his arms. 

ace leans more heavily onto sabo’s back. he presses his lips to sabo’s neck in what is meant to be a comforting gesture. instead, it leaves sabo rearing up, almost headbutting ace. he breathes out and in with two thick gasps, and then before ace can tighten his arms to hold him closer, he’s up out of the bed.

ace has enough time to move his head and catch sabo vanishing out the door. before he’s even sat up or contemplated following after him, a high-pitched scream from someone other than sabo reaches him.

it takes little time for ace to reach the room they’d left rebecca for the day, but he lingers outside, not wanting to add another presence to someone who . . . seems very frightened already.

she’s curled up with her legs pressed to her torso, and her shaking shoulders and muffled noises suggest she’s crying. ace watches sabo pull her close and set her sideways on his lap, one arm around her back and the other around her shins. the hold makes it easier to keep her close to his chest. 

ace can’t see any logic in the way rebecca moves her head from her knees to bury in sabo’s soft sleep shirt instead. since she’s still turning, she has some form of body heat still lingering. but sabo has none. so maybe it’s the want for a comforting presence? 

keeping this in mind, ace no longer has any qualms about passing through the threshold and kneeling beside the pair. sabo is bent down close so he can hush and whisper sweet words close to rebecca’s ear. ace settles on her other side and wraps his arms around sabo, effectively squishing the young girl between them both. 

sabo glances up and gives him a warm smile. ace does his best to return it. they sure had gotten themselves in an unfortunate situation, with this one. despite feeling this way, ace can’t bring himself to regret it. 

later, when she’s stopped sniveling, sabo gets up to brew a special blend of tea that works to settle their nerves when either of them gets anxious. he leaves ace with rebecca, and with only sabo as a frame of reference to know how to comfort someone, ace takes a chance and slowly undoes rebecca’s long braid.

he’s carding his fingers through the wavy strands when sabo returns, figure revealed by candlelight. he stops to observe, gaze fixed on ace’s hands in such a way that has ace slowing to a stop halfway down. 

rebecca has her back turned to him, but when he does this, she looks over her shoulder in question. ace resumes the easy motions, casting a pointed glance in sabo’s direction and motioning him further in.

they really . . . have to work on this whole possessiveness both of them have going on.

sabo presents rebecca with a steaming mug that she wraps her skinny fingers around. he’s lit one of his special marbled candles, and rebecca seems taken in by all the swirling colors the pillar is made of. it already smells amazing, but that’s ace’s opinion. to rebecca, it might . . . take some getting used to. ace wonders if her recognizing one of the scents will upset her. since sabo’s brought this one out, he must have considered such a thing and determined it worth risking. ace trusts his judgment enough not to bring it up.

in sabo’s other hand, he slowly unwraps a package made out of wax paper. inside is another treat – little butter cookies with chocolate coating on the bottom. rebecca perks up when she recognizes a sweet smell, and sabo carefully holds one out for her to take, then picks up a second and reaches until it’s close enough to place directly into ace’s open mouth.

he sets the remaining on the ground near the candle, then stands once more. when he returns this time, it’s with a thick blanket that he wraps around rebecca’s front, draping it over her shoulders but not in the way of ace’s handiwork.

ace moves higher and slowly roves his fingertips down her scalp, just like how sabo always likes it. rebecca leans back into his hold, so it’s safe to say she likes it too. 

eventually, rebecca relaxes enough to fall back into ace’s chest. ace gives up on combing through her hair and wraps his arms loosely around her waist. she’s bundled up in the blanket, only leaving wiggle room to have her arms out so she can drink her tea of her own accord. 

the candlestick has melted maybe half an inch, the wax now collected in the saucer at its base. there’s no way to tell which of it has calmed rebecca down without revealing their hand, so neither of them comment. another time. there’s . . . going to be another time. ace accepts this rather easily. rebecca isn’t going anywhere for a long while. as long as they can help it. assuming she’ll want to stay.

ace finds he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he did a few days ago. he’s never had anyone younger than him to take care of. sabo had been a special case, and of course ace had doted on him, but he’d never played the role of caretaker quite like this before. 

rebecca drinks all of her tea. ace holds out a hand for her to deposit the empty mug into, and when he lifts it to his nose to smell the dredges, he finds it indeed contains the powdery scent of blood under the more cloying scent of citrus and cinnamon. so sabo had used that mixture after all. and rebecca had drank it all, unknowingly or not. 

they’ll have to have a conversation about this before too long. it won’t take much more time for rebecca to fully transition out of being human, and the drastic change in lifestyle will bear down on her more heavily than any of them can imagine.

but for now . . . for now, she appears to have fallen back asleep. ace lets sabo take the mug when he reaches for it, and blows out the candle before leaving the room. ace is afraid to move, or leave the poor girl alone, so he only shifts to lean back against the bed and tries to make himself comfortable. 

the curtains are thick, so the room stays dark even at midday, when the sun is shining weakly through the thick blanket of clouds. it’s snowing again. ace wonders how cold it is, for the girl in his arms that can still feel the cold. maybe they should move her to a room with a furnace for the duration of winter. 

it’s not like sleeping between him and sabo will warm her up, so there’s no point in moving her in with the two of them. but, on the other hand . . he thinks about why he came in even when sabo seemed to have the situation under control. why they both held her so carefully. why she woke up screaming, and why sabo was so restless and sensitive to it before it had even happened.

“should we move her to the living room?” sabo murmurs, crouching down by ace’s side. ace had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even realized sabo had come back in. he shakes his head.

“let’s stay here,” he whispers back. “as long as the both of us are close by, she should sleep a little longer.”

sabo gets it. his eyes soften. he nods and retreats to grab another quilt, this time spreading this one on the floor to make it more comfortable for the pair of them to sprawl out on the hard ground. he nestles against ace’s side, leaning his cheek on ace’s shoulder. 

ace loves him so much that his heart aches.

-

“i smell bad?”

ace takes a break from his digging in the snow to look up at her. he looks right at her, too, despite the low lighting. twilight had come and gone a few hours prior, but with so much snow on the ground, the sky wasn’t really dark. the clouds reflected and appeared this deep lavender color. it was oddly mystifying to someone who’d grown up on a summer island. 

her eyesight may not have improved, but her sense of smell was another story. she wrinkles her nose and nods, then reconsiders and shakes her head. “not bad like you need a wash,” she clarifies. “it’s just, um, a personal dislike.”

ace is somewhat wrapped in clothes, and only moderately dressed for the weather. he tugs his sleeve up to sniff at his arm, then frowns and glances back over at her with his brow arched. “this is how i always smell. you’ll have to get used to it. what’s bad about it?”

rebecca pouts at the thought. “it’s like a strong mix of earthy spices,” she decides. “too many together that clash.” and also soil, to throw the whole concoction out. maybe fertilizer, too, like the kind used for sunflower fields. 

her shoulders droop. this place is pretty, but it’s so cold and wet. no flowers bloom here. she misses them.

“can’t help what comes natural to me.” ace shrugs, busying himself again with his task. “and besides, sabo likes it. i’m not changing on account of that. eventually, you won’t even notice it anymore.”

okay, that’s actually so sweet. rebecca can’t argue with that logic. she wonders if the scent of ace is familiar to sabo too, if he’d grown up somewhere surrounded by a lot of nature. 

sabo just smells like sea salt, so she doubts it. like he��d spent his early years on a boat, and the scent of such had lingered all these years. 

when he comes out to fetch the pair of them, there’s no moonlight to turn his eyes from green to grey. but they still manage to glimmer in an odd in-between shade of them both. when rebecca stands up straight, hands falling to his shoulders to hoist herself onto her tiptoes, the eyes that stare back at her still appear more blue than anything else. 

she refuses to answer when sabo asks what she’s doing, running back to ace’s side instead. ace gives in and lifts her onto his shoulders, holding both of her hands tight and grinning at sabo as they walk past him back into the townhouse.

she wants to enjoy these easy, carefree moments for as long as possible. 

especially when she can feel herself getting hungry.

-

hi hi now that i have your attention!!! this is super duper inspired by this saboace au that i could not get out of my brain, pls give it a read!!!!!

[pandorafallz]

Ashes in her wake | C2

Alma sipped slowly from her cool cup of herbal tea, her head still feeling foggy and tired but far better than she had been in the last couple of days since waking up after her transfer. Her body was healing well, according to Okul who had been tending to her more often and had the singular daily visit from Anufi to verify all was on track. Her visits were often very short.

Her burns were still bad and had another week to heal with dressing before she’d have to let it breathe and heal for a few days without, and her broken rib was still healing. It was estimated to be about two weeks before she’d be able to be more physically adventurous. A human bone, or rib, would take over a month to heal but Na’vi and Dreamwalker bodies were more resilient and coupled with efficient Na’vi medical treatments, the time was far shorter. The bruises looked bad but healing around the edges now. Most of the stitches from the debris had been removed this morning so she was feeling a little drained from that experience.

She had been left to rest in a quiet area of the Hollows, away from the people and she was thankful for the privacy when possible. She had been resting mostly when children would try and sneak in before their parents quickly pulled them away. Alma knew why; they had never seen a Dreamwalker before. Innocent souls with vast curious minds but she often remained posed as asleep so as to not make it awkward.

Still, the privacy had its… odd lonely tendencies when Okul wasn’t around so she kept herself occupied when not asleep with a few simple tasks, like spinning flax which was the easiest thing to do in her current state. Before Raj had joined the resistance on the second visit, Alma had to make or alter her own clothes for her avatar, a skill she had picked up after her first meeting with the Aranahe but she was no expert. She had learned it mostly to talk to the weavers and to get to know the clan better but it didn’t last. Spinning she could do, sorting fibres and combing it was another so it filled the hours without being too adventurous.

At least the tea was good. It helped bring down the swellings since. Her threadwork was set aside for now as she rested.

“<Dreamwalker,>” Okul appeared around the entryway quite cheerfully with a new set of bowls. “<I have brought food. Anufi is back. I believe she’ll join us soon so, while we wait, you should eat. A full belly is a happy one.>” They set the bowls down, simple meat and mushroom stew and took one to eat themselves to sip.

“<Thank you.>” She set her tea down, shifting the blanket from her legs and slowly reached forward and pulled it towards her, inhaling the savoury scent that drifted up.

“<How did you sleep? Resting well?>”

Alma took a hearty sip, chewing down slowly on a large piece of white mushroom with a stilled expression. “<Not really. Small dozing is dreamless.>” Fragments of memory always seemed to resurface at night although it was mostly Nor’s stabbing of her that replayed often, leaving her waking up at odd times shivering with phantom sensation down her right side. Resting during the day gave her some reprieve but… it hadn’t helped clear her head. She was fine. She could handle it.

It took years to stop seeing the Moot in her nightmares. Life had been easier once that had stopped. Something else now just took its place. She was sure Okul might have something to induce a dreamless sleep but that was a question for later.

“<Ah,I suppose that is still expected.>” Okul didn’t sound surprised, “<It has only been six days since…>” They trailed off but they both knew their implication.

“<I am aware.>” Her hand came to her side, not touching over the dressing too hard. “<how is the clan? It’s been very quiet. Only one child seemed to wander in earlier.>”

“<Very busy with the resistance. I don’t know too much myself but it seems very big and the Zeswa are very unhappy since the sky people brought down the celebration arches—>”

Alma almost choked on her stew, her eyes widening in alarm as she stiffened up. “<The RDA brought down the arches?!>”

Okul blinked in surprise at her outburst. “< A terrible event but the site was shut down by our Sarentu friend, they were there and saw it happen. The Upper Plains should not be attacked again with such horrible machines.>”

“<Is.. is she okay?>”

“<Of course, the Sarentu is a very good warrior. I do not know what has happened since but do not worry.>” Okul said, very firm in their belief and assurance.

Alma’s heart hammered before she forced herself to take a steady breath. Because… like it or not, she knew Kìoetey was a good warrior and no doubt had it handled and she didn’t doubt her skills but… she worried. Perhaps it was the maternal side of her that never had much of a chance to bloom due to Mercer’s interpersonal restrictions between her and the kids (and other personal reasons). Kìoetey was fine, they said.

Still. The Arches collapse was no small event either; the Zeswa were probably foaming at the mouth for revenge. At least The Resistance had all the tools to help warn and aid the Zeswa in achieving it without it turning into a one-sided slaughter against the Na’vi. Maybe she could help once she was cleared by Anufi somehow?

“<Relax. You’ll hurt yourself.>” Okul’s hand touched her wrist, reminding her of her bowl before she sat back with a huff.

“<I... I should be allowed to return to the Resistance now. I can probably be more helpful there than here.>” She could actually talk to So’lek and her people again. Socialise, even. It’d be pleasant to talk to them and she was sure a shared task would make it easier. She didn’t doubt the spread of gossip but it was probably worth the trip.

“<You’re not healed. You’d hinder them more than help in your current state, Alma.>” Okul said

“<I… I have to do something. I am part of the resistance.>”

“<You are doing something. Resting.>” Okul stated, “<You cannot fight and you have the concentration of a child and the sleeping pattern of a baby. I don’t believe you’ve fully realised the extent of what truly happened to you. It’s not quite there.>” They tapped their temple.

Alma shot them an annoyed look. “<My head is getting better.>”

“<Better does not mean healed. You’ve endured a significant trauma to not only this body but to your spirit; your spirit must rest to heal from being severed from your sky-people body and replanted into this. A few more days at the least before we can consider allowing you to roam free as a Meer deer. A sick or separating spirit can lead to never waking up. Are you willing to risk such a possibility?>”

“Ugh.” Alma groaned into the bowl, taking a less heartfelt glug but there was clearly no way to convince the Tsakarem here to allow her out. Their heart and mind was clearly set. At least the food was nice.

Okul sighed deeply. “<I know you are anxious to return but you must think of yourself as well. Once you’re done eating, I can show you where to put the threads you’re spinning to use.>”

Alma threw a glance at her basket but begrudgingly nodded. “<Okay.>”

She supposed it would be useful to know more things if she was going to be like this for another few days. She had no idea where her clothes were so she was given a spare waistcloth and top for the meantime which took some getting used to but she looked forward to returning for her old clothes. Maybe Raj could help her get something together as well? Increase her wardrobe. She’ll see, she supposed.

Alma eyed Okul’s clothing for a moment, on what inspiration she could draw from them, however, her curiosity piqued as she noticed the strap around their chest. She had seen them before, but… they did look good; very well crafted.

“<Those bottles you have on you, did you make those bottles yourself?>” She hadn’t seen many Na’vi wear them so… maybe that was more worth learning about as well.

Okul looked down to their chest, where the string lay crossed to their left side. They hummed curiously and pulled out forward. “<This interests you?>”

“<Yes, our bottles are made of glass or metal. I’d love to learn more of this… if you’d show me>”

Okul hummed far more cheerfully, their eyes lighting up excitedly. “<I’ll get the supplies. This will be fun>”

-

Okul was a good teacher, and it burned through time as they let her craft with them but she had only made one successful bottle, made from Meer Deer horn, twine and various plant saps that were heated at a few different temperatures to achieve different goals, such as waterproofing, glue and means of sealing the bottle of leaks. All fascinating.

She was quite proud of her bottle, just smaller than her palm but she let Okul fill it with some painkilling medicine so she painted a cross on its front in green paint with her little finger since it was the only colour on hand.

“<What is that symbol?>” Okul asked as she set it to dry.

“<It’s a Cross symbol. Sometimes religious in a human context but a red cross is a human symbol of healing, impartial humanitarian care and neutrality. Earth has a group devoted to care and this symbol is used to signify It.>” Alma explained, “<The group does not exist on Pandora so a cross, regardless of colour is more generic and often found on our medical packs to simply signify medical aid.>”

“<Fascinating.>”

“<If you’re curious, Kìoetey might show you where they are in abandoned sky people camps. I noticed she carries the gel packs from the kits for and from her missions.>”

“<Perhaps. I did not realise symbols like this carried weight.>”

“<Humans have had a written language for thousands of years, the symbols we have on boxes are often text to describe the group who owns them, the weight and size, the content and potential hazards>” Alma explained, “<I should probably draw out the symbols if you continually poke at sky people stuff… so you don’t hurt yourself.>”

“<I doubt that will be necessary but I appreciate your suggestion.>” Okul declined but finished up with the thread and took the bottle from her hands and showed her how to wrap the bottle and secure it. Hot wax was used to hold it into place before it was returned.

“<Thank you.>”

Alma slowly helped clear up with Okul, wincing a few times as she did so and Okul carried the tray away before she was left alone. Her fingers playing with her bottle, debating on if it was worth taking another nap because she was feeling tired now. The craft session had been fun but now… she was drained.

She sighed deeply, moving back into the blankets on the floor and lay back…

…

…

“<Alma. It is time for you to wake up. >”

The noise was abrupt, pulling her mind from the blissful dark within a couple of moments, her resting heart picking up quickly and her eyes snapped open to the hazy few of someone leaning over her. She groaned, blinking rapidly and rubbed her eyes before she realised it was Anufi.

Anufi was looking tenser than she had seen her before but clearly ready for something. She handed over a vial. “<Drink, this will provide you more energy.>”

Alma blearily held it, taking note of the tear-shaped bottle and tasselled stopper before she pulled the top off and down it. The taste was bitter and salty, but she felt the immediate surge of energy; her sleepy mind sharpened and her heart seemed to pick up fast within her chest. “Woah…”

Anufi’s head tilted, her hand coming to her chest first to feel her heart then pulled her hand up to the slight shake the new energy was giving her. Not quite like an adrenaline shot but it certainly felt like it. “<I should have allowed only half, I didn’t realise you’d absorb it so quickly. My apologies.>”

“<I’m a rapid metaboliser… the effect may wear off sooner than usual>” She had that as a human too but it was only ever prominent when drinking coffee… or back when she had an epidural for the C-section. She was surprised Anufi hadn’t clocked on sooner but… she supposed the daily visits weren’t enough to see. Okul knew given how many times they upped her medicinal tea strength the last week.

“<Then take a moment. The Sarentu are here and I feel your spirit is settled within this form enough to share your memories with them.>”

“<What? Today?!>” Alma couldn’t shake the alarm in her voice. “<I thought I had more time…>” She suddenly felt under prepared. Surely there was a few more days or hours for her to get mentally geared for this.

“<There is much happening that you do not know of and the Sarentu have waited long enough.>” Anufi said, not uncaring but stern in her words. “<I am not asking you, either. I did not tell you earlier so as not to get you too riled with anxiety or attempt to escape.>”

Alma swallowed thickly, her gaze dropping. “<I wouldn’t have run>” Not just on the basis of having a broken rib that was still healing but she couldn’t do that to the kids. The truth was coming out and she accepted that… just not suddenly and then and there. It was suddenly very overwhelming.

“<I can’t know that. You kept them in the dark for sixteen years and asleep for fifteen more. You have not been honest.>”

Alma sighed deeply and slowly scrambled out of her blankets, pulling her waistcloth straight as well as her top, her side aching uncomfortably so she kept her hand pressed softly to the dressing. Her tail didn’t settle and swished continually as she nodded for Anufi to lead the way; best to get this over with, right?

The stares were lingering, burning as she passed the people and some, she was glad did not notice her as they were too busy with their own work. She was led down and out of the main left-side structure and down past Heykinak who was crafting a new bow.

“<… is Anufi really letting a Dreamwalker into the Circle of Ancestors?>” A Kame’tire whispered of soft disapproval to her friend. “<It’s not right.>”

Alma stamped down her feelings in regards to that and instead focused ahead to see both Kìoetey and Ri’nela waiting close to the whispering Greatcaps.

Both looked a little mentally preoccupied but Kìoetey was crouched and content. Ri’nela was pacing a little, not so at peace but both turned their way at their entry into the circle. A few woodsprites bouncing close.

Kìoetey spared a look at her then away, then sharply back as if suddenly recognising her. “Alma?” She asked, her eyes dropping down to take her in fully. “You’re wearing Na’vi clothes?”

Alma’s arms came and wrapped around her chest, feeling a little self-conscious at the attention. “I didn’t have my clothes coming here. It was this or my underwear.” She felt the heat flood her ears and cheeks. At least her hair was the same.

“Ah,” Kìoetey nodded, “I forgot about that. Sorry, I should have asked So’lek or someone to bring some down.”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Ri’nela spoke, drawing their attention. “<Now is the time for answers.>”

“<Indeed. Connect with Eywa, all who wish to see. I will stand by should you need me>” Anufi said, offering a space near the mushroom.

Alma’s stomach churned with dread and anxiety as she knelt by the strand of the Greatcaps, cool to touch with her fingers as she pulled it towards her, her other hand finding her kuru slowly but she found herself staring.

A hand touched her shoulder, almost burning but there was a soft squeeze. “<No more stalling.>”

“<I know…>” but she was scared. She knew she must tell this truth but… what would come of it.. she had no idea. Of course, she knew it’d only be worse if she kept finding reasons not to do this; the Sarentu wanted their answers. She couldn’t hide it forever.

Alma took a final breath before she let the end of her kuru curl around before she felt the familiar wash of white….

Then the next she found herself standing in the middle of a forest tunnel. Familiar in terms of a path once walked; the tunnels of the moot site. Eywa’s construct to house her memories in this visits to transverse rather than jumping to memory after memory. Allowing an ease of observation. Her memory was hazy but clearing the longer she stood there. Distant memories she had tried to suppress seemed to bubble and settle in the conceptual forest around her and waiting for her steps.

Them. Their steps

She wasn’t alone but she could feel Ri’nela and Kìoetey behind her close.

“Why is it dark?” Ri’nela asked. Her voice rang in her ears.

“I suppressed a lot of my memory,” Alma admitted. “I... I wanted to lock it away. From myself. From you.”

“To make it easier for you?”

“Guilt and shame will do that. It was my coping method. Now it all lies ahead of me.” She stared down the tunnel but found the strength to move and take the first few steps. “I know I have to show you the truth.”

The tunnel seemed so long and yet, she soon found herself at the first scene she had seen of the clan, the people so happy dancing around the fire and she felt… surge of memory resurface from the dark, the blue haze lightening with colour that made the two behind her gasp as she saw their people move and dance, the echoing drums.

“I’m starting to remember… back then, I was so thrilled at the idea of meeting the Sarentu. What that could have meant for us… me. I told myself we were doing a good thing but… that’s not how it ended.”

Ri’nela stepped forward before their vision was swamped with a new vision, flooding with the scene from the ship above. Watching from the outside, she saw the ship of soldiers; herself clinging on with uncertainty.

“This is where Mokasa told me to find the Sarentu but—”

“Hey,” Mercer’s tone was sharp, cutting her hesitant statement short. “No time for cold feet, now.”

“We’re just talking to them.” Her memory counterpart echoed, her tail lashing softly, “Do we need this many soldiers.”

“This is our last chance. They’re too primitive to understand what we can do for their children.”

Memory Alma looked more swayed at the latter of that statement, “It’s for the children…” her tone far softer.

“Exactly!” Mercer jumped onto that, “ Just think about what we can achieve. Finally.”

Airily, Memory Alma nodded, “We’re helping them. They’ll see it. In time…” Trying to sound hopeful.

The scene returned back to the clearing of dancing and celebrating Sarentu, but she couldn’t look at them as she led the way through. “It used to be beautiful here.” Alma said, “Then we came.”

Kìoetey tapered off a little to look at the group of children… then to paintings on the rocky wall. “That mural… I’ve seen it before. The colours are so vivid…”

Alma didn’t linger but her eyes came to the foggy shapes of humans, armed and the distant sound of their echoing, breaths that rasped through their mask filters.

The two Sarentu needed no context as to why they were there so they walked silently through these stilled moments. Dread settling in her stomach at what was next, the dark was heavy but she had little choice but to move on towards the clearing. Then they were lurched into a horrific scene.

“No! What are you doing?!” Memory Alma screamed out, amongst the soldiers who fired on the Sarentu. Bodies fall every few seconds from the flickers of metal. “Let me talk to them!”

“Don’t let them run!” Harding’s voice echoed the loudest. “We can’t find them in the forest”

“<Please, stop running! Don’t fight them!>” Memory Alma spoke in Na’vi as if that would stop the shooting. Two more Sarentu fell behind, fires no longer in control and spilling out…

“Harding. No one gets out.” Mercer called.

Memory Alma continued to look out at the scene in horror, helpless.

Then they were back… but the dancing scene they had started off was now a scene of death. Bodies laid as they fell.

Her mouth felt dry, a temporary numbness settling in which allowed her to speak. “I... I always said I didn’t know. But I did.” She admitted, leading on over the bodies because they could not stay here. “I hungered for glory… recognition at any cost. But our dream started with a massacre.”

She walked past the barrels of toxic chemicals, used to cover up and dissolve the bodies. Hide the evidence from the outside world. But the next and last clearing had her falter a little… little Aha’ri in her Sarentu clothing, crouching down in front of Colonel Harding… terrified and traumatised to have witnessed her clan’s demise. Her own mother’s death.

“No, Aha’ri…” Alma whispered with regret. She took a heavy breath to carry on, the guilt and the grief of her actions felt so tight around her ribs and threatened to choke her. “I had to focus on you. The children. Protect you… but now I know we’re the ones you needed protection from. We… We wanted our school. Our program. So we stole you. Your clan tried to stop us… so we killed them.” There was no denying her part in it. “My human death is no absolution to the crimes we committed here. I understand that…”

Memory Alma was kneeling now, almost defeated amongst the horror of the unexpected death and destruction. “The Na’vi will never forgive us. Never.”

“The Na’vi will never know,” Mercer said, cold as ever.

Memory Alma’s head bowed in shame, her shoulders sinking down.

“Here, take this.” Harding’s voice was bored.

 Memory Alma turned to see and her attitude changed to something soft as she rose carefully to Aha’ri who was more or less pushed her way. “Don’t worry, little one.” She pulled the girl close as if to shield the six-year-old’s view of the burning and death around. “I’ll protect you.” The loudest sound was the little doll Aha’ri dropped onto the grass…

She found herself back out of the memory, lingering for a moment before she felt Ri’nela and Kìoetey disappear from the memory… the clearing. Leaving her alone without a word. She swallowed thickly before she felt the grass under her real body return and the other hand touch hers…pulling her hand and kuru away.

The scene around was replaced by the Circle of Ancestors… Anufi stepped back to allow her space.

Alma’s head turned but she had no words to speak as the two Sarentu looked at each other, tears in their eyes but there was more to it. No words needed to be spoken as Kìoetey rose to her feet, jaw tensing and loosening. Ri’nela was quick to follow but first to leave with clenched fists and nothing said.

“K-Kìoetey…” Alma tried, her voice cracking.

“No.” Kìoetey shut her down instantly, not even looking at her before she more or less stormed from the circle…

Alma stared before she ducked her head, regret once again filling her stomach.

“Come, back to rest in quiet; they need time to comprehend what they have seen.” Anufi was stern, pulling her up to her feet but she had no strength to fight her on it; to try and chase after and explain but… her head felt funny. The energy she had had was fading fast and she felt the new dregs of tiredness behind her eyes.

“<Are-Are you gonna see too?>” She asked, allowing herself to follow.

“<Not today. I have seen enough pain and death. Hear me when I say this, do not mistake the care we provide as anything less than duty. As you’re part of the resistance, you’re an ally of Kame’tire and privileged, despite the blood on your hands.>”

Which as Alma understood, was the only reason she was still not shoved out into the cold like Mokasa. They held the same crime but Anufi knew the connections were thin between the human side of the Resistance and the clan; she was treading carefully to not snap those bonds when they needed them. A political move, so to speak. Mokasa on the other hand had no ties to protect him.

“<When can I go? Return to the resistance?”

“<Tomorrow>”

Alma nodded. “<Okay.>” She had time to plan her next course of action. She hoped Anqa would pick her up otherwise it was going to be a very long walk.

[milfswriter]

“i still dream about you even though you’re mine.” Soft fem reader X Rhea ripley. Prompt: Reader and Rhea have been together for a few months now. Reader and Rhea are in love and so very cute together. Rhea realises Reader is too cute to resist and just teases her with kisses and flirty touches. Could you write something like that? You could also add Reader being horny and a dose of smut if you wanted to. If you would consider writing this i'd be honoured. Do you happen to have AO3 by any chance?

I do not have AO3 but I can make one if you guys want ;) I tweaked the request a little lol

Morning

Rhea Ripley x reader Summary: Rhea is much happier you're hers than you thought Notes and warnings: this was rushed tbh, smut, morning sex, cunnilingus, fingering

You opened your eyes with a groan as the sunlight crept into your bedroom, stretching your limbs before turning on your side to find a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at you.

You let out a soft gasp, "god damn it, Demi" you placed a hand on your chest, a giggle coming out of Rhea's lips.

"How long have you been staring at me, you creep?" you swatted her bare shoulder, flashbacks from the night before playing in your head as you saw the scratches littering her arms and chest.

Demi shrugged, propping her cheek on her palm as she laid on her side to face you. You cherished these moments with her, waking up together without having to go anywhere and just staying in bed was always your favorite one.

You turned on your back, looking at her with a smirk as she scooted closer to you, moving your hair out of your face and peppering kisses on your neck and shoulder before moving all the way up to your lips.

"beautiful" she mumbled, too busy kissing you to acknowledge the hand that was on her lower back, scratching it gently.

Her forehead rested on yours, your noses nuzzling together before Rhea tilted her head to connect your lips, the kiss sloppy but passionate.

"What's up with you?" you asked softly, catching your breath from the long kiss but did not fail to notice her tensing.

She shook her head, smiling as she buried her face in your neck. "It's just..I still dream about you..even though you're mine"

"Yeah well, you better get used to it cause you're never getting rid of me" you chuckled, running your nails through the Eradicator's jet-black hair as her kisses traveled down your body with a chuckle at your statement.

It was amazing, she was amazing. The mutual pining since NXT years before turned out to be worth it after your first time with Rhea months ago.

Her tattooed hand began wandering under the covers, rubbing on your thigh to finally cupping your pussy, your breath hitching as you made eye contact with the taller woman.

"Wh..fuck, you're insatiable!" You hissed, throwing your head back with a groan as her fingers rubbed on your still-sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Only for you, bunny" She grinned, watching your every reaction to her moves under the covers, finally entering you with a finger.

"Damn it..I really thought I'd walk today"

"Don't worry, won't cripple you too much. You'll still be able to return the favor..if you want" she bit your earlobe gently, her breath tickling your ear.

A grin split your face as you thought of pleasuring her for the umpteenth time in the last 7 hours. You two were like bunnies on your rare days off, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Her kisses traveled further down your body, her lips almost instantly wrapping around your hardened nipple, pinching the other with a smirk at your uncontrolled moans.

She gave you a look full of lust as she crawled backwards under the covers, spreading your legs gently with a hum before she laid on her belly between them. "Christ, you smell so good"

She wasted no time in licking a long, slow stripe to your clit, eliciting a low groan from your lips. "Fuck.." you sneaked your hands under the covers to pull at her hair.

You felt her calloused hands groping at your thighs, vibrations from her moans at your taste not helping you keep quiet.

"Let me hear you, princess..come on" she groaned, ensuring you did what she asked by diving into your pussy with her tongue.

Rhea's tongue continued its slow, tantalizing exploration of your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You tangled your fingers in her hair, urging her on as your hips bucked against her mouth.

The only sounds in the room were your moans and the wet, slick noises of her licking and sucking. "you close baby?" she asked against the skin of your inner thigh, her fingers moving in and out of you at a pace so slow you let out a whine as you nodded.

"Come on, don't be a tease Dems..s'too early" she snickered, wrapping her lips back around your clit and you knew she gave in as her fingers picked up their pace.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, you cried out her name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm her fingers could barely move inside you as you clenched around her.

Rhea looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, pecking your lower belly before crawling back up to kiss you hard, your taste still on her lips as her tongue explored your mouth.

"You taste so good, baby"

You grinned at her, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you at the sight of her face again. "I'm glad you think so," you said, your voice still hoarse with pleasure.

Rhea chuckled, pulling you into her with a kiss to your temple. "I always think so," she bit her lip, "you're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

At her statement, the both of you silently decided to spend the whole day in bed.

Taglist:

@obsessedwithwwewomen @ara-a-bird@jungwoospeach@neganwifey25-blog@yourmisosoup@cameronsdruthers@dementedtrashcat @sunnnyshark  @1c4ntg3ty0u0ffmym1nd

[lily-blue]

Innocent as doves

☆ characters: singer!you & activist!yeonjun ☆ genre: historical au, angst ☆ warnings: sexual harassment, character’s death, mention of blood and violence ☆ summary: your dreams brought you to him; his dreams brought destruction upon the both of you ☆ words: 15,1k ☆ a/n: Gyeongseong is the name of Seoul during the period of Japanese colonial rule ☆ also: happy birthday to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you an amazing day with people who love and appreciate you as you deserve ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story even though she was short of time 💕 ☆ taglist: @soobin-chois

Throughout your teenage years, you had frequently daydreamed about this very moment: the hustle and bustle of the train station, the thick smoke in the air you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue and the freedom your arrival to the capital city gave you despite your big brother’s presence right next to you. Obviously, you loved growing up in the countryside - being the only daughter of one of the leading figures of your small community came with its own privileges -, but hell did it feel good to finally try your wings on your own!

You snapped your head in your brother’s direction when he cleared his throat and took your luggage from you. Fine, you weren’t entirely on your own, but here at least no one knew who you were, therefore no one would treat you like you could break under the smallest pressure. As if a mere rejection could have destroyed your self-esteem and brought your father’s rage upon them when your father was the most understanding person you knew after your mother.

Your smile was sheepish and your cheeks rose-tinted as you let Taehyung lead you towards the exit.

‘After we get settled in our accommodation, I’ll send a letter to our father,’ your brother said, never the one to leave you in the shadows. You acknowledged his words with a curt nod and a reassuring smile. He had no reason to be worried about you. ‘I’ll try to be quick. Then, we can look around in the neighbourhood, see whether there are any jobs available closeby,’ he added, bumping his upper arm into your shoulder lightly, playfully, like he always did when he wanted to earn your forgiveness. As though you had ever been able to stay angry with him for longer than a couple of hours.

If you wanted to be honest, he had never given you any reason to stay mad at him. Sure, at the young age of seven, having your dolls destroyed might have seemed like a crime against humanity, but in reality, even that had been an accident. Taehyung was just too good-natured and caring to cause you or anyone harm on purpose.

‘I would love that, thank you,’ you said, following him down the busy streets with your much shorter legs. Thankfully, you weren’t in a hurry, so you didn’t have to adjust your steps to his as he was walking at a slower speed on purpose. He really was the best!

Your temporary home for the next six months - the time limit you had gotten from your father to find your footing in the capital city - was no more than two corners from the central train station. It was in the heart of Gyeongseong with numerous shops and facilities that catered to those who visited or lived in the city, which made you more excited about your plans for the afternoon with Taehyung. You wondered whether any of the fancy pubs and expensive hotels were looking for a singer. You hoped they did.

You would have especially liked to work close to the square with the pretty fountain that you had to pass by in order to get to your new home. It was lively and loud and everything the Gyeongseong of your dreams was. There were vendors selling fresh coffee and snacks on one side and businessmen in suit and tie entering an enormous building on the other. There was even a paperboy with today’s newspapers in his hands, shouting from the top of his lungs a couple of metres from you.

‘There are so many people! Look, oppa!’ You exclaimed, unable to resist the urge to point at the paperboy despite your manners.

Taehyung shook his head with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth before he grabbed your hand and pulled it downwards, back by your side.

‘Please, try not to offend people you shouldn’t on our very first day here. We’re not at home anymore, little bird,’ he chastised you, his tone lacking the usual playfulness in spite of his soft eyes.

You nodded, apologetic.

‘I am sorry,’ you mumbled under your nose, suddenly hyper aware of how rude you had been and how your actions could have reflected on your family if anyone had paid attention to the two of you.

You gulped down the bile in your throat and followed your brother in silence. You intended to keep your gaze on the ground and your excitement at bay, but after a couple of minutes, your curiosity won and you lifted your chin up high once again. Your eyes were sparkling as your gaze jumped from one spectacle to the other until it met an interesting-looking young man’s piercing one and you almost tripped over your own feet.

It was unnerving, but you failed to look away. He was sitting by a table on the terrace of one of the coffee shops with three other men, all of them wearing the same uniform, and he was observing your surroundings - you - with such intensity that you felt almost obligated to keep up your impromptu staring contest.

For a split second, you were afraid he would stand up and walk up to you and your brother, but that couldn’t have happened due to two reasons. 1) The young man was with other people and even from afar, they seemed to be discussing something rather vehemently, therefore you supposed it was something important. 2) The beautiful fountain in the middle of the square shattered into pieces, the noise and the flying rubble leaving chaos in their wake.

Even though you weren’t close to the now-destroyed fountain anymore, you fell on your butt from the shock and scraped both of your palms when your instinct kicked in and tried to protect you from the fall. People were screaming and crying wherever you looked; some were unharmed, some were bleeding, but luckily none of them stayed eerily still on the ground.

The realisation that the incident had no fatal casualties brought you some comfort and so did your brother’s protective arms that embraced you with urgency. Panting - as your gaze found the young man in the uniform screaming at someone shorter than him -, you found it weird: the relief it brought you that his attention wasn’t on you anymore.

‘Are you hurt?’ Taehyung’s question reached you like it came from under heavy layers of water and you pulled away to be able to look at his face. The dust that lingered in the air stuck to his sweaty skin mixed with the blood that was running down his temple lazily from a wound you couldn’t really see. You lifted your hand to cup his cheeks and hissed when your injured skin touched his jawline.

Taehyung grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands downwards, then pushed them towards you, so that he could take a good look at them.

‘We need to go to the hospital,’ he insisted and you let out a broken huff because what he was saying was ridiculous. People around you had more concerning injuries. Even he had a more concerning injury and he wanted to take you to the hospital because of some scratches?

‘But only because of your head injury,’ you pointed out and seeing how he furrowed his thick eyebrows upon hearing your reasoning, you were pretty sure that he hadn’t realised until that moment that he was bleeding.

He reached up to his forehead, slid his fingers sideways and hissed when his fingertips grazed the wound.

‘It’s nothing,’ he reassured you, but you shook your head and made no attempt at getting up from the ground. If he really believed that his wound was nothing, your wounds were less than nothing and you were determined to prove your point. So determined that Taehyung let out a resigned sigh when meeting your eyes he realised that he had no chance to win this argument. ‘Fine, let’s settle in our accommodation and I’ll bring back some disinfectant and bandages on my way back from the post office,’ he negotiated, but you shook your head.

‘We should buy some on our way home. That way, we can clean and dress your wound before you leave,’ you reasoned, the amused chuckle that left your brother’s throat adding a grotesque contrast to the painful wails of the people around you.

‘Deal,’ Taehyung agreed as he pulled you up from the ground and took your hand.

Without a care for your surroundings or the people in need, your brother dragged you to your new home as gently as he could and let you tend to his wound. He was on his best behaviour the entire time you were disinfecting the cut on his head, so that he could make you promise in exchange that you wouldn’t open the door to anyone once he left.

Within two weeks both Taehyung and you managed to find yourself a job that would be able to cover your rent and living expenses once you used up all of your allowance money. It was a relief, really, since on your tenth day of walking from hotel to pub to a different hotel, you had started to feel a little worried that Gyeongseong might not have had enough room for you. In hindsight, it had been a silly thought, but some things just couldn’t have been helped. Your anxiety, that you weren’t much without your father’s name, was one of them.

Singing at a hotel lobby was as close to your dream job as you could get with your pressing urge to jump on the first opportunity that presented itself to you. If you wanted to be honest, you had always wished to be able to dress in pretty ball dresses during your performances and have your own stage, but your own dresses weren’t that bad, either, nor the new microphone with the silver stand that were provided to you.

It was a promising start.

Hanging out at the bar, sitting by the counter with a glass of juice in your hands, you were waiting patiently for your turn to entertain the guests when your gaze fell on a young man in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark pants, dark suspenders and round glasses atop of the bridge of his nose. His profile was handsome - more pretty than manly -, and you felt enchanted by the sight. It was hard to take your eyes off him.

Maybe that was why you noticed how unusual he was acting compared to the other guests or that the bartender seemed to both keep his distance from him and being weirdly nice to him, like they knew each other, like they were close. For example, they weren’t looking at each other, but the young man’s lips were undoubtedly moving and the bartender was clearly listening, his focus on the other’s words keeping him from walking up to the rich-looking woman near you, even though she had sat down on one of the barstools in the midst of their conversation, ready to order.

You took a sip from your juice and kept watching.

You let your curious gaze linger on the young man’s hands, paying attention to the way his fingers were drumming on the wooden countertop and you found yourself humming for a similar rhythm. You weren’t too good at improvising song lyrics, but you knew a lot of traditional ballads, so you picked one on a whim and adjusted the words to the melody. You pictured the two of you on stage, in front of a bigger audience, loving your admirers as much as you liked each other.

Your cheeks were burning because of your shameless fantasy and they turned a deeper shade of red when the young man suddenly turned towards you and raised a brow in question. You snapped your head in the opposite direction on instinct, like a child caught red-handed in the candy shop.

‘Good evening, miss,’ a surprisingly deep voice greeted you, its owner standing right behind you. Blushing, you wondered just how fast and smooth one’s steps needed to be to change locations so quickly.

‘Good evening,’ you mumbled under your nose, slowly turning towards the man.

Heart beating like crazy, you tried your best to conceal your disappointment when your eyes fell on the person who had addressed you so politely. Instead of wearing a simple shirt, the man in front of you was dressed in a familiar uniform, had a pair of thin lips rather than a full and pouty one and looked at you like he had never seen anyone like you. You weren’t sure why, but the latter made you feel uneasy.

It didn’t take long for you to realise from where he was so familiar; the heavy feeling atop of your chest was similar to how you had felt seconds before the explosion at the square on your first day in the capital city. Now that you were paying more attention to the young man’s eyes and his outfit than his other facial features and how different he looked from the man you had been staring at in the last ten minutes, it was easy to put two and two together.

‘I see you remember me. I won’t lie, it’s flattering,’ he said with a pleased smile, leaning into your personal space more as though the two of you knew each other.

You let your hand fall into your lap and straightened your posture to look more confident.

‘I…’

‘Cute,’ he noted and took a seat on the barstool next to you. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m chief officer Nishiki Kousuke. What shall I call you?’

You had been taking etiquette classes since you had turned five along with Japanese language classes, singing and piano classes. You had attended your first ballroom dancing class at the age of nine and been taught how to manage a household around the time you had gotten your first period. You knew what the correct answer was - how you should have phrased the words and how you should have had perfect control over your body language. Still, you felt wary about telling the man your name.

You forced a hopefully soft smile on your face while you kept your slightly trembling right hand still with your other hand. You went as far as digging your nails into the inner side of your lower arm to not let your body take over control at the worst possible moment.

‘Cecily,’ your boss called for you, using your stage name, seconds before your resolve could have crumbled and you let out a relieved sigh without meaning to. ‘One more song and the stage is yours, honey,’ the middle-aged woman informed you from the left side of the bar, so you turned towards her with your entire body and nodded as a sign that you were ready.

It was a weird mix of emotions that overcame you once you jumped off the barstool. First and foremost, you were relieved that your conversation with the man in the uniform was over and he couldn’t have done anything about that or pressured you into staying. You were also super glad that you didn’t have to tell him your real name because your boss had already provided him with a name he could call you; something you had completely forgotten about because of how anxious his closeness had made you. Admittedly, you would have much preferred it if he hadn’t known any of your personal information, but it was the least bad, so you could deal with it. Then, you were excited about your performance.

It was because of the latter that your smile reached your eyes when you bid your goodbye, leaving your juice behind with an apologetic frown towards the bartender who just shook his head and poured it down the drain.

You planned to put up a great performance, an excellent performance even. You planned to charm the young man with the rolled up sleeves and round glasses, so that he couldn’t have not walked up to you after you finished your songs, but by the time you stood in front of the microphone and embraced it with both hands, he was nowhere to be seen.

You greeted the guests and wished them an amazing night like you always did, but your eyes couldn’t find him as you scanned the area and it did reflect on your mood a little. Your voice was a little blue, but it fit the ballads you had chosen for the night, so your unprofessionalism didn’t cost your job.

You got paid plenty before your brother came and picked you up, taking you home.

Sunday mornings were your new second favourite time of the week, right after those nights you spent at your workplace, singing your heart out to your audience. Sunday mornings were for you and your brother to discover new places in Gyeongseong: bookshops, clothing stores, coffee shops and diners. This particular weekend, you decided to wake up a tad bit earlier - although still not as early as you normally did on weekdays - and have breakfast outside, so that you could enjoy the good weather.

You didn’t usually drink coffee simply because you weren’t a huge fan of all things bitter, but your brother had found a shop downtown where the owner mixed different flavours into your drinks if you asked him to and the cinnamon coffee he had just made you was from another world. It was delicious, so was the yakgwa his wife had baked freshly in the kitchen in the back of the store.

‘Has that man tried to approach you again since last time?’ Your brother asked after he put the newspaper aside and took a sip from his espresso. He didn’t go into specifics, but even without additional details, you knew whom he was referring to and this fact alone was a tad unnerving.

You wiped your hands into a textile napkin and reached for the newspaper. Finally, it was your turn to have a look at what was happening in the capital city. This time, you were the most curious about the beauty pageant whose finals would be held in Gyeongseong in a couple of weeks, but you also liked skimming through their seasonal recommendations for outdoor programmes and their Japanese poems from independent poets.

‘Only once,’ you admitted quietly, flipping through the pages. ‘I started to stay with the other singers like you suggested,’ you added, not out of obligation, but to reassure him. You didn’t want Taehyung to worry about you too much; you also dreaded the possibility that he might have forbidden you to go back to the hotel if he couldn’t have been a hundred percent sure that you were safe there while he was working. Just like your parents, your brother could be pretty protective sometimes.

‘Good girl,’ the compliment fell from Taehyung’s lips easily, just as naturally as his big palm found a home atop of your head, messing up your braids with how aggressively he ruffled your hair.

You groaned, displeased, and pushed his hand away with a click of your tongue.

‘Oppa! Please, I am an adult now,’ you whined, but instead of fixing those locks that fell into your face, your focus remained on the newspaper and the flavoured coffee in your cup.

Your mother had never liked it when you read by the dining table. She thought that it wasn’t lady-like, hence you should have concentrated on more important things during meals, such as your body posture, your sweet smiles and polite answers whenever someone addressed you directly. She believed that every woman should have stuck to the same topics when joining a conversation: family, suitors and household matters.

However, your father had always had a soft spot for you, hence he had been happy to explain the business and political jargon to you when, every once in a while, you had shown interest in those types of articles. Needless to say, you still didn’t understand every word, but you could rely on context clues.

‘Of course you are,’ your brother agreed with amusement in his voice, but you didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, you kept your eyes on the article that misused the phrase “touch base” in its very first sentence.

It was a boring report on local agriculture and the benefits of trading with the Japanese, not something you usually wasted your time on, however, there was something in the way the writer had structured his sentences that kept you engaged. He used formal language and his statements were mostly general truths, but it still felt like you were reading a book: the text had rhythm and you couldn’t have helped but emphasise certain words in your head naturally. Words like: station, nation, train, eight.

‘Oppa? Did you read this one?’ You asked Taehyung when after the third and fourth reading, your brain made a list of at least a dozen of these words, linking them together and building sentences that didn’t exist.

‘Hm?’

‘This one,’ you pointed at the article with the misused expression in its first sentence and he nodded after one glance at the page, his furrowed eyebrows displaying confusion. Thus, you pushed forwards just a bit more. ‘Do you not think it is weird? Like… that it sounds weird?’

Taehyung took the newspaper from you and read those four, short paragraphs one more time. Then, he gave it back to you with a frown.

‘I mean it does sound like propaganda,’ he admitted in a small voice, making sure that no one around you could hear him. ‘But that’s not unusual.’

You leaned your back against the backrest of your chair and let out a dramatic sigh. Taehyung was right, it wasn’t unheard of that people wrote baseless reports on literally anything that helped the Japanese to be seen in a better light by the locals - according to your father, the more credible these articles sounded, the more money their writers made -, but this wasn’t what you were talking about. You were talking about the hidden message.

‘It sounds like a song,’ you argued, less conscious of your surroundings. 

Unsurprisingly, your outburst earned you a reprimanding glance from your brother.

‘Well, not to me,’ he argued and flicked your forehead to remind you of your manners. You straightened your back on instinct and resisted the urge to pout, although you could feel your lower lip tremble because of your suppressed annoyance. You hated when he did this, when he treated you like you were five.

‘But…’ you started, however, soon decided against finishing your sentence when two people took a seat by the table in front of you and Taehyung shook his head in an alarmingly slow motion. You choked on your words and swallowed them down without as much as a yelp.

By the time you finished your cinnamon-flavoured coffee and your brother stole the last piece of yakgwa from the porcelain in front of you, you convinced yourself that the hidden message was all in your head. After all, why would anyone have informed the public - and with that, the local police - about an upcoming bombing and risked getting caught? It would have been stupid. Yeah… utterly, ridiculously, truly stupid. No one was that reckless, which meant that your mind was playing a trick on you.

Leaving, you sealed your lips on the way back to your two-bedroom apartment and didn’t bring up the article even when you got home. It wasn’t worth it, making your brother worried or angry over it.

Three days later, at eight in the morning, a small group of activists blew up the central train station.

You still didn’t tell anyone about the article. Not because you were afraid of the consequences - although you should have been -, but because your brother was already looking for other apartments in the more peaceful suburbs, urging you to quit your job at the hotel, so that you could have moved as soon as he found an adequate deal. You didn’t want to sabotage yourself when it was already a challenge to persuade Taehyung to let you keep working in the heart of the city. Selfishly, you kept the secret to be able to keep your dream.

Before the second explosion, it had taken you ten minutes to get to work. You hadn’t needed to calculate with external factors such as the number of available cabs in the area or the mass on the trams that might have made it impossible for you to get on the vehicle.

Living in one of the outer districts was different. Since you insisted on keeping your job, you had to leave your apartman two hours in advance and be aware of drivers who deliberately chose the longer routes to milk as much money out of you as possible. It was inconvenient, but it was your choice, so you were determined to not show how much you were struggling to Taehyung. The last thing you needed was him reminding you that he had told you so.

Shifting your body weight from one foot to the other, you stayed close to Aeshin, Jenna and Hyolyn like you had promised to your brother, but didn’t join their girly conversation. You did hum here and there to keep up the facade, however, your gaze lingered elsewhere: on the young man with rolled up sleeves and round glasses. He was back, sitting by the main bar and whispering under his nose as though he wasn’t talking to the bartender when the older man clearly paid attention to him.

You wondered whether you were the only one who noticed their strange interactions or the others simply didn’t care. You also wondered whether the same went for the strange article in the newspaper. Were you the only one? Were others out there, too, turning a blind eye to these odd occurrences? Could these two things be connected?

You were dying to know.

Therefore, when Jenna was called on stage and you caught the young man putting something in his pocket from the corner of your eyes, you quickly excused yourself as well and walked up to the bar. It felt like a now or never situation to you and after experiencing first hand how infrequently the other showed up at your workplace and how rarely he stayed, you believed that your urgency was justified.

‘Good evening, sir!’ You greeted him as soon as you were beside him, your smile polite and sweet just the way your mother had taught you. You ignored his raised eyebrow and how he was already half-standing.

‘Yes?’ He asked and for a moment you actually contemplated if it had been wise to sit down and act like you were oblivious to the fact that he was about to leave or he would have used it against you and left without entertaining you with a made-up excuse.

You stayed standing.

‘Have you happened to read the article about the benefits of trading with the Japanese in the newspaper two weeks ago, on Sunday? The writer misused the phrase “touch base” in the first sentence,’ you inquired, paying close attention to the tiniest changes in the young man’s facial expression like you always did with Taehyung, but his mask was impenetrable. Like he wasn’t looking at you, just staring out of his head.

You pressed your lips together, disappointed that you might have been so wrong. However, a voice inside of your head, suspiciously akin to your best friend and forever partner in crime back at home, told you you shouldn’t have given up so easily. After all, it couldn’t have been denied that this man and the bartender were acting weird and seemingly everyone disregarded their weird behaviour like it was the norm.

Or a collective secret.

‘It predicted the bombing,’ you chirped, using the very same tone that always drew a reaction out of your brother without fail.

It earned you one this time as well.

The thought that there must have been a reason for the workers and the guests to look through this man crossed your mind again when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you towards the storage room that belonged to the main bar. A panicked yelp stuck in the back of your throat as you looked around in the lobby and you met numerous unamused looks before people one by one, guests and employees alike, turned in the opposite direction.

You almost tripped over your own foot when you were yanked into the small room and the door closed shut behind your back with a loud thud.

‘Do you have a death wish?’ The young man hissed, pushing you against the wall with both hands. You gulped when your head hit it hard, missing your brother’s gentle palm that always slid between the back of your head and any firm surface when you lost your balance or were too unaware of your surroundings to notice something as big as a lamp pose.

‘No,’ you objected, although your voice came out weak.

Your answer earned you a scoff.

‘Then I advise you not to walk up to random people, talking about things you clearly know nothing about,’ he stated firmly, making your heart beat like crazy with how close his pouty lips were to yours. You could taste the air that left his mouth and phantom the touch of the tip of his nose against your rose-tinted cheek.

‘I did not walk up to a random guy,’ you insisted, short of breath. He pulled away a little to look you in the eyes at that. ‘I walked up to you,’ you claimed, mustering up all your bravery and confidence to be able to keep eye contact. Might it have been because you had grown up with an older brother, but something told you that you needed to earn his respect to get those answers you were looking for. People with thick skin and unwavering hearts were looked up to in every romance book you had put your hands on in your teenage years.

‘You know nothing about me,’ the man retorted and to that you didn’t actually have a good comeback because you were calling him young man in your head since day one and those three facts you did know about him were all pieces of his appearance: the way he dressed, the shape of his lips and his cute habit of drumming on the countertop with his fingers.

You didn’t even know his name.

‘But I am right, am I not? You know about the article. You and maybe Jaewon-ssi, too?’ The second part of your short monologue sounded more like a question than a statement, but it held enough weight for the young man to put more pressure on your windpipe. Mentioning the bartender might have been a bit too reckless.

You lifted your hands to his forearm and dug your nails into his skin to snap him out of it. It didn’t help much, but seconds before you could have started to see stars, he finally let go.

Not being able to lean on him, nor having him hold you against the cold wall anymore, you fell forwards. You crouched down in front of him, trying to catch your breath.

‘Stop sticking your nose into other people’s business, little girl,’ he spat before he leaned down and put his index finger under your chin to force you to look up at him. Your eyes were teary, but lacking anger or fear as you let him do whatever he pleased. ‘I can guarantee you that your suitor wouldn’t be too happy if he knew you’re walking around carelessly, asking questions about the bombings.’

Your furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘What do you mean my suitor?’ You asked, not understanding where this misunderstanding was coming from until the realisation suddenly hit you in the face. You remembered the first night you had seen this man sitting by the bar. Your eyes had met for a sheer moment and panicking, you had looked in the opposite direction. Then, someone had walked up to you and silly you had thought it had been him.

It had been the Japanese chief officer, Nishiki Kousuke.

‘Oh? The Japanese man? He is not my suitor. He is just… well… it might sound like I am full of myself, which I am not,’ you rambled, unaware of the amused smile in the corner of the young man’s mouth. ‘I am telling you, he is obsessed with me.’

The silence that followed your confession was deafening. The longer it stretched, the more self-conscious and uncomfortable you felt, but you also didn’t know what to say to break it. 

‘Obsessed with you?’ He asked with a small tilt to his head, one eyebrow raised. His posture and tone reminded you of those times when your piano teacher hadn’t wanted to believe you when you had told him you had been practising and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt super embarrassed.

Munching on your lower lip, you opted for a nod.

To your mother’s dismay, you weren’t always good at it, especially when your feelings were involved, but you had been taught how to read the room and your conversation partners’ facial expressions. It was a must, so that you could leave a good first impression on your potential future husband. Therefore, you stared at the young man attentively, hoping to figure out how he felt about the revelation. Did he believe you? Was he relieved that there wasn’t a courtship he had to be mindful of? Did he feel as hopeful as you did?

After long seconds of silence, you could answer only one of these questions. He put more distance between the two of you, but he believed you.

‘Okay,’ he said as he linked his arms in front of his chest. ‘If you can figure out where to find me, and no, not here. Then, we can talk,’ he gave you an ultimatum, the challenge clear in his tone.

‘I will,’ you promised, anxiously waiting for the clues that could help locate him outside of the hotel lobby, but he remained silent.

He didn’t help you up from the dirty floor. He didn’t give you any hints about where to start your little treasure hunt, nor did he tell you his name. He was simply watching you sitting on your heels, then gave you a nod and walked out of the storage room.

You stayed there, trying to collect your thoughts and process what had just happened until the bartender came in for more soju and informed you that Aeshin was already on stage, which meant you would perform next.

You thanked him and seeing that he wasn’t bothered by your presence, you gave yourself a couple of more minutes before you stood up, fixed your dress and went back to the girls. You should have expected it, however, it still surprised you that no one addressed your absence. They acted like you had been there with them the whole time and something cold and ugly in your chest nagged at you that you should have felt more scared than you did at that moment.

Snapping your head in your boss’ direction when she called your name, you quickly brushed the unease aside and walked behind the microphone with a soft smile on your face. Finally, it was your time to charm the audience.

You started your investigation on your next day at work. You purposely arrived an hour early to be able to strike up a conversation with Jaewon-ssi, but the bartender was sparse with his words and judging with his silence. He was less cooperative than a brick of wall.

The girls were a little more willing. You might not have known each other’s real names, but you had shared many stories about your personal lives over the weeks, hence it wasn’t like they didn’t know that you could keep your mouth shut. You were trustworthy. Maybe not trustworthy enough to get an address, but they did tell you the young man’s name.

Yeonjun. A gift from God.

That night, you were lying in your bed wide awake, thinking of him and what you should have done next. Clearly, he had to be someone important for the employees at the hotel to hide his identity so earnestly. You knew going to your boss or approaching some of the guests who had been there that night when Yeonjun had dragged you into the storage room would have been a waste of time. Should you have gone to the police? What would you have told them? If he had had anything to do with the bombing like you assumed, that would have led to a disaster. You needed to find another way.

After much consideration, you came to the conclusion that decoding another odd article was your best chance. Thus, you started to read the newspaper religiously. You looked for typos and misused phrases in the first paragraphs in case these could have been indications that the article in question wasn’t what it looked like. Then, you tried to find words that rhymed.

It took you weeks, but on a random Sunday night you either lost it or you finally succeeded. You had a location and a time. You knew where to go next.

You were nervous.

You were also super excited about seeing the young man again and finding out whether these hidden messages were real or they only existed in your head and somehow the bombing at the train station had been a mere coincidence. Would the latter have meant that you were crazy? Did living far from your hometown and moving out from your parents’ house have a negative effect on your mental health?

You pushed these thoughts in the back of your mind and locked them away in a box along with those things you didn’t wish to handle ahead of time. You would worry about potentially going mad when you got there; you would worry when you reached the traditional diner you had read about in the newspaper and Yeonjun wasn’t there.

It was the first time you set foot in this area in Gyeongseong. The neighbourhood was on the border of the central districts, thousands of people making it loud and lively as they walked down the streets without a care for their surroundings. It looked more like a bigger town with its own administration than a part of the capital city, but that was why you were so sure you were heading towards the right place. Hence, you held onto your flickering confidence and sped up your steps.

You arrived ten minutes early, but you did so on purpose, because you were more afraid of being late and missing your chance than waiting at an unfamiliar place, completely on your own. You walked inside of the building instead of killing some time in front of it. You greeted the owners with a polite bow and were about to take a seat by the window to be able to keep an eye on the entrance when someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the back door.

‘Hey! It hurts,’ you whined, trying your best to brush the stranger’s hand off yourself until you lifted your head and your gaze landed on him: those pouty lips, the rounded glasses and the white shirt with rolled up sleeves. Yeonjun. You had found him.

You weren’t sure whether it was because of the wide smile on your face that he looked at you so weirdly or because of what you had said, but in the end, he shook his head and let go of your wrist. You pouted, missing the warmth of his touch now that you knew it hadn’t been a random stranger who had tried to drag you out of the diner you had every right to be at - or so you thought.

‘Just follow me,’ he said and turned his back to you before you could have nodded; you felt stupidly happy that he trusted you that you wouldn’t have run away, although if you had given it a second thought, you could have realised that you running away or not showing up at all was almost the same from his point of you. Still, it felt nice.

With your lower lip between your teeth - you were trying to conceal that potentially creepy, bright smile of yours - and your heart pounding in your throat, you did as Yeonjun said and the two of you exited the building through the kitchen. The back door opened to a less busy street parallel to the main road and looking around, you could easily spot the smoking area thanks to all the cigarette stubs on the ground and the excessive amount of ash around the makeshift ashtrays. You hoped the young man didn’t plan to answer your questions there, on the dirty boxes they used as chairs, but he sat down on the one closest to him, so you did the same, albeit with a small frown.

‘What? Is it below you, little girl? Do you need me to bring you a pillow or something?’ The young man scoffed and you swallowed down the retort that was scratching the back of your throat because if you had wanted to be honest, you would have liked to have a puffy pillow or something soft and clean to sit on.

You didn’t want to get into an argument with him that could have potentially upset the both of you. Instead, you sat down and turned towards him with your whole body.

‘Are you the one writing those articles? How many of you are in this together? Is Jaewon-ssi here, too? What about the rest of the staff at the hotel?’ You asked as soon as he met your curious eyes. You had a whole list of questions regarding the bombing as well, but a part of you thought it would have been wiser to start with the less compromising aspect of these odd occurrences in case there was a less compromising aspect of them to begin with.

Yeonjun leaned backwards, putting a part of his weight on his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow at you with an indistinguishable look in his eyes. Observing his face for a couple of seconds, you decided that he was more amused than anything.

‘Do you really believe I’ll tell you everything just because you’re here?’ Yeonjun asked, his question not making too much sense to you at first. Straightening your back, you put both of your palms on your knees and pressed your heels together, not letting him intimidate you or make you feel as though you were unreasonable for believing so. 

‘You promised,’ you stated with your chin held high, looking him straight in the eyes.

Albeit quietly, he laughed.

‘I said we will talk. I’ve made no such promises, stupid girl,’ he reminded you with a click of his tongue like he was lecturing a child or a poor dog. You weren’t too fond of either of these comparisons.

‘But…’ you wanted to argue, however, a single look from the young man was enough to shut you up. You bit into your cheek from the inside then nodded. Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been able to recite word by word what he had said to do that night, but because of this, you had a hunch that going into an argument wouldn’t have ended well. ‘I am not stupid, do not call me that,’ so you said instead, being hung up on another part of his statement that you weren’t happy about.

You had spent a significant part of your childhood around private teachers. You had sacrificed so much time studying, practising, reading that being called stupid so nonchalantly felt like a slap. Especially from him, whose opinion you cared about.

‘How did you figure it out? About this place?’ Yeonjun asked instead of apologising, coaxing a resigned sigh out of you with how much ease and disregard he diverted the topic. But at least he wasn’t calling you stupid this time. In fact! He was curious about something that clearly showed just how smart you were despite your gender. Therefore, you could put aside your frustration and forgive him for his rudeness.

‘It was in the newspaper. Your…’ You quickly corrected yourself before he could have told you that your assumption was incorrect. ‘The article sounds like a song. There is emphasis on certain words,’ you explained, preening yourself on the way he was paying close attention to every word that left your mouth. He had to be impressed, there was no other explanation for the slowly decreasing distance between the two of you, him leaning so close to you that he was practically hovering over the makeshift table placed between your fake chairs.

‘Interesting theory,’ he said, voice deep and slow as though he was choosing every one of his words with great care.

‘It is not a theory,’ you insisted, because at that point you were convinced that you were speaking facts. Sure, there might have been other methods for reading those articles. Maybe, there were people out there with actual decoders, people like your brother who couldn’t see the structure of their sentences without additional help, but that didn’t mean you were wrong or just lucky. You had successfully read between the lines twice already. That meant a pattern, not pieces of information obtained by chance.

For a while, the two of you were staring at each other soundlessly. The muffled buzzing of the neighbouring streets was the only source of noise, your heartbeat in your ears. It wasn’t comforting, not at all, but you dug your nails into your palms to conceal your slowly growing anxiety.

‘Do you like chicken soup? Black bean noodles?’ He asked and you furrowed your brows in confusion. It was such a blatant attempt at diverting the topic that calling him out on it would have almost felt ridiculous. He had to know that you would notice. You were sure he knew that you had noticed.

You let out another sigh. It felt like the nth that day, however, it couldn’t have been more than the second or third.

‘Both,’ you said eventually, because it didn’t matter that much to you. You had eaten the food your mother had put on the table all your life and were only recently experimenting with flavours you genuinely liked. Developing preferences took time.

‘I’ll have Min ahjussi bring us some noodles then,’ Yeonjun informed you before he pushed himself further from the table and stood up. He was already a few steps away when his steps came to a sudden halt and he looked back at you from above his shoulder. ‘If you’re still here when I come back… don’t say you haven’t been warned,’ he said, then disappeared behind the same door you had walked through not that long ago.

In his absence, you let your shoulders fall forwards and your posture take on a natural curve. You didn’t understand. Warned about what? So far he had told you close to nothing. In fact! It was you whose lips had been loose. Thus, you came to the conclusion that he tried to avoid answering your question by scaring you away. And you wouldn’t let that happen.

When he came back with two bowls of steaming black bean noodles, you were still there, patiently waiting. Your mouth salivated at the delicious sight and the mouth-watering smell. You couldn’t wait to dive in the heavenly dish and devour it until the last spoonful of thick, dark paste.

While you were eating, you didn’t talk about any of your questions, but silence didn’t stay in your company for too long. Yeonjun made sure of it. He asked you about your singing career, whether it was like how you had pictured it to be before you had moved to the capital city and why hadn’t you looked for another place to perform at when you had moved to the suburbs. You talked about Taehyung, how hard it had been to convince him to let you keep working at the hotel and how Yeonjun was an only child, but had many friends who were like family to him. You had a good time, therefore you had no regrets even when later, on your way to work, you realised that you weren’t any closer to connecting the dots, the articles to the bombing, not at all.

You also realised that you didn’t really care about the mystery anymore. You were perfectly content with this new side of Yeonjun that you had gotten to know that afternoon.

The diner became your safe place without you realising. Whenever Yeonjun wasn’t there to spend some time with you over a nice, warm meal, you ordered yourself a dish you had never tried before and relished in the flavourful bites that for some reason felt like home even this far from your family. You could stay there for hours, sipping on your iced water and watching the streets.

And when Yeonjun was there… That was another kind of home. A warm and fuzzy bubble in which you could find solace when you had a fight with your brother because of his protective nature. A place where you could vent about the guests at the hotel you worked at and voice out how much you missed your parents without the overwhelming fear of misinterpretation and being taken back to them. With Yeonjun, you experienced a type of comfort you had never experienced in your life; it broke down those thick walls your teachers and your mother had built around the real you in order to please everyone around you and protect your family’s name. With him, you were free: free to speak your mind without worrying about offending him, free to eat more than how much a lady should have eaten in public and free to laugh so loud an unapologetic, random strangers could hear it.

‘No, seriously. Is he still bothering you?’ Yeonjun asked between two spoonfuls of chicken soup, shaking his head in disbelief, mumbling about the audacity and entitlement of Japanese people as though it was a genetic characteristic.

Obviously, over the weeks, you had come to know just how deeply rooted his hate for them was. It was blind rage fueled by his father’s execution and his mother’s broken heart that had taken her, too, way too soon, leaving the then-eighteen-year-old boy on his own. You couldn’t say you understood Yeonjun’s concept of revenge as he hadn’t known the face of the person who had pulled the trigger and turned him into an orphan, but you wanted to be there for him, to support him nonetheless.

‘It’s not that bad. I’ve been alone with him for a total of five minutes. The girls came to my rescue as soon as they noticed,’ you reassured him, more annoyed with yourself for letting a situation like that happen than Yeonjun’s disapproving frown, which wouldn’t have been the case if it had been your brother who was looking at you like this, like he had told you so that it was naive of you to think staying with the girls could keep him away.

‘You should stop being so nice to him,’ he said bluntly, although upon meeting your eyes his gaze became softer.

‘I can’t offend him,’ you mumbled under your nose, shoving a spoonful of lukewarm soup into your mouth to conceal your displeased frown. It wasn’t like you enjoyed having chief officer Nishiki’s undivided attention. On the contrary! You would have preferred not having him anywhere near you at all as something in the way he looked at you made your skin crawl. But you couldn’t have afforded sending him away when it was always in public that he talked to you. There was no way you could have been the cause of him losing face.

‘I could tell him you’re not interested,’ Yeonjun offered in a heartbeat, no hesitation, no stalling. It made you blush furiously, the implication behind his claim.

‘I…’ you stuttered, your brain throwing imaginary scenarios at you of Yeonjun walking up to the two of you when the Japanese man approached you at your workplace, of him pulling you behind his back protectively, telling the officer that you were his.

You had never wanted anything so desperately.

‘And why would you do such a thing?’ An unfamiliar voice came from behind you, the scoff at the end of his question forcing you to turn your head towards the source. In that split second, it crossed your mind that maybe the person was talking to someone else and it was a simple case of misunderstanding, but no. The young man, who pulled a chair to your table in the meantime, was undoubtedly talking to you.

‘What are you doing?’ Yeonjun asked, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. He didn’t even look at the guy, his chocolate brown orbs focused on you, painting your cheeks a deeper shade of red with their intensity.

‘Deflecting, aren’t we?’ The stranger remarked with a pinch of mockery to his velvety tone. It reminded you of the boys in your hometown when they got defensive after being rejected. You didn’t like it.

Whoever this man was, he opened the wooden drawer of the table with ease and took a casual sip from Yeonjun’s soup with his spoon. You watched the scene unfold, mortified, but unlike what you would have expected, Yeonjun didn’t get upset nor did he push the other away. 

Only then did it occur to you that they might not only have known each other, but they were friends, too.

‘What do you want?’ Yeonjun grumbled, sharing his side dishes with the guy so naturally, it made you wonder whether either of them realised how they looked from an outsider’s point of view. Like brothers.

You sucked in your lower lip to swallow back a whimper. Could this guy’s earlier question have meant that he didn’t like you? Did he not want you in Yeonjun’s life? Would he have tried to convince his friend to stop spending so much time with you? 

‘That asshole’s never alone,’ the guy said, tone cold as ice. Suddenly, you lost your appetite, too nervous about where this conversation was going. ‘We’ve been watching him for months and now you’re telling me you’d fuck up our best chance to get him away from his lackeys for what?’

Yeonjun’s friend swallowed the food in his mouth and checked you out from head to toe. He didn’t seem impressed and it left a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. You were wearing your prettiest summer dress and it had taken you half an hour to create the curls in your hair.

‘A pair of adequate legs?’ He finished his monologue, earning an eye roll with his comment on your looks that clearly made you uncomfortable and self-conscious. 

‘Wooyoung, apologise!’ Yeonjun demanded, pushing his bowl to the left side of the table, far enough from his friend to not be able to reach it. Despite his calm tone and unbothered facial expression, his eyes looked angry. Yet, you were more afraid of Wooyoung’s opinion about you than him as though, at one point, your heart had convinced your brain that Yeonjun could have never hurt you.

‘But for real, man! You know, just as I do, that it’s our best chance. She goes on a date with him, she makes sure they go somewhere private and then…’ Wooyoung banged on the table with his fists, his excitement showing. ‘Then, we catch the bastard!’

You gulped, feeling uneasy. On the one hand, you would have loved to have the opportunity to be able to prove to this guy that you were worthy of Yeonjun’s time and attention, and you also wanted to help him get his revenge. On the other hand, the mere thought of going on a date with the chief officer sent an icy, unpleasant shiver down your spine. How were you supposed to make him believe that you wanted to go somewhere private with him? You were a singer, not an actress.

‘It’s seriously not that hard,’ Yeonjun sighed, shaking his head, disappointment soaking into his voice and posture. You watched as he leaned his back against the backrest of his chair and linked his arms in front of his chest with a deep sigh. ‘Repeat after me: I’m sorry I’m such an asshole,’ he said, raising an eyebrow in a way that said: dare to do otherwise.

‘You know I’m right,’ Wooyoung protested, refusing to tear his gaze away from his friend or back down.

You dug your nails into your palms under the table, holding your breath.

‘Fine!’ Wooyoung gave in eventually, scaring you with his sudden declaration. You could feel your cheeks burning up from the humiliation when you realised you weren’t exactly subtle with the way your shoulders jerked upon hearing his loud voice. ‘I’m sorry. Your legs aren’t adequate,’ he said and you nodded on automatic, your thoughts all over the place.

Yeonjun shook his head, but pulled the bowl in front of himself again and didn’t growl at his friend when he stole a spoonful of it immediately.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ Yeonjun grumbled under his nose.

‘Unbelievably handsome,’ his friend retorted, serving himself from your side dishes as well since you hadn’t touched your lunch since he had joined you.

You didn’t protest. You were too busy thinking about their plan to go after the chief officer, what it could have entailed and how much danger Yeonjun could have gotten himself into if they had decided to attack the Japanese man with his “lackeys” around. Would he have gone to jail if they had gotten caught? How long would they have locked him up?

‘I will do it,’ you proposed out of the blue, the determination in your eyes borderline insane. There was no reason for you to willingly put yourself in that position. You weren’t part of their movement, you were a mere regular at the diner they occasionally used as their meeting point and still… The thought of Yeonjun and his friend - but mostly Yeonjun - getting hurt because you were a coward didn’t sit well with you.

You were also stubborn and you wanted Yeonjun’s friend to like you, so that you would have his support when things got better and a lot more serious between the two of you.  

‘No, you won’t,’ Yeonjun said. He refused to entertain your suggestion and made sure you knew how much he hated your idea with the intensity of his gaze. It burned holes into your skin and closed up your throat.

‘Come on, man! Let the pretty lady talk,’ Wooyoung insisted, nudging his friend’s upper arm, then turning his full attention to you when Yeonjun refused to ease up to the proposal.

Your heart was in your throat when you deliberately ignored Yeonjun and shifted your gaze from his furrowed brows and hard eyes to his friend. You hoped that he knew you didn’t do it to upset him. You simply wanted to help and most importantly, keep him safe.

‘Are you going to be there? The whole time?’ You asked Wooyoung, your nails leaving tiny crescent moons in your palms. You wished Yeonjun would have told you everything was fine, that he wasn’t angry with you and that he would keep an eye on you the whole time, making sure you were safe, but maybe that was selfish. He had every right to be upset, didn’t he? If your brother had been in his shoes, he would have already dragged you out of this diner for insisting on doing something so reckless despite his warning.

‘We won’t let him touch you. I promise,’ Wooyoung pledged, his gaze showing his devotion and you foolishly wanted to believe that his loyalty was meant for you, that your well-being would be more important to him than catching the chief officer off guard in a secluded area. Because an innocent human life should have been worth more than meagre ideals, right?  

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you allowed yourself a glance at Yeonjun whose eyes were already on you. For a second it looked like he wanted to tell you something. Maybe he wanted to give it another try and talk you out of this crazy idea; maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was childishly excited about the chance to get close to the Japanese man with your help and he was guilty about it. Maybe you were overthinking it.

‘I’ll get you out of there before you know it,’ Yeonjun declared in the end with a curt nod, sending a small albeit genuine-looking smile in your way from the other side of the table. 

You reciprocated the gesture with one of your shy smiles and turned back to your abandoned soup. That was all the reassurance you needed.

The first few bites were spent in silence, but then Wooyoung asked about your relationship with Nishiki Kousuke, how had the two of you met and how confident you were that you could have influenced his choice of date location. You admitted that you weren’t too sure you had that much power over the chief officer, but promised them that you would do your best and asked for suggestions of less crowded yet nice places to go on a first date in the city.

Once the three of you went over every crucial detail, you acknowledged with a happy heart that Wooyoung was actually curious about you, about your thoughts of his best friend and the short history the two of you shared. He wanted to know your favourite dishes and drinks, where you had grown up and what you liked to do for fun. His rambles and anecdotes about himself and the guys (including Yeonjun and a bunch of people whose names you had never heard before) successfully took your mind off the mission you had signed up for.

By the time you had to leave, so that you could have taken the tram to your workplace, you were almost excited about helping the boys.

Unsurprisingly, you only had to wait a week for the Japanese officer to approach you again; from there, making him believe that he actually had a chance was a piece of cake. It took you a couple of soft smiles, a bit less resistance. Then, on the third night that he found you sitting on your own by the main bar, he jumped on the opportunity before your boss could have called your stage name and urged you to stand behind the microphone.

Lying into your brother’s face was harder. It left open wounds on your heart that despite his protective nature, he never once questioned your words when you told him that you had to take on an extra shift because one of the girls had fallen sick and couldn’t sing. Still, deep down you knew he wouldn’t have understood, nor would he have let you out of his sight if you had told him the truth.

So that night you said goodbye to Taehyung the way you always did when he left for work sooner than you did. Then, you waited for ten slowly passing minutes, anxiously sipping on your calming tea, fearing that your brother might have left something at home and would catch you red-handed. You had never felt so much guilt in your entire life.

As soon as your hands stopped trembling, you put on your prettiest dress and styled your hair according to the latest trends in the capital city. The silver necklace in your neck was a piece of jewellery you had inherited from your grandmother, while the rose-coloured tint on your lips was the newest addition to your collection. You had bought it at the market during your last brother-sister date with Taehyung on Sunday morning.

Your heart was in your throat.

If you wanted to be a hundred percent honest, you still weren’t too comfortable with the idea of this man knowing where you lived, but Wooyoung and a similarly young man, Changbin had convinced you that you would never have to see his face again after your date, so you had agreed to share your real address and real name with the officer to rock him into a false sense of safety.

While you were waiting for chief officer Nishiki in front of the building, you repeatedly reminded yourself that Yeonjun would be out there, watching over you the whole time. And not just him, but his friends as well. You were safe. You were helping the man find peace through his revenge and then… then you would confess your feelings for him because after this, you would have a chance for a good life without his past haunting him.

‘Good evening, beautiful,’ was what pulled you out of your head, back into the present where Nishiki Kousuke was looking at you like he was about to dig his teeth into you and tear you to pieces.

‘Good evening, chief officer,’ you reciprocated his greeting with a hopefully believable, shy smile. You forced your body to stay still when he reached out for your hand and to not flinch because of the unwanted touch; you forced yourself to see a different face where there were no adorable, pouty lips or a cute nose, no rounded glasses or a warm pair of chocolate eyes.

You liked walking down the streets, window-shopping and snacking on street food, but of course you had never told any of these to your date, so it really shouldn’t have taken you by surprise when he urged you towards his car instead. You followed him obediently, mumbling a thank you under your nose when he opened the door for you to the passenger’s seat.

You were worried that the guys weren’t prepared for following a car.

‘Where are we going?’ You asked, to prevent your brain from coming up with different scenarios on its own, worst case scenarios, scenarios in which you were left on your own and this man would do as he pleased. Would you be able to tell him no if he started to get a little bit too touchy? Would you be able to push him away without angering him and suffering the consequences?

You dug your nails into your palms, looking out the window, trying to figure out where you were and where you were heading.

‘It’s a surprise, sweetheart. You’ll love it,’ the Japanese man reassured you, patting your head and ruffling your hair a little along with it. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you would have found it funny how the very same gesture from Yeonjun had never bothered you, but you were fidgety and anxious, so there was very little that you had found particularly funny.

You still offered the officer a shy smile.

Probably seeing how awkward you felt in the car and hopefully mistaking it for your lack of dating experience, chief officer Nishiki attempted to break the ice with casual small talk. He told you how happy he was that the weather was pleasantly warm instead of unbearingly hot or rainy. He joked about how his uniform got super heavy when it got soaked, he talked about his achievements and his ambitions. You hummed, nodded and smiled in this sequence like you had been taught, asking questions that encouraged him to talk more, filling the silence, as though you were genuinely interested in getting to know him more.

The ride did feel shorter this way and you were grateful for the momentary distraction even though you couldn’t have recited half of what the man was saying. Honestly, you didn’t have the slightest idea when he had started to talk about his father or how he had managed to divert the topic to something so personal without you noticing.

The building you parked in front of was a traditional, Japanese coffee shop with a beautiful, lush garden in its centre. The cherry trees overpowered the distinct smell of roasted bean and dressed the otherwise green scenery into a lovely shade of pink. 

‘It is beautiful, but…’ you stuttered, looking around and taking in the breathtaking sight. At that moment, although you knew this man was bad news and his pushy attitude had indeed put you off during the past weeks, you felt touched that he had taken his time to find this coffee shop for your date, for you. It was just that… something felt off about the silence, the complete lack of heartfelt chatters. ‘Are they closed for the day? Are we allowed to be here?’

Logically, it made no sense that the two of you had been able to enter the building if they had been closed. However, people made mistakes and if the owner had left the door open by accident, you would have hated to cause any inconvenience with your presence.

‘We are. I rented the whole place just for us.’ He came up behind you, placing his hand on your waist and pushing you forwards gently, towards the nearest empty table outside in the private garden.

You gulped, but you obliged without any complaint.

In search for the menu, you soon realised that you didn’t need one, because when a middle aged man walked up to you, he already had some snacks in his hands along with two cups of coffee: an espresso for the chief officer and a cinnamon coffee for you like he had known that was your current favourite even though you had only ever mentioned it to Yeonjun and of course, your brother, who had been there when you had first given it a try. With a knot in your throat, you furrowed your brows, but accepted the drink.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ officer Nishiki urged you, smiling at you from behind his cup.

You bit back the comment that he had already seemed to know more about you than you were comfortable sharing. Yeonjun would have laughed at a remark like this, calling you feisty with a proud look on his face, but this man would have most probably put you back to your place. Offending him would have cost more than what it was worth.

So you started talking. You told him about your hometown, why you had come to the capital city and what kinds of food you enjoyed in general. You were so afraid that he would have caught on to every white lie that fell from your lips that you didn’t dare to say anything else but the truth.

‘Excuse me, chief officer! I need to use the restroom,’ you said softly when you finished your coffee and the boys still didn’t show any sign that they were around, watching over you, even though you had unknowingly gotten the Japanese man alone just like they had wished you to. Had they really lost you when you had gotten in that car? Were you on your own?

You walked into the restroom on the opposite side of the shop as slowly as you could without looking unnatural or forced, then leaned over the marble sink and splashed some cold water on your face, mindful of your light makeup. You had to figure out how to put an end to this date politely since you honestly doubted you would have been able to inform the guys about where you were. Argh. You couldn’t believe that all of your effort was in vain.

You snapped your head to the right, towards the door, when you heard a creaking sound: a clear sign that it was being opened. You had thought the coffee shop was empty except for the two of you and the owner, which meant that the women’s restroom should have been a safe place for you where you could have thought through your options without being disturbed.

‘It’s just me,’ a familiar voice whispered, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine even before you would have recognized to whom it belonged. You pressed your lips together into a thin line, hiding your hands behind your back, so you didn’t hold onto the sink desperately. ‘I didn’t intend to scare you,’ the officer said, and while his tone was gentle, his presence made you feel unsafe.

‘Is everything okay? Did something happen?’ You asked instead of letting your complaints slip through your teeth as the latter would have done no good to either of you in the current situation.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart,’ the man reassured you, his words creating an odd juxtaposition with the way he took a large step closer to you then another, crowding your personal space.

If there was nothing to worry about, why was he there? In the women’s restroom.

It was when your shoulder bumped into the wall that you realised your legs were moving on their own, trying to put some distance between the two of you. Too bad the room was small and with the officer between you and the exit, you had nowhere to hide or run.

‘We should go back to our table then,’ you tried, hoping that your act of innocence would pull you out of this weird predicament, but you weren’t so lucky.

Instead, the Japanese man cupped your cheeks and grinned at you, his calloused fingertips fondling the sensitive skin under your eyes before one of his hands slid to your neck, to your shoulder, all the way down your arm until it found itself a new home on your waist. You could feel panic rising in your insides.

‘I would like to go back to—’ your plea was cut short when a pair of rough lips was pressed against your virgin ones, stealing the air from your lungs. It took you a couple of heartbeats to come back to your senses and when you did, you gave your all to push the man as far from yourself as possible.

Unfortunately, your noodle arms could only do so much for your freedom.

‘Hm, you smell so good,’ the man’s nose grazed along your jawline, his mouth attached to the juncture between your shoulder and the base of your neck.

You started to hit his upper arms with your fists, but your grunts and painful groans seemed to only fuel his excitement. You tried not to think of what was brushing against your lower abdomen when he pressed you against the wall with his body.

Even though a rational part of you doubted that anyone would have come to your rescue if you had screamed loud enough, your survival instincts knew no logic when you cried for help from the top of your lungs. You called for the owner, you called for your brother, Yeonjun, Wooyoung, anybody. You were sobbing and begging and all your assaulter had to say was:

‘You’re so pretty when you’re crying.’

You didn’t know when you had started dissociating from reality, whether you had done so to save yourself or you had been just too tired. Anyhow, in one moment the man sneaked his hand under your clothes, torn fabric hanging on your body haphazardly, then someone lifted you off the floor, mumbling reassuring words into your ear.

‘I’ve got you. I’m sorry we were so late. I should have never let this get this far. I’m sorry,’ he said and you just hummed, too exhausted to speak.

With your head against his chest, the darkness didn’t scare you. You let it embrace you and lull you into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, but before you could have freaked out, your gaze fell on a pair of rounded glasses sitting on an adorable nose, a pair of chocolate eyes filled with worry, relief and guilt and a pair of pouty lips that put heart was at ease. You were with Yeonjun. You were safe.

‘Hey, shh! It’s okay, it’s okay. You would never have to see him again, we made sure of it,’ he said, reaching out to the apple of your cheek to wipe the tear off your face even though you wouldn’t have been able to point out when you had started to cry or why you were crying. ‘Is it okay if I touch you?’ He asked for your permission and you nodded, melting under the soft touch of his fingertip. He touched you like you were fragile, like you could have broken the moment he looked in the other direction and maybe he was right. Maybe a part of you was broken because why else would you have been crying if not from the mental wounds that disgusting man had inflicted on your soul.

‘I was so scared,’ you sobbed, ignoring the dull headache in your temples, so that you could sit up and pull Yeonjun close. You hid your face in his neck, welcoming his protective, strong arms around your petite figure.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, over and over like a mantra until your tears waned and your body wasn’t shaking anymore.

You fell asleep without meaning to.

You woke up two more times before you had enough energy to get out of bed, but none of your sleeps took longer than four hours. Your entire being was tired, but your body couldn’t rest; it wasn’t even about your dreams. When awake, your brain was too mushy to reproduce your nightmares. If not for the angry red scratches on your lower arm and neck, you would have assumed you had slept like a stone, completely unmoving. 

‘Look who’s here! The Sleeping Beauty,’ Wooyoung exclaimed when you showed up at the top of the stairs, looking down at the interior of the diner that had been your safe place in the last couple of weeks. There were so many people inside. A lot more than you had ever seen in the building.

Offering the boy a small albeit genuine smile, you grabbed the handrail and descended the stairs, perfectly aware of the moment Yeonjun realised his best friend was talking about you. Not because your gut feeling had never failed you before or because you had never made a mistake in your life when reading other people, but because he made it so obvious, snapping his head in your direction and standing up from his chair abruptly as soon as his eyes found you.

‘Hi,’ you whispered when Yeonjun was in front of you, your throat still a bit itchy from all that crying and screaming.

‘You should rest,’ he said, lifting his eyebrows as an indication that he wanted you to go back to his room.

You shook your head.

‘Don’t send me away, please,’ you insisted and he sighed, defeated, when his best friend’s steps came to a halt by your side.

Wooyoung ruffled your already messy hair and gave the other man a glance that you couldn’t have seen, only its consequences: the small twitch of Yeonjun’s lips, his shoulders falling a tad forwards, the light in his eyes burning with the force of a thousand suns. He brushed his friend’s hand off you and held his own out for you.

You took it without hesitation.

Leaving a chuckling Wooyoung behind, he led you towards the backdoor, but didn’t sit down by the makeshift table in the small street behind the diner like he had done the first time you had come here. Instead, he pulled you towards a metal ladder on the right side of the building and nudged you to go first, so that he could have caught you if you had slipped.

Admittedly, you were nervous, but you didn’t fall.

‘Come, sit with me. Here!’ Yeonjun encouraged you to sit on the edge of the roof right next to him and you once again did what he said because his contentment made you happy. You looked at the small package that he pulled out of his inner pocket, the small bites of yakgwa wrapped in his handkerchief mouth-watering.

‘Is there a celebration down there? There are a lot of people here tonight,’ you inquired as you took a piece of honey biscuit into your hand and lifted it to your lips. It tasted delicious.

‘Hn. You can call it a celebration, I think,’ he agreed, munching on a yakgwa of his own, not taking his eyes off you even though the sight in front of you and right beneath your swinging legs was beautiful. As a singer who worked at night, you had already seen this side of the capital city numerous times, but the nightlife from above was breathtaking in a different way. People drinking happily on the terrace, people passing by: it was like a scene straight out of one of your favourite romance books.

‘What’s the occasion?’ You wondered aloud, unsure how long you had been unconscious or whether there was a national holiday you had forgotten about. Or was this an anniversary, a birthday of someone from the boys’ circles?

‘Taking Nishiki out of the picture, it was a huge step forwards,’ Yeonjun explained shortly, in no way going into details about what he had meant by taking the Japanese man out of which picture exactly. Suddenly, his promise of you never having to see your assaulter again came to your mind and you gulped, anxious due to the implication.

You dug your round nails into your palm to anchor yourself. So what if they had locked him up somewhere where none of his subordinates could have found him? What if they had hit him for information and for what he had done to you? It wasn’t like he would have let you go if you had asked him to stop touching you. His no deserved to not be heard, too.

You didn’t realise just how hard you were pressing your nails into your flesh until Yeonjun took your hands in his and forced your fists open. The tiny, crescent-shaped crevices in your palms remained visible after the first couple of seconds.

You shivered when he grazed his fingertips along the wounds, his touch light as a feather. 

‘It’s all thanks to you,’ he whispered, eyes bright but undecipherable while he was drawing calming, non-figurative patterns on your skin the entire time.

Your cheeks were heating up under Yeonjun’s undivided attention, your heart pounding with a new level of intensity when letting go of your left hand, he brushed a stray lock behind your ear. It might have been your imagination, but you swore it felt like he lingered longer than it was strictly necessary.

You closed your eyes on instinct, anticipation growing in your chest, pale lips parting slightly. The last person who had kissed you had ruined many first things for you, but at that moment all you could think about was Yeonjun beside you: his hand cupping one side of your face, his rolled up sleeves, his pouty lips. You wondered how the latter would have felt against yours. Would they have brought back horrible memories or erased them effortlessly?

‘So cute,’ he mumbled so close, so super close to your face that you could not only hear him perfectly, but feel his warm breath fanning over your skin.

Yeonjun’s lips were pillowy against yours, tentative, gentle. He made no attempt at forcing his way into your mouth, he was merely nipping on your chapped lower lip as though that was enough. It wasn’t, not really, but you were still grateful for his consideration and decided not to push, either.

Under the starlight, breathing in Yeonjun until your lungs were on fire, you started to dream of an independent country, too, sharing not only a sweet kiss with the activist but ambitions and goals. A peaceful fantasy of a future together.

Although you hadn’t participated in the party the night before, at least not longer than a few minutes that you had spent with Wooyoung and a pretty girl named Jungeun while you had been waiting for Yeonjun to grab some more snacks and drinks for the two of you, you had unintentionally stayed until sunrise, then fallen asleep in a comfortable position on Yeonjun’s lap. Therefore, in the morning, on your way home, you were desperately trying to come up with an explanation that could have placated your brother in case he was waiting for you on the couch, furious.

Taking the stairs, you climbed two stairs at a time, then took a step backwards, to not be too fast even though you had been embarrassingly late. You gave yourself a peptalk three times in those ten or so minutes it took you to get to the second floor.

‘Oppa. I am home,’ you mumbled under your nose as you opened, then closed the front door, hoping to find your flat empty. However, what you walked inside for was anything but that or the scary pictures your brain threw at you ever since you had woken up in Yeonjun’s arms.

The living room was a mess and so was the kitchen and every other room you passed by. Like an explosion had been set off in the middle of your home.

‘Taehyung! Oppa! Are you here? Where are you?’ You screamed, running from one room to the other, trying to make sense of the situation while simultaneously, you were desperate to find your brother. You didn’t understand what was happening.

‘Heh-hre.’ A weak sound came from the bathroom and you tore the door open, almost losing your balance due to how dizzy the horrific sight made you. You dropped on your knees and crawled to your brother with tears in your eyes.

‘What… what happened?’ You asked, your trembling hands reaching out to his bloody face. ‘We have to go to the hospital.’

The choked chuckle that bubbled up in his throat tugged on your stomach in the worst way, but you resisted the urge to throw up because it felt like one of those situations where you had to be strong for the other person’s sake. And you loved him so damn much.

‘Bir-dy… you need… get out,’ he said, using his remaining strength to push you away, but you were stubborn and for the first time in your life, stronger than him.

‘No! Come on! You need to see a doctor,’ you insisted and linked your arm with his, so that you could pull him into a standing position before you somehow get him on your back. That was the only way you could imagine yourself carrying him out of the flat, down the stairs and outside of the building to get yourself a taxi.

‘Get… out!’ Taehyung pleaded, but you brushed his concerns aside and gritted your teeth. He was heavy. He was half-unconscious and white like the wall in your living room. You had to put all of his weight on your shoulders and you just couldn’t take more than two steps ahead without falling head first on the floor.

You groaned because of the pain.

‘Please,’ you begged, unsure whether the blood on your face was yours or his and whether he heard you at all.

You didn’t know what to do.

‘Oppa, please! We need to go to the hospital. Please,’ you screamed, frantic and then…

Then someone put a musty bag over your head and darkness welcomed you as soon as you felt a sharp pain in your nape.

Admittedly, you could be a little naive sometimes. Your father liked to tell you that you were too innocent for this world, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the moment you came back to your senses, tied to a wooden chair, facing two mean-looking men in similar uniforms to the one chief officer Nishiki had always worn, that they wouldn’t let you walk away unharmed even if you had told them everything. So you promised yourself that you would be strong.

It took you three days of constant psychological and physical torture in a dark room with no windows to wish you were dead. It took another two to completely lose hope.

Another week’s worth of rock-hard bread was served to you by the time these ruthless men, who found joy in your tears, deemed you utterly useless.

‘From now on, no more food for this one,’ one of the Japanese said, his tone unamused and nonchalant before he left the room with his lackeys on his heels.

You turned around on the floor where you had been shoved and pressed your burning face against the bloody albeit cool concrete. The pleasant change in temperature coaxed a pleased moan out of your throat. 

Floating in and out of consciousness, you stared at the dirty wall in front of you. You didn’t want to think about what was happening in the outside world, yet you did so nevertheless because the more one wished to shut out a thought, the more it stuck. You wondered whether Yeonjun was okay. Had your brother gotten to the hospital in time? Had anyone noticed that you were gone?

You hit the concrete with your pulsing fist. At least two of your fingers were broken and your nail was missing from one because of one of the very first interrogations you had been put through. You were pretty sure it had gotten infected and not just that, but several other scars on your body.

You felt so tired, so exhausted. You prayed that this time it would finally come to an end. The pain, the heartache.

In your dreams, you were happier.

In your dreams, Yeonjun came for you and saved you. He took you to your brother and both of you healed from your traumas slowly but steadily.

In your dreams, Yeonjun not only found you, but also pulled you close as you were watching the Japanese flags go up in flames all around the city.

In your dreams, you won.

Delirious, you turned your head towards your cell’s door when it opened, your chest being filled with a scene of eternal peace as you were staring at the person who was looking down at you from the threshold. At that moment, you felt it in your guts that this was it, that no harm would come to your way anymore.

the end.