#and with her nostrils i leave a little gap where they would connect like i do with naruto

[cheemscakecat]

AI Art mistakes Episode 1: Gravity Falls as an 80s mystery movie.

Like usual, AI struggles to replicate text. There are a number of reasons why an AI generated background image is a bad idea under most circumstances, especially as a final draft.

Here is an actual picture of the Mystery Shack from the show. This design was based off of research done by the team working on the show. They travelled to actual tourist traps in order to find objects to draw as background details, like the signs and decor around the shack.

The AI version doesn’t scream tourist trap house, it screams random gas station [which is what I assume the rectangles in the far bottom right are supposed to represent]. The scale of the signage on the real design gives us insight into Stan Pines, the owner of the business, and what we can expect to find on a tour. The moss, missing S laying on the roof, and big board underneath all tell us something important: This is an old building, and the owner is cheap.

The scale of the full shack is much larger than the little AI version, so much that the Gift shop area feels around the same size as the whole thing. The AI version isn’t believable as a house/shop combo because of how small it is, and the broken window!

There’s a room big enough for two children to have separate beds and a large room with a window nook in the attic area of the mystery shack. We don’t know where this bathroom is on the ground floor, but given the fact that there’s an outhouse, we can assume this is meant for the family living at the Shack, not tourists.

The detail of the non-suspicious triangular windows is lost in the AI image, and since none of the posters even spell words, there’s no good details gained from including them.

This support on the porch roof doesn’t connect back to the building, it connects to this tree trunk. And the supposed gas pumps don’t make sense either because there’s usually only one or two, and they’d all be the same height.

AI Dipper Pines just looks like that one kid from Stranger things.

Another issue with AI art is that the texture on “Dipper’s” hair is super soft and fluffy like a cat’s fur. You can see this actor’s curly hair leaves actual gaps and is more wiry and shiny… because it’s human hair. Also, the image from the show has this grainy texture on the skin and cloth, because the show is set in the 80s and cameras weren’t high definition. AI art looks too smooth and buttery because it doesn’t have the human understanding of aesthetics and texture.

He also looks like Frodo, but I don’t know why the AI would pull from a non-80s themed film.

That ain’t Journal 3, thats Diary 9!

The AI didn’t even make it red! Made it massive and square, but the rest wasn’t allowed.

“Dipper” isn’t looking at anything because an AI drew this and had no plan for what he’s supposed to be staring at. Also, one of his nostrils is smaller and his right eyebrow is trying to escape AI purgatory.

Don’t let ro-bro cook, AI “Mabel” looks like Minecraft Brett Cooper.

Naw, because why is AI Mabel’s jawline stronger than her Twin Brother’s?!

That is NOT Mabel bro, that is a thirty year old married woman on Pinterest!

With a sock puppet for a thumb.

They made Stan into a fusion of Walta White and Stan Lee, which makes sense. But his empty black eye socket and deep wrinkles give me a fight or flight response.

This is what real eyes and wrinkles look like. Once again the text on Stan’s jacket makes no sense [and being AI has no design thought put into it], and the hair looks like cat fur. Walta’s beard is a good example of what “Stan’s” mustache should look like texture wise.

This isn’t Soos, this is Deter Diffin!

Literally what is the same? Got bro out here looking like a slapstick mobster with 3 offended brain cells.

Look, I know Mabel saved that 8 legged cow, but even she’s wise enough to get stranger danger vibes from bro. AI waddles looks like one of those cursed 3-D Peppa Pig animations from the depths of YouTube.

So this next one, I didn’t even know who it was supposed to be, but the video had timestamps in the description…

…..

…..

….

So Ford… isn’t a ginger, first of all. Second of all, he’s literally wearing a baseball cap with a beanie over it. Because that would do anything for you.

Doesn’t look like AI Stan. Doesn’t even look like his painted self, much less the actual Ford. The AI latched onto the author thing and made him do a book signing or something. I promise you, if Ford got the chance to do a book signing he would not look this depressed. Maybe he can feel the disappointment through the screen, IDK.

AI Bill Cipher. Apparently. Bro looks like a Demonic Discord Mod who found out his Lemon Demon concert ticket is counterfeit the night of the event. I’m not even going to waste time explaining this one.

So yeah, that was episode one of critiquing/roasting AI art.

[erps-kwerpse]

Reasons Why It’s Good I’m Not With Jen

Can’t dance. Has no rhythm at all. Used to find it adorable until I saw people laughing at her and hate to say I was embarrassed.

Once overheard her say ‘Let’s grab a cappuccino some time and we’ll talk’ to my teenage cousin who wanted advice about his university applications.

Generally has quite nineties ideas about what is glamorous, like cocktails or spending twenty pounds on a plate of tagliatelle in a ‘little place’.

Refuses to get to the airport a minute earlier than ninety minutes before a flight takes off.

Don’t have to persuade her to like where we live any more.

When she would go for a run in the evening she would come into the living room, stretch in front of the TV and say ‘What’s this?’ and make me explain the programme I was watching even though she knew what it was, just to make a point that she was exercising while I was watching Help, I’m a Hoarder!

Talked too much and too smugly about coming from a big family, as if it was her decision to have three siblings.

Always used to boast about how she’d reject an OBE if it were offered to her because of her apparent lefty republican values but would never know why she’d be offered an OBE in this fantasy when I asked her.

Would definitely never reject an OBE if it were offered to her.

Would take an hour to go to bed, no matter what time she got in, because she’d do a seven-step skincare routine, browse shopping apps and listen to podcasts. And yet only left twenty minutes from her alarm going off to having to leave the flat in the morning.

Refuses to get to the airport a minute earlier than ninety minutes before a flight takes off.

Always late for me, never late for work.

Can’t drive (childish).

Somehow managed to relate the plot of every film we watched back to her own life.

Her unbearable sister Miranda who carries nonsensical homemade signs at protests saying things like HISTORY IS WATCHING and who I know hates me because she always ranted about ‘straight white guys’ when she came round for dinner, no matter the topic. She used to say ‘Sorry, Andy’ but didn’t by the end. 

Her work friends: boring and cliquey and not fun or funny. 

All talk about being some big adventurer but never followed through. Wanted to take a year off to travel because she never had a gap year (‘next year’). Wanted to move to Paris (‘not the right time’). Wanted to get an undercut (‘work wouldn’t like it’). Wanted to go to an outdoor sex-themed rave (‘when my hay fever gets better’). 

Goes to therapy every week and has done since she was twenty-nine but would never tell me what they spoke about and I’ve never seen that she has anything wrong with her. 

Was too connected to dogs and spoke to them as if they were people.

Somehow managed to relate the plot of every film we watched back to her own life.

Her rude dad.

Her weird mum. 

Comes from a family who go on long circular walks and play board games.

Annoyingly loquacious and was on a debating team at her school, which meant I didn’t win an argument in nearly four years even when I was right about loads of them.

Always on at me about biting my nails, picking my feet, too much hair in my nostrils and bum hole etc., despite the fact she’s always fiddling with her cuticles.

Talked at the cinema.

Pretended she’s unsure about wanting children because she cares about the planet, but I think she just didn’t want children with me.

Would never talk seriously about having children, despite knowing how much I want to be a dad, but would sometimes say ‘That’s one of my baby names’ to people in conversation.

Those baby names included: Noah, Blue (?) and Zebedee.

Snob. Once said that she thought people who wear straw hats at the airport on the way to their summer holiday are ‘regional’.

Lingered too long in museums at every artefact or painting and would have a go at me if I walked through the exhibition too quickly.

Once saw her nod respectfully at a TINY JADE SPOON in the British Museum.

Only saw her cry a handful of times in nearly four years together and it wasn’t when we broke up.

One time was when we were watching a Joni Mitchell documentary.

Ruined my life.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen

I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them.

You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple.

You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us.

I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy.

I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all.

I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re annoy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily.

I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to listen. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant.

I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dressing ta­ble.

I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not.

I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that.

I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life.

And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for always try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable because it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic certificates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance.

I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental.

I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Ben's joke earns him a little laugh. It's perhaps dampened by the feeling of her sibling sitting across from them, seething in an almost playful way, ready to defend both his own favourite movie ~and maybe why she holds it in such high esteem if she's not doting on Val Kilmer's performance~ and the fact that frozen pizza is an abomination, especially in the great state of New York. Her brother was always a proud Brooklyn boy. She can see that Ben seems as caught back on himself as she feels, and she wishes she could be swallowed up by a sudden sinkhole opening up just under her chair, leaving the rest of the coffee shop untouched. Splayed fingertips come up to her lips and she takes a small and even breath. Slowly she pulls her hand away and lets them flutter before dropping her hand to the table top where she wraps it around her cup. Exoneration of wrong doing in a bout of silence but she can't help to try to ameliorate his own internal upheaval ~she's good at reading emotions, particularly hidden ones~ or maybe she's just projecting. She's done it before, likely will in the future. "Not your fault. No need to apologise." Her eyes keep staring into his. Her hand doesn't move from it's perch as it serves a three-fold purpose; it's steadying her nerves which are threatening to skyrocket as the seconds tick by, steadying him with what she hopes is a sense of connection. And selfishly? She likes the feel of him under her palm. The warmth that radiates from him. Neither is Ben encouraging her to keep her hands to herself and there might be something in that. This single moment spools outward slowly as if they are trapping themselves in an emotional amber. True to everything she's come to know about Ben, the way he deflects with humour maybe her favourite and so when he breaks the tension between them? She has to turn her face away and once again kills the laugh he earned on his own merits so that it only comes out as a strangled little snort. Her lips quiver and her nostrils flare when she turns back to look at him. The difficulty keeping composure plainly visible. "Okay, you got me. I...I couldn't desecrate sacred grounds." And it isn't her own pun that draws colour into his face. That makes all of him stiffen subtly. It's only then that she realises she's made a social faux pas that was excusable amongst her circles and she wishes she could take the question back. Wave away his memory of it, and pretend that they were still innocently disagreeing about age gaps. No one is that lucky though and that's not the way the world works. She watches passively as Ben tries to find some kind of escape from those words, likely because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. Maybe it would have been better if he'd simply laughed as has happened to her before. She has become used to reacting ~or rather, ignoring~ to that and only later re-examining the scene when she's in the comfort of her own home. With Jay commiserating with her over ice-cream or wine. She nods when he answers her. Tries not to look so disappointed by the hesitation. It had been such a simple question even if it had taken her by surprise. She would never dream of bringing something like that up so plainly and she doesn't imagine that Ben would explain, even if he does, stunning her further. Her throat cracks from brittleness as Ben goes on to explain and there's an eeriness to the words she can't put her finger on so instead she soundlessly murmurs an 'okay'. Moisture gathers along the lower rims of her eyes and threatens to smudge the kohl with messy fingers. She's not on the verge of tears but his softness is moving. With her free hand, she lifts his cup and takes a sip of the atrociously cold coffee as it's enough to ease her throat. "I dunno what is a milk-toast, except maybe a good breakfast." She doesn't realise that she's slipped a little, doesn't hear her islands weaving into her voice and giving it the grammar and accent she is most comfortable with. "Can't say you wouldn't look better with some bacon but I can say you're pretty cute."

For a haole boy. The qualifier dies on the back of her tongue and she covers it with clearing her throat. "I like you a lot. And maybe, in time that will turn into something..." Slight shrug of her shoulder. "Deeper? More defined. Something. And maybe I would like to go out on a date, one we've planned and are both aware of. But like you, I'm just happy to have you in my life, in whatever way that presents itself. And maybe that's enough right now. Unless you wanna run off today and get matching tattoos with me."

Ben's eyes gleamed at her suggestion. "Tombstone?" he echoed. "So it's not just a great frozen pizza?" Chuckling when he caught Ellie's gaze, he assured her, "Kidding. I've certainly heard of Tombstone -- it's a classic -- though I confess to never having seen it. And now that you've laid down the offer, I'm afraid it's too late to recant."

A chaperone?

Ben chuckled at that, though once he realized the light in Ellie's smile had dimmed, he caught himself and followed suit. Clearly, she was uncomfortable -- or rather, with talk of her "romantic outings" and, more notably, her father -- and a sharp stab of guilt seared between his ribs, stark and white-hot.

"I didn't mean to imply..." Trailing off, he frowned and wondered if he'd overstepped. As comfortable as he felt with Ellie, he knew she was a private woman, so perhaps his teasing quips had unearthed in her something far too dark and weighty to add to their conversation. Before he could apologize, however, there was a visible shift as Ellie nailed him in place with her sharp, searching eyes.

Her fingertips fanned across his knee then, and once she leaned forward, Ben found himself doing the same. She admonished him for the age gap dismissal -- something he'd done more so because of the girl in question, rather than the point she was making -- and despite wanting to laugh at her "daddy issues" joke, the intensity of her gaze kept his mouth closed and his heart stumbling inside his chest.

After a long pause, he softly quipped, "Would you truly waste the coffee?"

It was a terrible joke (he was rather notorious for those), and with his pulse rising in his throat, he felt Ellie's hand tighten on his knee as a look of genuine befuddlement flashed across her gaze.

"Would...would you....am I...Are we on a date, Ben?"

He drew a sharp breath. Regardless of his inner daydreams and fantasies, hearing his thoughts spoken aloud made his cheeks heat and his spine stiffen, his eyes darting in between her face and the table in rapid succession.

"I...don't know," he stammered. God, it sounded so pathetic when laid out in this way, but the truth was, Ben didn't know. He'd been fond of Ellie for a long, long time, and he loved listening to her speak -- he loved being around with her -- so was the prospect of a mounting crush, and by proxy, a date truly so farfetched?

Clearing his throat, Ben opened and closed his hands around his coffee mug. "I like you," he fumbled. His voice sounded strange and raw to his own ears, and wincing, he shook his head. "I don't know if it's...i-if it's a like-like situation, but if this makes you uncomfortable in any way, I'll happily tamp down whatever this is. I could withstand losing many things in this life, Ellie, but you definitely aren't one of them."

Her touch on his leg grew heavier, though whether it was a genuine affectionate pressure, or his own self-awareness of her body in proximity to his own, he couldn't be sure.

With a wobbly smile, Ben quickly blurted, "Please say something. I may look like a milquetoast, but I promise I can handle whatever it is you have to say."

[buckyownsmylife]

hold up - andy barber fluff

The one where Andy gets you pregnant but you’re young and haven’t been dating for long.

Warnings:  Age gap (Divorced!Andy w/ College!Reader, so she’s legal), pregnancy, light angst, supportive!Andy, mentions of abortion, fluff, mentions of smutty thoughts so I don’t think I advise minors to read this, AU! where Jacob is alive and in college and Laurie and Andy are divorced, minor medical scare from Andy’s confusion, miscommunication that leads to slightly asshole!Andy but it’s quick A/N: Special thanks to @navybrat817​ and @angrythingstarlight​ for helping me choose this collage. This fic was requested a while back. I ended up focusing more on the fact that the reader was younger than Andy (which wasn’t even part of the request) than on the fact that they hadn’t been dating for long, mostly because in my mind, this was happening in the same universe as this fic. Hope you guys like it and respect the reader’s decision to keep the baby the same way you should respect it if she decided to abort it or give it up for adoption. 

Andy’s P.O.V.

Another day, another case, another headache. Working in law gets more tiring every day, and yet I persisted. Even through a divorce and its subsequent complications, I persisted. Sometimes, I forgot why.

I missed the days I remembered why I got into law in the first place. Those idyllic mornings, when I still thought I could change the world. Now all I wanted to do was to get home and eat my girlfriend’s pussy until she passed out from pleasure.

Just the thought of her sweet cunt had me licking my lips as I drove back to my place, wishing I could stop by hers instead. It still weirded me out that I was now in a relationship with someone that was my son’s age, someone who was still in college, but then I remembered all the moments we shared and was overcome with the realization that I simply didn’t want to let her go.

I knew it was selfish of me, but I believed I deserved at least this good thing in my life after my separation. As long as she wanted me, I wouldn’t let her go. And I was pretty sure that if she decided to leave me, I’d still fight for her to stay.

I loved her. I loved her enough to get through the hazard that was coming clean about our relationship to Jacob. I loved her enough to dream about a future together, even if it looked too far away for now. 

Still, I’d caught myself daydreaming about coming home to her more and more these days. It seemed that the more exhausted I was, the more I wanted her to be waiting for me when I crossed the apartment’s door, and I found myself thinking about buying a ring too many times for someone who had gone through such a lousy divorce and was dating a girl who still had college exams to worry about.

I knew our future together - if there even was one - was still too far, but I couldn’t help but want it now. Like, right now. So the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see her for another week or so while she prepared for finals was the closest thing to hell I could go through right now.

Which only made the sight of her by my apartment’s door that much sweeter. “Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Not even giving her the chance to explain, I pulled her into a needy kiss, desperate to taste her again.

I didn’t even notice that, in my eagerness to have her in my arms once more, I had dropped my briefcase and coat on the floor, opting to pay attention to the girl I held in the middle of the hallway.

I only saw the tracks of tears in her beautiful face when I released her, too. Immediately, my heart started to pound against my chest. Could something bad have happened to her? Was she hurt?

Cradling her face in my hands, I automatically started to wipe away her tears. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” For whatever reason, my words only served to cause her crying to become more frantic, her sobs breaking out of her chest freely now.

My heart felt heavy at the sight of her that desperate. The urgent need to do something, to help her, but not knowing what could be done made my throat feel like it was closing. So I did the first thing I could come up with - I picked her up, not caring about my personal belongings at all as I managed to open the door and take her to the couch with me. 

“Shh… It’s alright, baby girl. I’m right here with you. Just tell me what happened, I’m sure I can help you somehow.” Again, it seemed like it was the wrong thing to say. My words took her to the verge of a panic attack if her breathing pattern was anything to go by, so I bit my tongue and focused on what I knew I could do at that very moment to help her, even if it was very little. I pulled her even closer to me, so her head was resting on my chest, and softly cradled her while rubbing her arm with one hand, while the other played with her hair. “I love you,” I repeated, over and over again. “You’re okay.”

It took some time, much longer than I hoped for, but at last her sobs started to come in bigger intervals, her breathing becoming deeper again. Slowly, she started to calm down and focus on me, and I waited until she was ready to speak, terrified of making her start crying again by pushing her to share what had caused such a terror.

“I went to the doctor today,” she started, and if at first my mind drew a blank because I had in no way anticipated this to be the start of her explanation, my heart quickly started to pound against my chest when I managed to process what she had said. 

Was she sick? I knew she had been feeling a bit under the weather recently, even throwing up some mornings, but I thought it was a bug that had been going around. She was in college, after all, and those environments were filled with bacteria, just waiting to spread any sort of illness they could provoke.

Was it something serious? For her to be that way, it had to have been. My hands started to sweat at the prospect of losing her. Automatically, I held her tighter, in desperate need to hear more but terrified of what was coming our way.

But she didn’t seem able to say it, whatever it was. Her eyes that had finally connected to mine since she started crying, suddenly fell down to her own hands, and her sniffles warned me that she had started to cry again.

“Y/N…” I begged, covering her hands with mine. “Princess, please, please talk to me. I’m going crazy here, sweetheart. I feel like I might pass out any second now.” Surprisingly, that granted me a giggle, and then, through sniffles and tears, she finally looked up at me again.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know how to drop this bomb on Andy. How do you tell your much older boyfriend, who already has a child who’s your exact age, that you’re pregnant with his kid? I was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore, that he would try to force me to get an abortion.

Terrified that I would have to do this alone.

But I had to tell him. Of course, I had. So taking one last deep breath, I squeezed the hand that was holding mine before confessing, in the bluntest possible way, since it was the only one I could come up with right now, “I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know what I was expecting. I hadn’t actually had the time to figure out how to tell him the news - hence my blurting in the simplest possible way - but that also meant I hadn’t really imagined any outcome for this. I had a lot of fears, of course, but no actual expectation. Still, Andy’s reaction managed to catch me by surprise.

At first, there was nothing at all. He just sat there, his huge hands still covering mine as he stared at me with a blank expression in his face. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could even hear it, amidst the silence in the room. Then, out of nowhere, he pounced on me, effectively knocking me back on the couch when he captured my lips with his. 

I couldn’t catch my breath as he enthusiastically devoured me, his hands cradling my face and caging me in as he forced me to make out with him on his sofa, like two teenagers after school. Andy was such a great kisser that it was hard for me not to melt against the soft cushions, instinctively opening my legs further so he could fit perfectly between them.

The way his strong body made me feel when it was covering mine was precisely what had got us in this mess, in the first place.

“Andy…” I tried to speak and push him away, but he was still kissing me desperately, opting for quick pecks around my face since I didn’t let him deepen his kiss again. “Andy!” I admonished when he continued to ignore me, choosing to suck tiny little bruises from my jaw down to my neck, instead. 

“Baby, I’m terrified over here. Can you please stop trying to distract me and tell me what you’re thinking?” That caught his attention. He finally reduced his kisses, slowly going back to his seating position on the couch and bringing me with him, laying me over his lap again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… I’m so fucking relieved. First, I thought you’d break up with me. Then, since you talked about going to the doctor’s, I thought something was wrong with you. I was desperate, baby girl. Desperate. I figured, one way or another, I was going to lose you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing what was going on through his mind while I struggled to figure out how to explain what was happening made my heart feel heavy with guilt. I guess that, in the state I was in I kind of thought he would have realized what I was going to say, or simply not anticipate any sort of information whatsoever, so to hear that his mind jumped to these worst-case scenarios was heartbreaking to me.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” I assured him, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it in a small show of support. “I’m right here. But we need to figure out how we’re going to do this.” Andy blinked a few times before managing to voice his confusion.

“Do this what?” And then it was my turn to be confused.

“This… kid. What are we gonna do about this?” I watched as his nostrils flared, his grip on me momentaneously hardening, before he managed to get his emotions in check through a long exhale.

“You’re not seriously considering aborting my child, right?” The question - the tone - was like a slap to the face. In all honesty, that option had never even crossed my mind, but the way he was saying it, like I had no say in the matter, killed me inside.

“I’m gonna give you the time to figure out what the hell is wrong with you. I know that this is a pretty overwhelming situation and I just sprung this on you, but that is no excuse to address me in such a manner. Especially if you consider just how much I’m the one who’s really going to have my entire life turned upside down because of this.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

I groaned as I watched her leave the room in the direction of the bathroom, knowing this was her way of letting me know I shouldn’t look for her until I was prepared to apologize. But I was already ready. I knew how terrible my words had sounded, but it came from a place of love and happiness with the situation other than possessiveness. 

So, with that in mind, I rubbed my face before getting up and following her, just in time to find her reentering my bedroom. “I’m sorry, princess. I-I just didn’t know how to react when the thought of you getting an abortion popped into my mind. It’s not like you’re a fucking one night stand or a fling to me, but you’re absolutely right. It’s your body and you should do what makes you comfortable. I just ask you to keep in mind that I would love to have this child with you. I’d support you - I’d support the both of you unconditionally. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’m serious about you. I’m serious about us. I’d marry you tomorrow if it’s what you need to know how serious I really am about this. And yeah, it’s gonna be hard, but I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you, every step of the way.”

By the time I was done with my speech, she had tears in her eyes again, only this time, I knew what it was about, so I only chuckled. “Come here, sweetheart.” I pulled her to me, hugging her close to my body as I caressed the back of her head. “We’re gonna be okay, one way or another.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna abandon me with a small child?” I knew that her question came from a place of insecurity, but I still couldn’t control myself as a growl escaped my chest, my hands tightening around her, as I reminded her, “You’re mine, baby girl. I’m never gonna leave you. Don’t even think that.”

Slowly, she stopped crying, until only a few sniffles were heard every once in a while. “Okay,” she mumbled in a small voice, clearing the bedroom from what was once a silent atmosphere.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s do this. Let’s… Let’s have a baby together.”

A huge smile slowly took over my face as I cradled hers in mine to make sure there was no trace of hesitation in her eyes. “We’re gonna be parents?”

“We’re gonna be parents,” she confirmed, accepting my hug again. “Well, you’re already a parent.” The reminder had me chuckling to myself.

“I can’t wait to tell Jacob about this. He’s going to flip.” The mischievous tone in my voice earned me a playful slap on the shoulder. 

“No teasing him more than necessary, Andrew. He’s already going to be pretty affected by this.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

[azulaang-chakras]

"I want you to be a part of my future." For Azulaang

6. "I want you to be a part of my future."

Waking on a morning that followed an hour’s worth of sleep felt similar to rising after a night of ten hours. Azula’s eyes crept open slowly, like a snake in the shade looking for the sun. The first thing she wanted to do was stretch, to shake the stiffness out of her muscles. She wanted to yawn, long and loud. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to wake him.

The lemur sat curled at the foot of their bed. The heavy, rhythmic breathing of the bison from the next room pressed against the wall and spilled from the open door that connected their rooms. That Momo seemed fine with sleeping on either side of the bed now was a comforting thought. That she had grown almost reliant on the sound of Appa’s snoring to fall asleep was as bewildering to her as it was amusing.

The sounds of the Southern Air Temple came through the window on the breeze. Some of the new Air Nomads took their master’s teachings on rising and sleeping early too literally. The monks and nuns would no doubt be starting their morning meditations soon. Someone would be putting the first fruit pies into the ovens by now while also doing their best to keep the lemurs out of the kitchen. Others would be sweeping dust and fallen leaves off the temple grounds, tending to the gardens and orchards, sewing or washing clothes, cleaning dishes, all the constant, mundane labors that kept civilizations alive. She could precisely envision what one of the temple residents was doing at the moment. The girl, a fifteen-year-old who had only recently joined them, still felt that she didn’t belong, a feeling Azula knew all too well. She had caught the girl on multiple occasions looking for an extra chore to do so that the others would see her as useful. When the Nomads stopped to play their games, the girl would stand on the sidelines, too afraid to join the revelry. The master of the temple, as compassionate as he was, could be forgiven for failing to notice an individual’s crippling shyness when he had the needs of the group, the needs of the whole nation, weighing on his mind and shoulders. Azula would find her later and again encourage the girl to join one of the games. She would order her to have fun if that’s what it took.

She wasn’t their lady, as the Air Nomads knew no nobles or royals, no leaders save the wisest of their own, but she knew these people as well as a good queen knew her realm, and wanted nothing but the best for them.

Her ears took in the whole world around her. Her eyes, however, only cared for the man still sleeping in her bed.

Aang was such a peaceful sleeper, so unlike her. He preferred to sleep while embracing her, even if it meant waking up to a numb arm. She had convinced him to settle for letting one hand rest lazily on her back. The drool on his pillow chipped away at the image of the all-powerful, respectable avatar, but it amused her. It humbled him slightly, and gave her something to make fun of.

She stared at him for however long it took for him to finally wake. He blinked slowly, trying to escape the feeling that wanted him to shut his eyes again and fall back asleep. Once he made eye contact with her, though, there was no way he would allow himself to sleep in. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice deep and parched, as it was every morning. His hand slowly rubbed her back, appreciating the smoothness of her skin.

“Morning,” she replied. The way her voice sounded so soft in her ears whenever she was alone with him still surprised her. She never thought she could be this way around anyone, or that she’d find someone who made her want to be like this. What had been drilled into her since birth as a weakness had been turned by him into an invaluable power.

He could bend her perceptions and feelings as easily as if they were air and fire.

“How’d you sleep?” asked Aang, the ever attentive and caring lover.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I think you already know.”

She thanked Agni that last night hadn’t been particularly bad.

Aang didn’t have to be the light sleeper that he was to quickly stir awake when he slept next to her on one of her bad nights. The first time they slept together, she had thought it a miracle that she hadn’t ruined their intimate moment. The middle of the night had proven her fears well justified, when a scream erupted from her nightmares into reality.

Don’t touch me, she had thought as her tiny, shivering frame rocked in his arms that night.

Don’t let me go, had been the next thought.

Her mind had called him a liar when he assured her that she was safe, that it was going to be okay. She couldn’t deny when he reminded her that he was there for her.

Azula had never truly grown accustomed to her bad dreams, but she had once reached a point where she had accepted them, like an old warrior who accepted the poorly crafted piece of wood that had long replaced their lost leg. That had changed once she started sleeping with Aang. It had proven that the old wound she thought was finally closed was actually infected, and needed to be reopened so that it could be properly tended to.

While some minds had to rely on fantasy to craft their nightmares, Azula’s mind only needed her memories. The image of Aang writhing painfully in the air as her lightning surged through his body. The venomous, shameful smile she wore when Zuko fought father, or the way he struggled in the dirt after she struck him down. The blinding fury that had seized hold of her and almost killed Mai. She had never truly forgiven herself for any of that. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Aang was that he had unequivocally proven that she had never started to heal. That he was willing to help her was a close second.

It made her feel cowardly and selfish, the way she had come to rely on the shelter his arms could provide her. It made her feel weak whenever she thought of how she relied on his strength to make up for her own shortcomings. It was the avatar’s duty to bring peace and balance to the world. Only the greedy princess of the Fire Nation could demand that he do the same for her.

She knew she didn’t deserve him. She also knew he disagreed with such conclusions.

“What do you want to do?” he inquired. “Sneak some breakfast out of the kitchen? Take a morning flight to the next mountain over?”

“Maybe later,” she answered. “I just want to lay here for a while longer.”

He gave her a little smile that was more welcome than the sunlight seeping through the gap between the curtains. “As you wish.”

He nestled back into bed and closed his eyes, moving a noticeable inch closer to her. Normally, a shared silence was enough, but Azula was overtaken by an impulse, one she could not ignore but wasn’t sure how to properly embrace. A healer Aang had put her in touch with, one who saw to ailments of the mind instead of the body, once counseled her to speak honestly with those she cared about. “Look at me, Aang.”

“Always,” he indulged. He turned to rest on his shoulder so that he could slip his free arm under her, enclosing her in his embrace.

A huff of a laugh escaped her nostrils. The way she would tease his romantic side never failed to please him, and the sight of his joy never failed to please her. Knowing that she had inspired such feelings in him put her in an undeniably good place.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he asked.

She pressed a hand gently to the center of his chest. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course.”

She took a single, deep breath to calm her muffled nerves and find her resolve. “I spent too long not knowing what to make of you.”

“And now?”

One of the first things she had learned about Aang, when he had returned to her life to give her a chance to truly learn about the man behind the avatar, was that if she acquiesced to traveling an inch with him, he could easily convince her to travel a mile. He always wanted to hear what was on her mind, and knew just what to say to help her put words to her thoughts. “I can think of two things I’ve decided about you,” she explained.

“Would you tell me what they are?” he asked with optimistic curiosity.

“I wish you lived in a better place in my past.” If she could tear the memories from her mind, she gladly would. Even if she had to tear something good out with them, at least the intrusive, ugly images would be gone. But she couldn’t, so the bad remained with the good.

“And the second?”

Azula took a moment to study his gray eyes, the warmth of his chest as she felt it rise and fall with his breathing, the way his strong hands felt gentle against her skin. She moved her hand up until her palm covered his cheek. “I want you in my future.”

His smile widened, exposing the grin beneath. He pulled her closer until her chest met his and kissed her. Azula never wanted to know another morning when those lips weren’t there to greet her.

He only stopped to kiss her cheeks, the first stop of his lips on their familiar journey southwards. “Don’t get sappy on me, avatar,” she teased.

She could feel the satisfaction in his smile as his mouth fell against her again and again. “We’re far too late for that, princess.”

A light stream of laughter flowed from her throat, and Aang kissed every sound as it traveled up her neck.

[shoutogepi]

As Long as You’re Safe

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 2.1k smol boi (blurb!)

[ ☁︎, ☀︎ ]  

themes : Soooo not really sure what to call this?? Kinda angst?? But super fluff ending :3

blurb : They are fighting a villain who has the ability to see into their opponent’s memories, and also convey scenarios and images into their opponent’s mind, making them feel like real life. The villain accesses their memories of you, and realizes that that is a very weak spot.

author’s note : idk i felt like I needed a fluff sponge to clean up that nasty first post haha so heres my best janitorial work!

    ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he air whipped past Bakugou’s face, eyes turning into venomous slits as he finally was able to see the villain he had been called in to handle. He had been on patrol on the other side of the area, but when his sidekick didn’t respond to his messages, a gut feeling had urged him to come as backup. The agency had called when he was already halfway there, confirming his suspicion.

This was the guy? Tch. Bakugou snarled at the thought of this wimp being able to beat, well, anyone. The guy was slender and looked like he had almost no muscle or body fat. But he had to have a good quirk if he had taken out a handful of people already, so Bakugou regarded him with careful contempt. The explosions in his palms stopped as he fell from the third story of the building he’d been perched on, hurtling toward the ground.

“Hey asshole,” Bakugou yelled as his boots touched the pavement of the sidewalk. He stretched his palms in a wicked manner, cracking his neck in a swift motion.

The villain turned, a look of disgruntled annoyance simmering to the surface of his face. A malicious smile overtook his thin lips, and a glint in his eye made Bakugou growl. The man faced him directly now, and the terrified pedestrian he had been toying with sobbed as they ran towards the safety of the crowd gathering a respectable distance away. Bakugou grimaced as he noticed the limp body of his sidekick, sat up against one of the storefront’s flower barrels with closed eyes and a pained expression. From just a glance, he could tell they were alive… but they probably didn’t feel too great.

“Ground Zero,” the spindly man smiled, but to Bakugou it looked more like he was baring his teeth like a rabid dog. “How nice of you to grace me with your presence! I didn’t know little old me could pull in a top hero.”

Bakugou barked a short laugh. “You only got me ‘cause of sheer luck, dumbass. I have no clue who you think you are, but you’re about to be very well acquainted,” he paused, rolling his right wrist for dramatic effect,” with my fists.” 

He expected a range of reactions from the villain. He had been doing this pro-hero gig for awhile now, so he’d learned the ropes-- and this guy didn’t seem like the type to have an ass-whooping quirk, so he could most likely afford to physically attack.

“Now that is an interesting game plan, Bakugou,” the villain stated, voice dripping with rancor. His words shocked Bakugou for a moment, and just as a thought formed in his mind, the slender man vocalized it. “Oh shit, this fucker can read me like a book,” the man paused, an amused smile on his face,” wow, you have quite a way with words.”

“Tch. I don’t care if you’re in my head asswipe, ‘cause your skull is about to be crushed into the ground,” Bakugou replied, foot planting behind himself and getting ready to pounce.

“Hmm, are you sure? Will you treat me roughly?” the man continues seamlessly, making Bakugou’s eyes widen in confusion. Treat him rough? Who the hell does this guy think he is? Was he hitting on him? The villain’s smile only broadened, the sneer on his mouth flushing Bakugou’s stomach with dread. “At least, as rough as your girlfriend likes it?”

Bakugou’s mouth dried at his words, body stuttering as he processed the them. Why the fuck was this freak talking about Y/N?

“Y/N, yes-- what an extravagant creature. I wouldn’t have pegged her as someone who likes to be choked. Are you sure you can handle fighting me? It seems like you had an exhausting night, and rest is important for the body.”

Bakugou’s breath is stolen out of his lungs, his wide eyes turning into furious crescents at the villain’s words. That was private! The villain’s words automatically triggered his memory, even if he was trying his best to push the image away. You, underneath him last night, shaking and whimpering and making that irresistible expression as he fucked you raw. A light blush bloomed on his cheeks at the recollection, but he shoved it away as fast as he could. His eyes met the villain’s again, but this time, the shadowy figure’s features had morphed into a terrifying grin, eyes bulging out of his skull with disgusting delight.

“Oh, thank you so much for sharing that with me. Maybe I’ll try out choking her myself!” he laughed, voice oozing with excitement as he wrung his hands together.

Bakugou snapped out of his surprised state, shaking his head and clenching his eyes shut. He just had to wreck his loser and then he could go home to you.

Nothing could prepare him for what happened next. He looked back up at the villain, and his stomach plummeted fifty meters into the concrete below him as he registered the horrific scene.

The villain was standing in the exact same spot, but he had his arms wrapped around your throat. You were trapped in his hold, big desperate eyes full of tears that slid down your cheeks and fingers clawing futilely at his hold. You were wearing that maroon lingerie from last anniversary that drove Bakugou wild, your hair clinging to your wet chin as you sobbed. The noise was enough to make Bakugou’s knees shake, his heart felt like it had leapt into his throat.

“S-Suki,” you whimpered, slicing his heart into two.

Bakugou’s lips trembled at your cry, his hands clenching into fists at his side. His voice was much softer now, and he was surprised to find it didn’t break,” Let her go.” His feet planted square, he stared down the villain with a burning determination, steam practically pouring out of his nostrils.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” the man chided, one hand leaving your delicate throat and sliding down your chest. Bakugou’s fingernails broke into the flesh of his palms as the villain’s hand ran over your breast, lingering there as he gauged Bakugou’s reaction. The choked sob that came from you made Bakugou see red.

Bakugou stepped forward but immediately regretted it as the villain’s hand on your throat turned white. He watched in horror as you sputtered, face turning pink at the exertion of wriggling in his hold, grasping at his hand to no avail. “Stop! Please!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in front of him and taking a step back.

“Ground Zero!” Bakugou’s eyes hesitantly left your figure for a moment, trying to find the source of the shout. It sounded like someone was calling him, but from somewhere far away… or like he was underwater. He looked around, realizing the crowd of onlookers had vanished, and the unconscious body of his sidekick was gone as well. Actually, you three were the only people on the busy Japan street.

Just like that, the gears click into place. Looking back at the villain, his rage bubbling inside, he snarled and pushed his body off the pavement, explosions dancing on his palms to seal the gap swiftly.

The villain looked irritated at being found out, but that didn’t stop him from snapping your neck. Bakugou tried not to look at you, but the thought that you had been real just a moment ago made his chest tight as your gaze glazed over and your body slumped to the ground. He screamed as he drew back his fist, concentrating his power on his hand just as it connected with the spindly man’s jaw. His head flew backwards, a sick crack sounding as his body was flung into the air behind him.

Bakugou landed on his feet, and braced himself for a second as he closed his eyes. Not real, not real, she is not real. Opening his eyes, he looked at the spot your crumpled body should have been, only to find that it was empty. He breathed out a sigh of relief, attention sliding back to the unconscious villain in the middle of the road. He ignored the cheers erupting from the crowd behind him, feet moving on their own accord toward the villain’s figure to finish the job.

It was hell waiting to get back to you. Bakugou had to wait for the police to show up and take the loser off his hands, then he had to pretend he was fine and sign a thousand autographs, and then to top it all off, he had to take his damn sidekick back to the agency across town. The suspense was killing him. Even if he knew that it was stupid… a small, okay-- maybe large-- part of him needed you in his arms, and to know you were truly alright.

After he was done with the agency, he nearly ran all the way home. Using his quirk to shoot himself through the starry cityscape, the wind rushing through his hair, his chest still felt just as tight as it did earlier. It seemed like an eternity had passed as he finally planted his feet on the sidewalk, hand grabbing the main entrance door and nearly ripping it off its hinges. The security guard barely had time to recognize him and buzz him in, and he sure as hell didn’t bother with a “good evening”. He beelined past the elevator, instead opting to dart into the stairwell and propel himself up to the sixteenth floor with his quirk.

His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough, and he dashed through the hallway with urgency. His eyes finally landing on the door, he prayed it was unlocked because he really did not want to blast through the lock but damn it, he might just have to. He nearly cried as he jiggled the door handle, confirming his fear. His palm on the metal handle, he closed his eyes and wondered if you would kill him for blasting through another locksmith’s fine work.

But then the handle turned ninety degrees, and the door cracked open to reveal your bare face, hair looking frazzled as you blinked at him.

“Suki!” your plump lips split into a joyous grin and Bakugou’s soul almost left his body in sheer relief. You pulled him into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and wrapping your soft arms around his torso. “I was so worried about you! I saw the end of your fight on the news, are you okay?”

Bakugou couldn’t say any words, his throat felt thick and his eyes stung as he crushed you into his chest. His head hanging down to sniff your precious head, his lungs rattled as he tried not to burst into tears. You fit so perfectly in his arms, he couldn’t help but thank the universe that you’re safe, and you’re here, holding onto him tightly as he barely kept it together.

You frowned at his silence, but you decided to comfort him anyway because he seemed like he really needed it. Your fingers brushed along his spine as he clutched onto you, gathering his emotions. You weren’t used to seeing him so choked up, but you knew there must be some reason as to why he’s so silent. “It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, making a small sigh fall from his lips.

He finally looked you in the eye, and your stomach fluttered with butterflies at his expression. “I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled, warm hands taking your face and pressing your lips to his. You hummed happily against his mouth, hands lacing behind his neck in compliance. He pulled away, one last shred of doubt left to address. “Are you okay?” he inquired quietly, almost bashfully. His gaze was directed to the collar of your shit that his thumb was playing with, and you took his jaw in your hands to make him look at you.

His scarlet eyes looked so concerned and scared, your heart ached for him. “Of course I’m okay Katsuki,” you answered, looking at him deeply,” I have you to protect me!” A small smile adorned your lips as your nails scratch gently at his scalp. “Are you okay, my love?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up adorably as he tried to put on his brave face for you. “I’m okay,” he whispered, eyes closing as his lips touched your forehead gently,” as long as you’re safe.”

    ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

masterlist (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

please stop by and say hi!! i’d love any feedback <3 thanks for reading!!

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Mistletoe- Robb Stark (1)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader

Characters: Robb Stark

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- Robb Stark: both hate each other. Arya plans to make them kiss under the misteltoe which actually owrks. At the end of night they each other the feelings they have for each other

Word Count: 836

Author: Charlotte

Your father was a nobleman in the North and had a close friendship with Lord Eddard himself, meaning you spent a lot of time around his children. You were a year junior to the eldest Stark child but even though you were close in age to Robb, you were far from friends. Even from a young age you did your best to compete at everything with each other and cause trouble for the other and it only grew as Jon and Theon got involved and you felt like you needed to show the heir to the Winterfell throne his place in the world.

It felt like you needed to make yourself seem better than him and you were willing to do everything in your power to push him down a notch. No matter how hard you tried to hurt him, you only managed to hurt yourself more especially when you had to fight the thoughts of actually liking the person you had made an enemy out of. You would never admit that you liked Robb, you struggled to even deem him as a friend in public and maybe that was why you had to try to overtly fight anything he stood for.

For one of the rare occasions, you had experienced a physical fight. You were used to watching Robb, Theon and Jon spar in the courtyard whilst you were regularly pushed to the side but every once in a while, you got a chance to train with them. As a woman you weren’t expected to learn to fight, and they certainly didn’t support you fighting with them when you usually beat them.

Even though the winter festival was only in a couple of days, you four cared far more to practice fighting than consider the traditions that were needed to be followed in the following days. You cared little for the bitter Northern winter, focusing only on fighting the best you could and proving yourself. You sparred with Robb whilst the other two partnered up. It didn’t take you long to knock Robb off of his feet and it only inflated your ego when it came to fighting, little did you know that it was because he was distracted by his interest in you.

“I let you win,” Robb stated as the two of you headed over to return the swords to where they belonged so that they didn’t end up damaged or hurting someone they were not meant to.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stark,” you frowned. “You know that I kicked your arse fair and square.”

“I am a far better fighter than any of you, especially you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re just bitter that you were beat by a girl.”

You hung your sword up with a loud clang as you turned back to glare at him and take a step closer, so there was barely room between the two of you. Your jaw was firmly clenched as your nostrils flared letting out your visible breath in the cold. The cold around you failed to get through your coats although it wasn’t needed due to the heat of anger building within you.

The two of you stared at each other, the gap between you barely enough for the thick fur coats your both wore to sit. Your attention of the other didn’t falter until you noticed the laughter coming from behind you. You both peered over to see Theon and Jon laughing, trying their best to keep it contained but that was clearly not successful.

“What?” Robb frowned at his brother and friend.

Theon pointed to above your heads, forcing you both to look up. Your stomach sunk as you saw the sprig of leaves above you. You knew that there was mistletoe hung all around Winterfell but you didn’t realise that you had both ended up stood beneath some.

“No way,” you stated even though deep down you would have been quite glad to have been forced into this situation.

“You’ve got to,” Jon smirked as a few other people from the courtyard stopped to watch what was going on.

The two of you tried to continue to argue but Theon and Jon started a chant that quickly built steam with the others in the courtyard leaving you both fuming and realising no matter what you wanted to do, the mistletoe had sealed your fate.

You turned back to Robb whose cheeks were now flushed and her looked far more nervous than angry, which you were sure was similar to how you were looking too. Not wanting to step down in front of others, Robb moved to place a palm to your cheek, pulling you closer as he leaned in.

As you got close enough that your lips almost touched her whispered to you. “I’m sorry.”

Your lips connected sending a spark deep within you, letting you know that you were never going to be able to turn back, not just because many people had seen the kiss.

[serendipityunho]

Body Party

× genre: smut, college au × pairing: fratboy!Wooyoung x Reader (fem.) × word count: 3.4k × warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, body shots, grinding, fingering, oral, clit play, explicit sex

× synopsis: The party was supposed to introduce you to new people. It certainly lived to its purpose when a cute frat boy introduced you to the world of body shots that lead you to have one of the best nights you’ve had. 

☁️: fratboy!wooyoung is someone i would genuinely become best friends with. and i made him a little cheesy at the end because why not lol

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bottles of soju laid on the counter, waiting for someone to come and drown it down as pink and green bottle caps sprawled across the kitchen floor, making it difficult to slither through to the drinks without stepping on them. 

There were only a few people chilling in the kitchen, red solo cups in their hands as they chitter away with their acquaintances. You stumble towards the unopened bottles of soju before pouring yourself a shot to relieve you of your worn-out limbs. 

Tilting your head, you down the harsh liquid before slamming the shot glass back on to the counter, scrunching your face bitterly as the soju travels down your throat.

“What are you doing drinking all alone?” A husky voice shoots up from behind you, making you spin your body around to quite an eye-candy. 

“What’s wrong with solo drinking?” You ask, leaning back against the counter. 

"Nothing at all, mind if I join you?” He steps closer, surprisingly close to your body as he snakes an arm around you to grab the bottle behind you on the counter before you could answer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before” He takes shot of his drink, eyes glued onto yours as his body remained close to yours.

“It’s a rush party after all” You tilt your head to the side, taking your time to observe his little features.

“Fair enough. I’m Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung” You could hear the slight tease in his husky voice as he settles the bottle back behind you, making your nose brush against his chest, smelling the strong cologne.

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N” Wooyoung’s lips twitch into a small smile as he tilts his head to the side.

“Y/N. That’s pretty. Come.” Wooyoung slithers his fingers with yours as he gently pulls you out of the kitchen. Despite only finding out his name less than two minutes ago, you oblige, following closely as he leads you outside.

Fresh air instantly hits your nostrils as you scan the scene, insanely enough, there was a couch outside. 

“Wanna join me?” Wooyoung points to a table of liquor surrounded by wedges of lime and... salt?

“You asked to join me just five minutes ago and now you want me to join you?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, fingers laced with a stranger you had just met as they drag you all over the party.

“That’s what makes it fun” Wooyoung’s hand stays connected with yours as the two of you approach the table, alerting the few people around it.

“Wooyoung! Nice of you to come back” A red-haired acquaintance greets Wooyoung, raising his hand as the two greet each other in a bro-hug.

“Hongjoong, your face looks like your hair” It certainly did, his cheeks flushed a bright pinkish-red as his eyes drooped, blinking rapidly from time-to-time.

“Hey, don’t diss the Asian flush” Hongjoong waves his finger in Wooyoung’s face, making him chuckle as he brushes past Hongjoong to the liquor.

“And who are youuuu?” You feel Hongjoong’s weight on your shoulders as he clings on to you, probably not realizing how he was slightly pulling you down.

“Y/N” 

“Ahhh nice to meet you, you’ve come to join us for body shots!” 

Your brows rise at the sudden plan, that would explain the lime and salt on the table. You look back at Wooyoung with a brow raised, he simply smirked while ushering you to come closer. 

“You’ve done this before?” You shake your head as Wooyoung signals to the other end of the table. 

A girl laid on her back with a lime wedged in her mouth, shirt scrunched above her chest with salt patched in between her breasts as tequila pools on her stomach.

“Watch” Wooyoung moves aside, pulling you to the front by your waist to let you get a better view of the action. 

His thumbs brush back and forth along the exposed skin between the hem of your pants and your top. You didn’t pay much attention to him as the daring sight captivated you. 

Hongjoong leans down to the girl’s stomach, tongue trailing from below her belly-button before letting his lips attack onto her skin, sucking up the tequila before swiftly positioning his face between her breasts, flattening his tongue against her skin as he licks up the salt. 

Whistles and praises travel through the crowd as Hongjoong’s lips twitch into a smirk, brushing his lips against the girl’s skin before catching the lime between his lips, face scrunching bitterly before spitting it out. 

“You wanna try?” Wooyoung whispers into your ear. 

Chills run down your spine as the hair on your arms stood up, Wooyoung’s husky teasing voice made you weaker by the second as he kept his hands resting on your waist.

“Yes...” The shriveling idea of body shots made you bubble inside, it was quite the excitement having someone drink from your skin. 

“Lay down” Wooyoung guided you to the table where Hongjoong and his girl disappear to god know’s where.

You shift on the table, comforting yourself as your breathing quickened, watching Wooyoung staring down upon you, lifting your shirt just above your breasts. 

You could feel the deep stares burning at your body as another girl makes her way up to you with a wedge of lime, positioning it between your lips as she hovers the bottle of tequila over your stomach before letting the liquid drip out of its nozzle. 

She sprinkles salt just above the spot between your breasts, you could feel Wooyoung’s hand resting above your thigh as he watches the tequila trickle along the skin of your stomach. Your eyes travel to Wooyoung, taking the girl’s place as she places down the salt. Your heart pumped loudly as Wooyoung lowers his face to your stomach.

His hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, the hairs along your neck standing as Wooyoung’s lips graze over your skin, subtly leaving pecks below your belly-button before letting his lips lock onto the skin, drinking the liquor.

Wooyoung breathes against your skin as his nose brushes along your skin to your breasts, watching you with hooded eyes from below as his tongue makes an appearance. 

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat as you watch Wooyoung lick up the patch of salt from between your breasts, squirming slightly as your body grew sensitive to his touch. 

Wooyoung’s face closens to yours, letting his lips graze over yours, catching the lime in his mouth. You can feel the lime juice trickle down to your lips as Wooyoung bites down on it. Wooyoung’s hand lays on your side before pulling your shirt back down, brushing his fingertips over your breasts, making you twitch slightly. 

Wooyoung removes the lime from your lips as he snakes his hand under your neck, lifting you up from the table as you sit up, swinging your legs to the side with Wooyoung between them.

“How was that?” Wooyoung smiles, hands caressing the skin on your waist, making your breathing quicken as his face was still close to yours.

“That was... hot” You let your hands grip his shoulders as he helps you off the table, leading you away from the crowd of people as alcohol thirsty goers take your place.

“Yeah?” The gap between the two of you made your mind go into a frenzy.

“Yeah...” Your chest was pressed against Wooyoung’s, his hand still gripped on your waist as your lips graze over each other.

Your heart was pumping rapidly, you could smell the harsh liquor from his hot breath as you finally press your lips against his. Wooyoung pulls your waist closer to his body, pressing his lips harder against yours, molding them perfectly with yours. 

You couldn’t care less about the bystanders, most probably too drunk to even remember the next morning. You didn’t realize how far your feet took you away from the crowd of people until your back was pressed against the wall, making you break from the kiss in surprise.

The two of you were isolated from the crowd, covered by the dark as party-goers fixed around the liquor table, hyping themselves up. 

“I’m pretty sure there are spiders here” Wooyoung speaks up, pulling you away from the wall as you suddenly cling onto his body tighter. 

“Let’s take this elsewhere then” You smirk, grabbing his hand to drag him back inside the house. The two of you disappear under the dark, navigating your way to the bottom of the steps before descending up, giving Wooyoung quite a view from below. 

There was only one unlocked room upstairs, others occupied with horny students moaning through the thick walls. You lead Wooyoung inside before locking the door as his hands make their way back onto your waist. Your body spins around to be pinned against the door and lips attacked by Wooyoung’s, still tasting the lingering bitterness of the alcohol mixed with lime. 

You moan into the kiss, tilting your head to the side as your hands run through Wooyoung’s silky black locks, pushing your body against his as you feel his hands travel down to your ass, squeezing it before cupping the back of your thigh.

“Jump” Wooyoung squeezes your thighs before catching you in his arms, leading the two of you towards the bed. 

Wooyoung rests against the headboard as you straddle his lap, hands cupping your ass as he slowly pushes you back and forth. A low groan rips from the back of his throat, as he nips your bottom lip, slipping his tongue between your lips. Your hips rock back and forth against his crotch, feeling the tent in his pants grow bigger as wetness pools in your panties. 

“Fuck” Wooyoung moans, squeezing your ass harder as you rock your hips harder, moaning at the friction against your clothed pussy while his hands knead your ass cheeks in circles, slightly stretching your hole.

You suck on Wooyoung’s bottom lip before trailing your lips along his jaw, gently kissing on the skin before sucking on his neck, earning a low husky groan drip from his lips. 

Wooyoung tugs on the hem of your shirt before pulling it above your head, hand instantly playing with your bra strap as he pinches the back, unclasping the hooks, letting your bra fall between your bodies. 

You scrunch Wooyoung’s shirt in your hands before lifting it above his head, exposing his tanned chest. Wooyoung’s hands travel up your sides before kneading your breasts with both hands, bringing his face closer to your hardened nipple.

Wooyoung holds your side, pushing you closer, making you hug his head to your chest, fingers tangling with his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple before engulfing as much of your breast as he can in his mouth.

Your head rolls back as Wooyoung flattens his tongue against your nipple, rubbing it side to side before he peppers kisses along your collarbone to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.

You cup Wooyoung’s face in the palm of your hands, tilting his head up before letting your tongue play with his, lowering your lips to his chest as you trail wet kisses from his chest to his stomach.

Wooyoung slicks his hair back before running his hands through yours, caressing your cheek as you fumble his belt off, sliding off his jeans to see the bulge covered by his boxers. 

You palm his clothed boner, playing with the waistband of his boxers before sliding them off, letting his hard cock spring free. 

Your lips twitch into a small smirk as you look up at Wooyoung with desperation in your eyes before letting your lips wrap around his girthy length, watching his head roll back as he releases a husky moan that drove you crazy.

Wooyoung scrunches your hair in a makeshift ponytail, watching the way you bop your head up and down his length.

“Fuck, you look so good” Wooyoung grunts through gritted teeth, gently pushing your head further down his cock.

You hum in response, vibrations making Wooyoung’s thighs twitch as he lets out a breathy moan. Your lips suck on his tip, bringing your hand to his cock, twisting it as you bop your head up and down.

Wooyoung suddenly bucks his hips, making his dick slide down further than intended, causing you to gag slightly. Wooyoung sits up, letting his arm support him as the other sweeps the hair out of your face.

Your lips detach from Wooyoung’s cock as you crawl on your knees, bringing your face up to his, feeling the muscles on his shoulder as Wooyoung lets his fingers rub at your clothed clit.  

“Oh my god...” You moan against his lips as his fingers slowly rub at your clit hard.

“You sound pretty too. I can’t imagine how pretty you’d sound with my cock in you” You could hear the tease in his husky voice, making your legs tremble as you feel your wetness soaking Wooyoung’s fingers through the fabric of your shorts.

“Why don’t you find out?” You breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly as Wooyoung delivered sparks to your nerves in your clit. 

“Don’t mind if I do” Wooyoung pushes your body back against the mattress as he crawls over you, planting a wet kiss on your lips before trailing his kisses down to your stomach, sliding off your shorts before kissing your inner thigh, eyeing your wet pussy.

“So fucken wet” Wooyoung rubs your clit with his thumb, blowing hot air against your pussy, making your hips twitch up as you suck a breathy gasp. 

Wooyoung kisses your clit before letting his tongue flatten against your pussy, slowly sliding it up and down your slit before pushing it into your hole, still rubbing your clit with his thumb. 

“Fuck, Wooyoung...” Your head rolls back, fingers tangling with his hair as you subconsciously push him against your pussy. 

Wooyoung removes his thumb from your clit, replacing it with his mouth as he sucks on your clit, tongue twirling it around as his head sways side to side. 

Another breathy moan drips from your parted lips as Wooyoung’s fingers edge around your hole before sliding one in, pumping it in and out of your aching pussy before slowly adding another digit. 

Wooyoung watches you from below, sucking hungrily at your clit as his fingers stretch you out for his dick. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he watches you with hungry eyes, making your hips twitch. 

Wooyoung removes his fingers from your hole, hooking his arms under your thighs to pull you closer against his mouth. Wooyoung groans loudly against your clit, sucking on it hungrily as he watches you squirm under his hold. 

“Oh god- fuck, Wooyoung” Your body lurches forward, practically sitting up as Wooyoung eats out your pussy harshly. 

Wooyoung removes his mouth from your pussy, standing on his knees as his body twists towards the nightstand.

“Just our luck” Wooyoung holds up a condom package before ripping the top with his teeth.

“Do all college houses have spare condoms in the drawers?” You ask, stretching your arms above your head as your back arches, making Wooyoung bite down on his lip. 

“I’d have to ask my friends that” Wooyoung rolls the condom on his cock, spreading your legs apart as he shuffles closer to your pussy.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat as you feel the tip of Wooyoung’s cock inching at your entrance before sliding his entire length in your hole, letting out a shaky groan as he watches his dick disappear between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so- ngggh” Wooyoung dips his head down to your neck, letting his forearms support his body as he slides his cock back and forth, making you tightly grip his shoulders in response. 

Wooyoung’s strokes start off slow, moaning into your ear as his hot breath sends chills down your spine. You could feel his flexed muscles in his underbody as he quickens his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back as Wooyoung plants sloppy kisses from your neck to your breasts, flicking your nipple with his tongue before sucking on it. 

Wooyoung removes his lips from your breasts before sitting on his ankles, lifting your hips with his as your ass hovers over the mattress, his hands tightly grip your waist before suddenly snapping his hips against yours.

Your pussy gushes around Wooyoung’s cock as he sends your breasts bouncing back and forth, making you grab them as your face scrunches in pleasure. 

Wooyoung grunts through gritted teeth as his skin slaps against yours, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt as broken high-pitched moans leave your mouth. 

“Wooyoung- fuck!” Your brows furrow, mouth gaping as Wooyoung takes one of his hands off your side, letting his thumb rub at your throbbing clit again while he knocks the air out of your lungs with each hard thrust. 

You were panting like crazy, feeling the sweat build up on your forehead as Wooyoung’s cock stretched you out, making your head feel lighter as your mind was sent elsewhere. 

Broken moans leave your mouth, hands brushing back your hair as they stretch above your head, making Wooyoung drop your hips back onto the mattress before dipping back down, holding your wrists together as he fucks your hips into the mattress.

“You take me so well- ohgod” Wooyoung praises into your ear, kissing the spot behind your ear as you try to wrap your arms around his neck only to have your wrists heavily pressed against the sheets by Wooyoung’s hands. 

Wooyoung quickens his thrusts, his girthy length stretching you out so good as his cock hits your spot repeatedly, making your breaths stagger with loud moans. 

“Fuckfuckfuck- Wooyoung, I’m gonnannnaggh” You suck in a deep breath as Wooyoung hooks his cock into you, making you clench your walls around him as he fucks your cunt. 

“You sound so fucken hotnnngh shit” Wooyoung kneads your breasts with his hands, letting your wrists catch a break from his tight grip before bringing your hands up to his shoulders, squeezing at his muscles as he pounds into your gushing pussy. 

“I’m so close- fuck rightthererightthere” Your head rolls back as your chest presses against his, letting your hips buckle up, fucking his cock with him.

Wooyoung pants in your ear, making his hips work as you feel beads of sweat dripping from his strands of loose hair. His hips snap against yours relentlessly, slapping at your inner thigh as you feel it stinging with thrust. 

Your vision blurred as your mouth gaped wide open, a body-jerking orgasm rips through your body from the pit of your stomach as Wooyoung’s cock brushes your spot with his dick, sending your mind blank as your head throbbed in pleasure. 

“Nnnnnghhaa fuck! Ohgodohgodohgod” Your legs spaz uncontrollably as Wooyoung’s thrusts grow sloppier, burying his cock deeper as he chases his own high. 

“Yesyesyesyes- fuck!” A low grunt emits from the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he fucks your hips into the mattress, supporting his weight on his forearms as you feel a warm spurt in your pussy. 

Wooyoung slows down his thrusts, carefully sliding out as he caresses your thigh. The tip of his dick brushes slightly against your pussy, making your legs twitch from the sensitivity.

“How you feel?” Wooyoung snakes an arm under your back, lifting you up with him as you wobble on both legs, clutching onto his shoulders for support.

“I-” 

“Party’s over, guys! Everybody leave!” You were interrupted by the sudden commotion on the other side of the door. 

“I guess I’ll see you around campus?” Wooyoung picks up the scattered clothes on the floor, handing you back yours as he discards the condom in the nearby trash. 

“Maybe” You clasp your bra over your breasts as your shirt slip over your head shortly after, followed by your bottoms. 

You roughly comb through your shriveled hair with your fingers as you watch Wooyoung dress himself. 

“Wait-” Just before you were about to twist the knob, Wooyoung grabs your wrist.

“- I lost my phone, do you mind if I call it?” A sleepish smile paints across his face, tilting his head to the side as if he was a desperate puppy.

“You know, you could just ask for my number like a normal person” You chuckle, pointing to Wooyoung’s phone fixed on the ground, smirking at his flushed cheeks.

“Yeah but that would’ve been basic”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I wouldn’t have heard your laugh”

“Oh my god, this guy”

_

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho All Rights Reserved

[fist-and-fury-xiv]

What Would You Like Me to Say?

The following story contains some mentions of blood, gore, and harsh language.

When Emelyn rises, the others are gone.

It’s been perhaps thirty minutes by Otolin’s somewhat educated guess. He uses the shafts of moonlight peeking through the holes of the dilapidated ceiling above, noting how they strike the tiled floor. The colors beneath them of slate gray and purple shift and change into different shades while he waits. 

If someone had just happened upon them and didn’t come closer, it would be difficult to tell that quite a battle had just occurred. 

Her rest had looked peaceful, if not for the pool of blood that rested below her face. Oh, how it soaks the stone, seeping through the old and weathered cracks and crevasses. But her face, as she pushes herself up with a shaky shudder, doesn’t look so peaceful between her bloodshot eyes and her nose, which looks askew. 

Off-kilter. Broken, courtesy of the broadside of Breandan’s lance. 

“You…” She breathes, a nasally sound that only contrasts her usually gravelly tone. 

“You’ve lost a fair amount of blood…” Otolin cautions, still standing above her. 

“And why does that fucking matter? I’ll live,” Emelyn snaps back at her son, looking up to him. She’s on her knees now and has to duck her head, eyes slamming shut. It may be because of a concussion, or perhaps it’s just an acceptance of the harsh new reality. That, or Silvestre had knocked her off her feet more than once with precise lance strikes. 

No, no.

She’s lost. 

When her eyes open again, the glare is obstinate and stubborn. Emelyn lifts her head up to Otolin. “And where are your friends?”

“They’re gone. They didn’t need to see this,” he answers with a little sigh. “Give me your hand.”

“Fuck you.”

A classic response, but Otolin’s hand is outstretched still. After a few beats, Emelyn reluctantly offers her left hand over. An arrow is still lodged through the center of her palm, courtesy of Severine. Her shots over the course of the battle had struck true. 

“I’m going to-” Otolin begins to say. 

“Just pull the damn thing out,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “You and I don’t need-”

It’s pulled out in a smooth motion without much warning from there, and even more blood just spills onto the tiles below, shifting and shimmering in the moonlight. Emelyn doesn’t even react, still glaring, except for the little wince that springs forward and then out of existence upon her scarred lips. 

“You let your friends do the fighting for you,” she intones after a few beats. 

“There was a sentiment of wanting to… to kill you,” Otolin responds, tossing the arrow aside with some bit of abandon. 

“Little do they know-” Emelyn tries to say with a biting tone.

“They know,” he cuts her off now, brows furrowing. “And they have their… thoughts. Their feelings. Their sympathy. Their-”

“The Viera…” Emelyn says with a small smile. “She isn’t happy with it, is she?”

Otolin shakes his head in response. “No. She… she has history with the Garleans much like you and I do. To hear that I-”

“You were their puppet.”

An accusation that isn’t wrong, and is perhaps designed to draw a reaction from Otolin.

But he just stares, brows furrowed, head tilted. The same look as always. 

Emelyn just rolls her eyes in response, looking away, as Otolin reaches for the arrow lodged in her shoulder and pulls it out with a swift motion. Another strike by Severine that had found its target. 

“I was,” he admits quietly with a nod, tossing that arrow aside. “Unknowingly. I-”

“That’s not an excuse,” Emelyn spats, her nostrils flaring as best as they can; her anger is rising again. “You… you continue to say that…”

“Then what would you like me to say?” Otolin asks of her in that calm tone. 

She’s furious again. Slowly and shakily, Emelyn rises to her feet, trying to regain her faculties, trying to make sense of things. The room shakes and shifts before her, but she stabilizes, counting under her breath like her masters taught so long ago.  

Blood streams from her shoulder, and also from between her closed fist, nails streaked. She turns away from her son, looking to the statues around the room. Something begins to build, a sense of the impending storm, but then…

Otolin reaches out and grasps her wrist. 

He just stands there, looking at her, brows furrowed still. That calm expression is etched on his features. “What would you like me to say?” 

Emelyn turns to look at Otolin. She doesn’t tug at the hand on her wrist, doesn’t move much other than her head craning to meet her son. 

“Nothing.”

A small pause.

“I want you to say nothing.”

Then she turns, gathering whatever last bits of aether she can muster, and brings her free hand around in a strike centered right on Otolin’s chest. It’s fast enough that he can’t dodge it, can’t block, can’t use that damned ability of his to stop it.

Her palm connects with his sternum, and then twists at the wrist, before… settling there. Waiting. Watching. 

Emelyn smiles. 

She may have lost the war, but she wins this-

Then she looks to her son’s face and sees nothing.

No. 

That same stare. Those furrowed brows. The tilted head. 

No. No. No.

“I… I-I-I…” She stammers, letting her hand drop from his chest and wrenching her wrist away from Otolin’s grasp. A step back, and then another. Her head shakes back and forth, fingers dripping with her own blood still. “That should’ve… THAT SHOULD’VE-”

“It didn’t.” 

Otolin looks down to his chest, and then back up to Emelyn. His lips twist in a deeper frown, and his head shakes. 

“I’ve given you… you every opportunity to leave. To live. And you continue to… to try and defy that. You’re hunting… hunting a monster that isn’t here anymore. Your life is so centered around destruction of some sort that… my end is the thing that fills… fills your void. You’ll… you’ll move… on to the next thing after me, until there is nothing left. You’ve forgotten that life… life is as much a part of His cycle as anything else is.”

He takes a step forward finally, and that seems to freeze the woman in her tracks, continuing to speak. The words aren’t rehearsed, even if they sound like they are.

“You…”

“Stay away from me. Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Honor our deal.”

“I’ll… I’ll honor it.”

“You’re going… going to walk into that desert. You won’t go back to the commune. They no longer have need of your guidance. Others will take up the mantle, younger people who see… see a better world ahead of them unlike you.” 

He closes the gap. 

Emelyn hasn’t moved still. If anything, there’s still a bit of defiance in her stance, eyes pointed upward to Otolin. She bares her teeth, wincing under the pain of her broken features. 

When Otolin speaks next, it’s with a deathly whisper.

“So… what would you like me to say?”

And when Emelyn speaks?

She doesn’t hear the words that leave her lips. 

Just feels them.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

Otolin stares, leaning back for a moment, and then there’s a split second where perhaps a fury might take over his features, but-

No.

The same blank stare, the tilt of the head, those furrowed brows.

Then he leans in.

“You first.”

@severine-savage​ @geimhleag​ @witchesandlotuses​ @loadedmemory​

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 23

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Brilliant sunshine streams through the windows, tearing her from a peaceful and much needed sleep. Despite the years of living like a nomad while travelling from job to job, the past five of being a wife and mother content in her own home have spoiled her; it had been extremely difficult falling asleep in a strange bed. Even with the that warm and solid body beside her, the familiarity of his smell, the smoothness of his skin, the sound of his breathing.  The mattress was foreign, feeling strange and uncomfortable underneath her, despite the obviously high quality. She missed the way the one at home moved and dipped underneath her; those little grooves long ago made by their bodies, the pop and the squeak of the springs, the clean and refreshing scent that lingered on the fabric.  The room had seemed eerily quiet, even with Tyler’s soft snoring and the way he mumbles in his sleep.  She is used to the sounds that come with living in an old house tucked away from the rest of civilization; the owls that hooted, the bats that screeched and called to each other, the settling of old pipes, the dog’s tag clinking against his collar as he switches positions at the foot of the bed.

And most of all, the sounds of children; the little voices waking her up in the middle of the night as they climbed into bed between her and Tyler,  the baby fussing in the room across the hall,  the crying and the complaining when they’ve had nightmares or aren’t feeling well. For five years that’s been her life; tending to the needs of others. Her ‘mommy senses’ far keener than those she’d ever developed on the job. The ability to snap awake at the even the creaking of a loose floorboard or a car speeding by more than a thousand miles away. Perhaps it was the job that had caused her mother instincts to be so sharp; she’d already been used to being on high alert.

Eyes still closed; she blindly reaches for him; fingers coming in contact with cool, empty sheets instead of warm, hard body. Frowning, she pushes herself up onto one elbow, using her other hand to push her hair away from her face and clear sleep from her eyes. The sliding glass door is open several inches; a crisp, refreshing breeze tumbling into the room, the rain from the night before leaving behind cooler temperatures.  And she reaches across the bed for the night table on her side of the bed, pulling her cell phone from the charging cord and checking the time.

8:47.

She pushes herself up into a sit; still groggy  from lack of sleep, shoulders and back aching from trying to get used to an unfamiliar mattress. And she leans over the side of the bed and reaches for the t-shirt that had been discarded in the early hours of the morning. When the sun had just been peeking over the horizon and Tyler had stirred beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his front against her back, that impressive morning erection pressing against her backside. It was one thing about being away from the kids; you could make as much noise as you wanted, take your time, no worries of interruptions or having to make sure you’re at least partially clothed before falling asleep so you weren’t caught naked and unaware by the little humans that would come bounding into the room the moment they woke.

“Tyler?” she calls into the room, as she shrugs into the t-shirt. Listening for any signs of his whereabouts. Out on the balcony drinking coffee and getting fresh air. Or even getting in a ‘do it yourself, no equipment’ workout. She listens for the shower or any other movement coming from the bathroom; the door slightly open, the sunlight tumbling through the window above the tub and its rays cast across the bedroom floor. “Tyler?” she tries one more time, voice louder, then with a groan climbs off the bed

“Men,” she huffs, she heads for the bathroom. They lay out the ‘don’t go anywhere on your own’ rules but never want to follow them themselves. It is typical of him; protective and almost possessive. To a fault.

She’s just returned to the bedroom area and rummages through her bags for something to wear when she hears it; harsh whispers coming from the hall.  She can see the movement of two distinct sets of feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, the slight shadows that are cast on the wall as figures move in front of the seam.  Her hands freeze on the zipper of the backpack and she strains her ears to listen. One very obvious Irish accent, male. The second voice belongs to a woman; husky in nature, a subtle yet noticeable New York twang that Esme is able to pinpoint as Brooklyn.  She’d spent eighteen months in the Big Apple; hopping back and forth between Brooklyn and the Bronx. Successful infiltrations of well known and very powerful families. Old money. Organized crime connections.  The mature faces on the drug and weapons smuggling scenes.

She waits for them to knock; watching those shuffling footsteps from underneath the door, unable to make out any of the conversation. The actual words are muddled, their tones too quiet, too rushed.  And ever so quietly she opens the zipper on the backpack and snags a pair of yoga shorts, still pulling them on as she makes her way towards the door.  Resting a palm against the smooth cool wood, the fingers of her other hand curling around the metal door handle.  She feels no anxiety. No panic.  Just a quiet, composed calm as she listens to the soft rustling of clothes and the shuffle of footsteps and the whispered conversations. There are many things to take into consideration; someone mistakenly be giving this room number instead of their actual own, thinking perhaps maybe this was where a friend or family member had bedded down but weren’t one hundred percent sure. Hotel workers, maybe. Cleaning or maintenance staff. Porters. Room service clerks.

The conversation now moves away from the room;  the voices  becoming quieter, footsteps muffled against carpet as they head away from the room. And she counts to thirty before finally opening the door. Cautiously glancing to left and then the right; nothing but unmanned cleanings carts at either end and room service trays full of dirty dishes and cutlery in front of some of the doors.  To the right comes the soft rumble of the elevator motor, and as the door opens with a chime, she’s just able to see two figures step out of a doorway across from the lift and hurriedly make their way towards it. Neither of them glancing in her direction as she scurries in her bare feet towards them.

****

“Shit!” she snarls, slapping her palm on the elevator door when it closes, cutting off any contact between herself and the occupants.   And she’s suddenly aware that a maid is watching her curiously from several feet away as she hovers over her cart of cleaning supplies. “Did you see who got on the elevator?” she inquires, her tone far more tense than she intends it to be.

“No, miss. I just got out here from cleaning a suite. Why…?”

“Who is staying that room?” she nods towards the door she’d seen the strangers step out from.

“No one. It’s empty.”

“How long has it been empty for?”

“A couple of days now.”

Esme frowns. “Are you sure? Are you a hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, miss. I cleaned it myself. When the guests left.”

“Are you sure you’re not mixing it up with another room? Because I just saw two people come out of there. A man and a woman. They were outside my door. That’s five rooms away from here. I heard them talking. Are you certain there is no one staying in there?”

The frazzled housekeeper nods.

“And you didn’t see anyone got on the elevator? Not even a peek at them?”

“Like I said, I was just in a room cleaning. You can call down to the front desk if you like and inquire about that room, but they’re only going to tell you the same thing I am. There hasn’t been anyone in there for a couple of days now. I’d know. I’m the one that has to tidy up after people.”

Esme gives a polite, albeit curt, thank you and moves towards the room in question.  Facing the door, taking as many steps forward as she can until her bare toes touch the wood.  There wasn’t enough room for one person to hide in that small of an alcove, never mind two.  She tries the handle on a whim, finding the door tightly secure. Then presses her ear to the door and listens for any sign of life.

Nothing.

It’s disheartening. Even maddening. She knows what she heard. What she saw. Yet there’s absolutely no proof that any of it actually happened.   There are no faces to connect with the voices. No bodies to place with the footsteps. There’s nothing but two strangers getting on an elevator. And the questions they’d left behind.

She turns to head back to the room, realizing that in her haste to catch whoever had been in the hallway, that she’d inadvertently locked herself out. The key card tucked securely inside of her wallet. Back in the nightstand on her side of the bed. And she’s muttering to herself about when she steps out of the shallow alcove, nearly jumping clear out of her skin when she nearly collides with Tyler’s broad, solid torso.

“Jesus Christ!” she cries, having to fight back to urge to either knee him in the groin or punch him in the throat. A natural instinct when startled by God knows what. Or who knows what. “What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to leave the room alone.”

“So that gives you the right to sneak up on me and nearly make my pee myself? Fuck, Tyler. You could have at least said something, so I didn’t nearly kick you in the nuts. You didn’t have to creep up on me like that.”

He isn’t amused. His brow furrowed and his nostrils flaring as he curls his fingers around her upper arm and pulls her out of the doorway and practically shoves her down the hall; grip on her tightening as he propels her towards their room.

“I don’t have my card,” she reluctantly admits, and he heaves a frustrated sigh and nods down in the direction of the left-hand pocket on his flack jacket.  His own hands already occupied, one with the painfully tight hold on her arm, the other with a carry out tray of beverages and a bag of food.  “I didn’t think it would lock behind me,” she attempts to reason, as she plucks the card from the jacket and slips it into the slot on the door.

Letting of her arm, he pushes the door open, holding it for her. “Just go,” he orders, voice low and menacing.  

She pauses on the threshold, a hand on her hip as she glares up at him. “We are NOT fighting about this.”

He smirks, eyeing her up and down with that utter condemnation that uses for those that especially piss him off. Then nods in the direction of the interior of the room. “Go.”

She arches her eyebrows, as if silently challenging him, but his deep inhale and slow, measured exhale tells her that this is not the time to be testing the limits of either his patience or his temper. Instead she holds her hands up in surrender and stomps past him. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she watched his every move; the way he lets the door slam shut and does up both the deadbolt and the chain, that condescending smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he walks past her, that calm yet utterly unnerving way he unpacks the carry tray and the bag and places the contents on a table near the window.  She’s had five and a half years of this, whether it be the silent treatment or abrupt one or two word answers, or outright blow outs.  Yet he’s still hard to read sometimes. A master at hiding his true feelings. That expression steadfast.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the room on your own,” his voice is calm. Too calm. Like the eerie stillness right before a storm.

“I only stepped out for a couple of minutes.” It sounds lame, even to her own ears.

“We talked about this. I told you not to anywhere by yourself. You said you wouldn’t.”

“It was only a couple minutes,” she repeats.

“Do you know how much can happen in two minutes?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Tyler. I’m not one of your kids.”

“You listen just as well as they do. Actually, I think they listen better than you do.”

She frowns. “What’s next? I can’t go to the bathroom without you holding my hand?”

That smirk again. “I thought you said you didn’t want to fight about this? Because it sounds like you’re trying to start a fight.”

“I can’t leave the room, yet you can leave the hotel by yourself?” she challenges, and he gives a derisive snort.

“I can handle myself. If something goes wrong, I can take care of it.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t talk to me like one. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“You mean like you were able to take care of Jason by yourself?” he counters.

“That was five years ago and under totally different circumstances.”

“You stole my gun, stole my car, snuck out of the house and flew to Dhaka. While you were pregnant. You’re right. Totally different circumstances. In fact, they’re even worse than these circumstances. I told you not to go anywhere by yourself. I asked you to listen to me and stay in the room. At all times.  Unless I’m with you, you don’t go anywhere. And you said okay. You were fine with that. So what the fuck is the issue? I’m gone for half an hour and you totally go against everything I told you?”

“I was fifty feet away.”

“I don’t give a shit!” he bellows, and she blinks at the vehemence in his voice. “I don’t care if it’s five feet away! I don’t care if it’s the next fucking room! You don’t leave by yourself! You did this shit back in Dhaka and you’re doing it now. I told you back then not to leave my side and you did and you’re still doing this shit now. Why do you have such a hard time listening to what I say?”

“I’m a human being, Tyler. Not a thing. Not some object you own. So…”

“You’re my wife!” he snaps.

“Yes. I am. But that doesn’t make me your possession. You don’t have ownership over me.”

“That is not what this is about. This isn’t about me wanting to own you or having possession of you or whatever weird shit you have in your head. This is about keeping you safe!  This is about making sure that at least one of us gets home to our kids! I’d rather it be me that something happens to you than you. I asked you…I told you…not to go anywhere on your own. Not because I think I own you. But because you’re the mother of my children and I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you!”

“Well I don’t want anything happening to you either and you’re out that by yourself.”

“That is not the same thing and you know it.”

“Because you’re the big bad mercenary who can kill people with his bare hands and I’m just some vulnerable little girl that needs you to protect her at all costs.”

“Esme…” he sighs heavily. “…just stop…why are you even arguing with me about this? You know you fucked up. Just own it. I told you not to go anywhere alone and you did. You can try turning it around all you want. You can try and make me look like the bad guy. Which you’ve been doing for five years every time we get into a fight. I’m always the one that’s wrong. The one that’s controlling or possessive or treats you like a little kid.”

“Well you do. Treat me like that.”

It takes all he has not to storm across the room, grab her and shake the shit out of her. Instead he takes his voice down a notch, able to rein in his temper, standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “I am trying to protect you. Do you know what can happen in a couple minutes? How wrong things can go in just a few feet, never mind forty or fifty? Or a hundred? What if someone had have been out there just waiting for you? What if you’ve already been made and someone is just waiting for you to fuck up? What then?”

“I wasn’t thinking about all of that,” she admits. “I…”

“All the rooms you had to walk past to get where you were. What if someone had have just been waiting in one of those doors? Just waiting for you to walk by? You would have ended up just like McMann’s wife and kids. And then what? Then what the fuck would I do? Then I would have to say fuck them and extract my own goddamn wife. Did you even stop to think about that? What the hell would happen to you? What someone would put you through? Especially if it’s someone after me? Do you know the shit they would do to you?”

“I didn’t think of that stuff.  I just…”

“They’d torture you. They’d beat you. They’d rape you. And they’d do all kinds of other sick, twisted shit to you. I have seen what these kinds of people do. I’ve seen it firsthand. So don’t ever question why I am the way I am with you. Why I want to protect you like I do. Because I’ve seen what do to women tied to mercenaries. And I’d never forgive myself if it happened to you,” he pushes hair behind her ears, cradles her face in the palms of his hands, then leans down to kiss softly.  “Now are we done? Can we stop fighting now?”

“Well it was pretty one sided because you were the one doing the yelling, but…”

“Stop,” he implores, and pecks her lips.  “I was just worried. I didn’t mean to freak out. But this is serious shit and I don’t want anything happening to you. Are we still friends?”

“It depends.”

“Yeah?” he grins, and runs a fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “On what?”

“What you brought me for breakfast.”

****

They sit on the balcony to enjoy their feast; bowls of fruit salad, bagels with cream cheese, cups of fresh, piping hot coffee and tea.  It’s a beautiful morning; fresh, cool air replacing the stifling humidity that had blanketed the city just the day before, a brilliant blue sky with enormous, stark white low hanging clouds, a steady stream of cars and pedestrians on the streets below. A busy metropolitan area, but a far cry from the dusty crowded streets of Dhaka.

Aside from that short trip to Cuba together -when the twins had been conceived in a bar bathroom- the last time they’d holed up together in a hotel had been five years ago in Dhaka. That run-down flea bag establishment with its rodent and insect problem and its stained walls and foul smell that clung to every inch.  Yet despite the state of the place, that was where everything had begun.  Where two lonely and broken people had discovered that their tattered and weather halves could be put together to make a slightly tarnished and dented whole.

“Have you ever heard of the Buckman family? Tyler suddenly asks, as they sit side by side in plastic lawn chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him, sunglasses on his face, coffee in one hand, her hand clasped tightly in the other. “From New Zealand?”

She’s silent for a moment, her bare feet perched upon the top railing of the balcony. “We’re talking organized crime here, aren’t we.”

He nods.

“I know of them. I’ve never had anything to do with them personally because I only dealt with things in North America.  But yeah, I’ve heard of them. Why? How do you even know that name?”

“McMann’s wife is related to them. Her father was the head of it, I guess.”

“Alphonse Buckman? I used to hear all kinds of stories about him from colleagues that had run ins with him and his people. All kinds of crazy shit.  We’re talking things like attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, forcible confinement.  And that is just the tip of the iceberg. I wouldn’t even have believed half of it had I not actually seen the guy’s rap sheet for myself.  Even the people I got close to were afraid of him. Who would have thought of a crime family in New Zealand of all places?  His daughter? Really? How did you find all this out?”

“Yaz ran a background check on her. Remember those videos I showed you? Of the wife and the kids?”

She nods. “I remember you thinking it was strange because the kids were in some dumpy place and she looked like she was somewhere just as nice as our hotel room.”

“I have to show you something,” he gives her hand a squeeze and then stands up, grimacing at the pain in his knees, the small of his back aching and stiff as he heads bare foot into the room. Returning a minute later with the file folder in hand. “Someone came to the hotel I was at before. Middle of the night. Gave me these.”

She takes the item offered to her, then pushes her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and opens the folder.  “Proof of life pictures?”

“Apparently,” he grabs his chair and places it in front of her, so they’re face to face. “Tell me what’s weird about them.”

“Well at first blush, the kids are obviously the target of whoever has them. They’re the ones that are the main focus of revenge or rage or whatever you want to call it.  Whoever is doing this are sick fucks,” she fights to control her emotions; her thoughts immediately going to her own children thousands of miles away.  And Tyler reaches out lays a comforting hand on her knee, squeezing gently in an attempt to keep her calm and focused.  “They’ve definitely been getting the worst of things. And wherever they are, it’s run down.  Brick walls, exposed pipes and electrical. Almost…industrial…like a warehouse or a basement.”

“What about the wife?”

She moves the photos of the children to the bottom of the pile. “The place is clean. Tidy. A couple of stains on the walls and chunks out of the plaster but nothing gross.”

“What else?” he presses.

“She has a few bruises but nothing major.  It looks she’s sitting on a wooden chair. Only her ankles are restrained which is weird as hell. I haven’t physically gone into an extraction and seen one for myself, but it doesn’t seem too productive to only restrain someone by the feet. And the kids are in metal chairs. She’s in a wooden one. Looks antique almost. Or a good knock off.  Looks like she tried to give herself a hair cut and failed miserably. Like someone tried to hard to make it look like her hair was hacked off. Even Millie did a better job when she tried to cut her own bangs when she was three.”

“And? What does that tell you?”

She holds a photo of the children and one of the mother side by side, chewing pensively on her bottom lip as she studies. “Tyler…this…” she holds up the picture of Heather Buckman. “…is fake. Not the photo itself. That’s very much real. But the situation surrounding it. It’s not real. It’s totally a hoax.”

“You’re sure?”

“This and this…” she holds the photos side by side, facing him. “…do not go together. What the kids are going through…what’s being done to them…that is very real. But Heather Buckman is lying. She is not being held. She’s acting. There is no way that someone…no matter how sick in the head…would do all that to children but barely make a mark on an adult. Adults they can inflict more damage on. Which they want. They want to be able to prolong it.”

“God, I love you,” he declares, and leans over to kiss her.

“I mean, I’m no criminologist but I’ve seen enough in my own time on the job to know when something isn’t on the up and up. And this is as fake as it comes. But why? Why would she do this? To her own kids? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that. I would die for my kids. In a heartbeat. I can’t imagine doing something like this. I can’t…” the emotion becomes to difficult to control and she stuffs the photos back into the folder and hands it to them. “…I don’t want to see these ever again.”

He nods in understanding, then presses a tender kiss to her forehead before tucking the folder underneath his chair.  

“So is McMann involved in this too?” she asks. “Are they both in on this? Is this some screwed up way of getting back at you for something?”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with me at all. This isn’t someone looking for revenge. I have zero ties to these people. Or the IRA or the Buckman family. This has nothing to do with me. I’m just the guy that McMann wants help from.  I don’t think he’s involved. I think he’s being straight with me. That his wife and his kids were taken, and he needs help getting them back. He has no clue his wife is even involved.”

“Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“Only people that know anything about this are Nik, Yaz, me, and now you. I’m supposed to have a meeting with McMann tomorrow morning to see where everything stands. I’ve got nothing to give him. I can’t get any information out of anyone about the wife and kids.”

“Because you’ve been made.”

He nods. “That’s where you come in.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense. Why? Why would the wife do this?”

“McMann told me that they met when he was going an extraction in New Zealand. That his wife was a shop keeper that would feed him information.”

“Okay…”

“It was a lie. Her grandmother was the shop keeper.  Her mother…Heather McMann’s mother…kidnapped her to get her away from the old man. Because of how dangerous he was.  She was seventeen when it happened. McMann was thirty-three.”

“That alone is fucked up but go on.”

“He didn’t meet her on the job. She was the job.  She was his extract.”

“Wait…. wait…” she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.  “…what?”

“He was working for her old man. To get her back. Only once he got her, he never returned her. He took the money but never brought her back.”

“So he fell in love and hooked up with the person he was supposed to be extracting?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d say this, but that makes what happened between us on the job sound totally normal. But why is she doing this to her husband? If he saved her back then…”

“It was a hit.  On her old man. Either McMann did it himself or he had some IRA buddies do it.”

“But why?”

“He was taking jobs for the old man and some of his friends, pocketing the money, and never actually getting any of the work done.”

“So he’s pissed off a lot of people. First the IRA for defecting, then the Buckman family and whoever is caught up with them.”

“Yaz thinks the wife found out. That her husband killed her father. And that he’s been cheating on her.”

“Kind of overkill for adultery don’t you think? To stage your own kids’ kidnapping to lure your husband into a trap to kill him? Why not just make things easier on yourself on and just cut his dick off? That’s what I’d do.”

“Wait…what?”

“I’d totally cut your dick off if you ever cheated on me. I wouldn’t even think twice.”

“Not that I ever would cheat, but seriously?”

“You cheat on me and you’re going dickless for the rest of your life, buddy. That’s just the way it is.  None of this is making any sense. Or maybe it is and my brain is mush. Maybe my mommy brain is worse than I thought. So what you’re saying is that McMann took for an extraction and instead of actually extracting the girl, he fell in love with her and married. I’ll leave out the part that she was a kid at the time, because…ewwww…”

“You’re right. It does make what happened between us seem sane,” Tyler concludes.

“…he takes the money for that but never gives her back to her father.  He starts taking jobs and the money for those jobs but never actually does anything. Pissing off a lot of people, including her old man, in the process. He puts a hit out on his father in law…or does it himself…the wife eventually finds out and mixed in with the knowledge he is screwing around, she goes off the deep end and seeks revenge.”

Tyler frowns. “I feel like I need to write this down. Should I be writing this down? I’m starting to confuse myself.”

“She goes totally Mommy Dearest and uses the kids in the most horrific way possible in order to lure her husband in and kill him?”

“Yeah…that’s pretty much it.”

“Tyler…this is messed up…way beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. Please tell me this is the weirdest shit you’ve ever dealt with.”

“I’ve seen and heard some weird things, but not this level of weird.”

“I feel like I’m eating at the buffet of strange,” she sighs.  “So why is the IRA involved in all of this?”

“They’re not. That’s what whoever is doing this wants us to think.  They didn’t claim responsibility and they say they had nothing to do with it.  Whoever is doing this, wanted us to think that so we’d stir up a whole lot of shit with the IRA and take the heat off of them.”

“You realize what could have happened? Had you just gone in on McMann’s word and tried taking out the IRA? Jesus Christ, Tyler. You would have started a whole bunch of shit for no reason. And you would have not survived that mess.  And how did you get those pictures? Someone showed up at the hotel?”

“Some girl. Showed up at my door at in the middle of the night. Claiming she worked for the IRA.”

“And you don’t think she did?”

He shakes his head. “She works for the wife. I’m sure of it. She said that ‘they’ know who I am. They know my name, the things I’ve done, why I’m here. She said they know everything about me. Including about my wife and my kids.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “That’s why you had Nik come to the house with those guards. Because of a threat?”

“I don’t think it’s a legit threat. It’s probably just to scare me off. Get me off their scent. They think I’ll head home and forget all about what’s going on over here.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe we should go home.”

“We can’t. I need your help. I can’t find those kids without you. I don’t care about the wife. I don’t care about McMann. They can kill each other for all I give a shit. It’s about those kids.”

“You’re going to extract them, aren’t you.”

He nods.  “I need your help. I can’t find them without you. I need you to find out where they are.”

“And you honestly think I can do that? That I can find my way to these people and make them talk?”

“I don’t think you can. I know you can.”

She gives a small smile and reaches out to push his hair from his eyes. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“If anyone can get the information, it’s you.  I need you to do this, Esme.  I need you to help me find those kids.”

“Okay,” she says with a nod, and then leans forward to kiss him, a hand on the side of his face. “Where do we start?”

[akitokihojo]

Enchanted - Part 6

“He wants a marriage to his daughter to be the ties of our alliance. I’ve accepted for you.”

Inuyasha flashed cold, the spit of his swallow hitching in his throat as his brother’s words processed. He’d given him away. He’d given him away like a stray to the pound. There was no warning that told Inuyasha this was even in the works; he was completely caught off guard. The cold shifted to temped, and the temped shifted to the kindling heat of a birthing fire, and that then shifted to a furious scald that brought his scowl to form and twitch and his fingers to ball into tightly-bunched fists.

“You did what?” The prince seethed.

“I did what is best for our country.” Sesshomaru stated, ember eyes rooted to his brother’s.

“How the hell is a marriage best for our country?”

“Inuyasha, it’s what’s behind the marriage that matters; the message it puts across.”

“Oh, it’s the message you’re going for. Here’s a thought: make a banner!”

“Don’t be so closed-minded.”

“I am not getting married!”

“You are."

“He is not getting married.” Kagura spoke. Her tone was level, but dictating; a rule-all note drawing her husband’s attention. She crossed the gap between them, holding out her hand expectantly, cocking a thin brow as she stabbed him with deadly, crimson irises. “What’s in the envelope?”

“The agreement.” The king replied, placing the parchment in her hand. The queen took out the paper from within the opened seal, carelessly discarding the now-empty envelope on the table beside her before unfolding the letter to see what was written. Hardly reading through, her eyes flashed straight to the bottom where the signatures sat, an intrigued hum leaving her pursed lips. 

“As I suspected,” She started, condescendingly. “This isn’t endorsed correctly.”

He furrowed his brows, shifting his chin further down towards her as he awaited an explanation.

“I don’t see my signature anywhere. It’s unofficial. In fact, I don’t remember you bringing this matter to my attention at all. Do you have a habit of talking to me while I sleep, or…”

“Kagura-“

“Fix it.” She ordered.

“I’ve already accepted.”

“Improperly.”

“The deal has been made.” Sesshomaru said, the hint of frustration bringing a click to his tone.

Kagura took the top end of the paper between both hands, shredding it down the middle and dropping the pieces to the floor. “Arranged marriages are medieval. There hasn’t been one in this kingdom in-“

“I know the statistics, but sacrifices must be made!”

“And as king, you are the one that must make the sacrifice!”

“Kag-“

“You fail to realize that I am not talking to you as your wife. I am talking to you as your queen.” She was the one to raise her chin this time, staring him down as if he were a criminal waiting for his sentencing. “Since you have such poor communication skills and I’m not in the mood to wait around for your plan of action, let me lay it out for you. You are going to get in touch with Onigumo. You are going to tell him that you spoke impulsively and that a marriage to his daughter is not suitable terms. You are going to offer him something else in trade. If he declines, you will find another kingdom to ally with.”

“Do you understand how bad that will make us look!?” Sesshomaru bellowed.

“Now whose fault is that?”

“You are being unreasonable!”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d consulted me beforehand.”

The tension in the room was sliceable, dense, hard to breathe through, and Inuyasha watched through slanted eyes how his brother, though angry, latched his gritted hand to the table so as to control his temper, his nails dragging across the forgotten envelope. His nose twitched with his snarl, and his jaw was set forward. Kagura stood her ground, staring at her husband with the perfect amount of indignation, a challenging glimmer in her eye that rivaled the king’s vehemency.

With an extraordinary amount of control, Sesshomaru spoke as levelly as possible, the snarl in his tone cooling to refrain from further pushing his wife’s mood. “What do you suppose I offer them in trade, Kagura?”

“Oh, now you want to talk it through with me? Now you want my help?”

Too late.

“Inuyasha, leave. I need to have a discussion with your queen.”

“Inuyasha, stay. Your king’s word has no power right now.” She fired, eyes boring into the burning glare of her husband’s.

“You would have been against my decision; that’s why I never told you.” Sesshomaru growled.

“Yes, I would have told you it was stupid! I would have told you to act rationally! I would have told you that you would be risking the relationship you have with the one blood-related family member you have left!”

“It’s for our kingdom! We must do what is right!”

“After executing all other resources! What have you done, oh great king!? Did you offer him money, horses, food, materials, livestock, grain, a statue - if that’s what he’s into!?”

Sesshomaru didn’t answer, his jaw still contracted and set, breathing so heavily it huffed loudly from his nostrils. A moment passed where he willed himself to steady, to calm as much as possible given the grilling he was receiving, closing his eyes as he fought back the disgruntled growl and raking his fingers through his silver hair.

“You didn’t even try to negotiate, did you?” Kagura questioned, her tone soft yet holding heavy shock. “He told you his terms and you took it.”

“Yes.”

“You would have gone head-to-head with your father if he even considered doing the same to you.”

He said nothing.

“You need to fix this.”

“It may be too late.”

“You better hope it’s not.”

Sesshomaru’s begrudging gaze slowly shifted over to Inuyasha, and the prince could easily see how demolished his brother’s pride currently sat. Through gritted teeth, he spoke.

“I will try to renegotiate the contract. I will try.”

He could tell by the emphasis that the deal may already be solidified. Though in their country decisions were not set unless one was reached by both the king and queen, it didn’t always matter in different jurisdictions. A signature was received. There was a chance, and a good one at that, that the alliance was set, he’d be betrothed to their princess, and if the deal was withdrawn it was grounds for war. Especially going against a ruler as redoubtable as Onigumo. The breath was tediously pulled from Inuyasha’s lungs, a hollow hole beginning to be carved within the center. His life, his freedom, everything he’d worked for up until now was balancing on the line.

Sesshomaru stomped past him, his cloak hitting Inuyasha’s arm in his tenacity, throwing the door to the office open as he stormed out. Kagura, roiling in her steam, let his footsteps fade before storming out the door, herself, and heading in the opposite direction. And Inuyasha was left alone. To wait for the decision of his own future.

—

As the days passed, Inuyasha had quickly grown rough around the edges. He was never very good at waiting on other people, always preferring to get the job done, himself. That obviously wasn't possible in this case, and that fact, alone, had his blood coursing through his veins at an alarming pace. His brother had nothing to say to him since that day, and though Inuyasha could live without a single interaction given his degree of resentment, no news from the king meant no change. The more he walked passed without a word of update, the more uneasy Inuyasha became. 

He didn't want to be around anybody, found himself only replying in grunts, and focusing on his work was entirely impossible and all the more aggravating. He hadn't been able to bring himself to go see Kagome. Not with the information he had plaguing his mind. How was he supposed to face her knowing he may have to leave her? How was he supposed to pretend everything was alright when he wasn't one-hundred sure it was? He couldn't tell her. He could hardly handle the anticipation, how would it be fair to string her along, as well? Just the thought of tears swelling in her eyes when he told her - no, he couldn't do it.

Not if he didn't have to.

Though, as the eighth day came and went, even he hated being around himself. He was intolerable. He was angry, unbearably nervous, and his stomach had been in shambles. No matter how many doors he shut himself behind, though, a certain little girl always knew where to find him. 

There was a small, isolated room connected to the library full of aged novels with golden trim. It wasn't frequented by anyone as it served more as an altar of his late father's collection of books he favored; no one wanted to disturb the dust the magnificent dog demon king left behind. The room was initially intended for a place to read in solitude; it had a window that peered over the forest grounds with a cushioned alcove to rest along, and against the opposite wall was a medium-sized couch - big enough for slouching into, but not quite spacious enough to sprawl over in supreme comfort given the proximity of the room. Now, it was more of a closet. The couch was covered by a white sheet to protect it, and around the rest of the room were various items and boxes. Inuyasha had taken it upon himself to shove it all to the far corner, allowing the nook in the window to be one his retreats in the castle.

He'd heard her tiny footsteps coming, treading slowly and carefully on the carpet. She'd recovered well, the only thing tiring her out being her lingering cough that would take more time to fade, but she wasn't allowed outside. Not until the bitter season warmed and her chances of falling sick again weren't so detrimental. That meant she was stuck in the midst of the thick animosity plaguing the castle. No one really spoke other than for business-related matters, but that didn't mean the tension wasn't clear to observe. Even for an eight year-old. The handle twisted and the door opened at a meager pace, her head poking through the gap. Inuyasha turned toward her, gathering the cautious expression on her face and downward curve of her lips. Immediately, he grew concerned that something was wrong, bringing his legs down from the seat so he could swivel to face her.

Rin sauntered forward, allowing the door to close with its own weight, the soft click shutting them in. She'd seen her papa upset numerous times before and knew very well to steer clear of him until whatever had upset him was settled; sometimes that took ages considering his habit of harboring grudges. She'd seen her mama's temper, too, though her mother was a bit more attentive and capable of hiding whatever bothered her whenever Rin was around. What she'd never seen before was her uncle so distraught. He was more outspoken than her papa, more likely to act impulsively, more passionate in his endeavors, and sometimes needed space to recoup. Not once had she seen him like this, though, and not once had his mood stretched out for so long. She was worried.

With the way he spun toward her, she could tell he was pushing his own feelings aside in case she needed him for something. He was good like that. And that's what she was there to try to do for him. Wordlessly, Rin moved forward, stopping just before his knees as he bent to prop his elbows on his thighs, meeting her height perfectly. Bringing her hands up to his cheeks, she gently ran her thumbs beneath his lackluster eyes, missing the vibrancy they held not too long ago.

"What's wrong?" He whispered.

"I wish I was a knight." Rin quietly admitted, copying the caressing patterns he usually traced on her own cheeks when she cried. "That way I would be strong enough to fight off whatever hurt you."

Inuyasha shut his eyes defeatedly, feeling whatever defenses he had up crumble away as he sighed and leaned into the little girl's touch. He was that obvious, huh? She was so tender, so caring, and he wrapped his arms around her waist for the sweetest hug he hadn't realized he'd needed. She gripped the shirt at the back of his neck, her grasp on him tight and sorrowful, like she was trying to take the pain and angst away from him. Even after the hellish week she'd previously had.

"Can I stay with you for a while?"

He didn't answer, just dragged her closer to easily bring her into his lap.

Inuyasha settled his legs back onto the alcove cushion and leaned to rest along the wall. His niece sat comfortably between his legs, cuddling into his chest as he combed his fingers through the length of her hair. The feeling of her breathing, her arms holding him, her minuscule body weight laying against him, settling further and further as she continued to relax grounded him like nothing else had recently been able to.

The prince realized soon thereafter that seeing Kagome may be better medicine than staying away from her. He was in a slightly more rational place now. Slightly. He didn't have to say anything. He just wanted to see her and slip away from the pressure of his home. Five minutes. If he was allowed that, he'd be better balanced to wait a bit longer for an update from his brother without losing his temper. His aides stayed behind, both of them understanding the weight on his shoulders and the desperation in his voice. 

The snow had melted and absorbed into the earth, the soil along the forest path finally firming from the softened muddy state it had been for the majority of the last month. The crisp air felt so different outside the castle walls; lighter, colder, distracting. It helped the drawl of his steps even out to a level pace, his eyes lifting from the ground to scout out the curve ahead where her cottage would be found.

"Hi!" A bright voice announced from behind him, startling a chill up his spine. The prince spun around to see a thoroughly shocked Kagome, brown eyes wide and brows raised high, visible through the few parts in her bangs.

"Christ." Inuyasha groaned, clutching his chest over his heart.

"Woah, are you okay?" She approached, a curious smile curving her lips. "I didn't think it was possible to sneak up on you."

"Did you even make a noise?" He asked exasperatedly, still not recovered.

"No, because I'm stealthy."

"You're the furthest thing from stealthy."

Kagome gestured to his current, crumpled state in an opposing manner, bringing the prince to eat his words just as quickly as he'd said them. He laughed, gliding his tongue over his teeth and nodding as he admitted defeat to the cheeky girl.

When he didn't move closer or reach to pull her in as he normally would, and his smile gradually faded, so did hers. He felt off and distracted, and with the way his shoulders weren't held as high as they normally appeared, she felt like she could literally see a shelf of lead weighing him down. Stepping forward, Kagome cautiously reached for his fingers with her own, moving at a pace to respect his dubiety. Inuyasha sighed out when she entwined themselves together, standing so close to him she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

"Something's wrong." She pointed, tone faint and welcoming.

"It's nothing." He quickly dismissed, shaking his head though never taking his eyes from hers.

"You're lying."

He only shook his head some more, leaning down to rub the tips of their noses together. Hers was cold and soft, and he could feel himself quickly growing precarious as she established a firmer grip on his hand.

"You can tell me if you want to." She breathed, and Inuyasha ducked his head to bury his face in the curve of her shoulder and neck, withdrawing his hand from hers to wrap both of his arms within the confinements of her warm cloak and around her waist. Instantly, Kagome fastened her own arms over his shoulders, her fingers threading through the short, silver hair at the nape of his neck. The concern wringing at her stomach was nearly debilitating. She never thought she'd see the day where the stoic prince appeared so unsteady. Even his hold on her was tighter than usual, his breaths hot against her skin, his fingers clutching the fabric of her dress at her back. "What happened?"

Reluctantly, Inuyasha peeled himself back to look at her, giving a wane smile. "I don't want to talk about it. I just came to see you. I can't stay long, though."

She gathered the expression he maintained, returning his smile with a little more warmth behind her own. She understood, and she wouldn't push. Slowly, she pressed to her tiptoes, just barely skimming her lips over his to get him to inch down her way. His breath was warm against her mouth, soothing when she wasn't the one that needed it, and she gave him a soft kiss, skimmed her lips again, then kissed him fully. 

How could he possibly leave her?

He was aching inside at just the thought, refusing to allow the kiss to end quickly and holding the crook of her jaw to soak her in. He'd missed her. He'd made a mistake staying away when he didn't have to. More than anything, he wanted the hollow that had expanded an inch in the last week to be filled by this singular moment.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited recently." Inuyasha sighed, resting his forehead along hers. He felt the small shudder her body released as she breathed, shaking her head against his to dismiss his apology. 

"Don't be. I understand. How’s Rin doing?"

The prince stood up straight, smoothing her dark hair to the front of her shoulders. "She's fine. Better. Much better. I never got to properly thank you for that."

“No need." Kagome smiled, trailing her fingers back and forth over the long sleeves of his forearms. "It's my job. I'm just so glad she's better."

Inuyasha leant down for another scant kiss, lingering just above her mouth where their lips tenderly grazed.

"I have to go."

“Okay. I love you."

He kissed her forehead, forcing himself to step away and walk back toward the castle.

Her chest felt heavy as she watched him stride away. In the small moment they were able to share with one another, she didn't feel like she'd done everything she could have to help alleviate whatever troubled him. Sliding her hand into a small pocket in the side of her dress, her fingers fumbled over a thin chain, dancing over it ambivalently. As she found the thick adornment to it, she swallowed the feeling and called out to the prince, clutching it all and holding it tight. Inuyasha turned back and Kagome made her way to him, reaching for his hand and turning it upward. Covering his palm with her own, she allowed the necklace to trickle from her grasp, curling his fingers shut to hide the item within.

Inuyasha peeked as soon as she let him, analyzing the golden chain with the heart attached at the bottom and cocking a brow her way. Kagome's cheeks were sprinkled red, her brown eyes wavering from the necklace to the floor.

"It - uh - papa gave it to me about a year before he died." She began, finally looking up at him. "He'd had it for ages and I always loved it. He said it was one of those trinkets where the more you wore it, the luckier you were. A good luck charm. Keep it."

"Kagome, your father gave you this."

"I have a million things that used to belong to him sitting in my house. I want you to have that -" She paused, the flush of her face deepening slightly. "Because it used to belong to me. And maybe it’ll work for you.”

Once more, he studied the necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers and noticing the engraved markings in the shiny, golden heart. The hole was closing in his chest. All at once, he felt at peace, calmed, a smile inadvertently growing on his face, his stomach igniting in a homing, encouraging flutter. His attention flickered back to the girl, and he feigned a grimace.

"So, remind me, what type of cheese are you, exactly?"

"Alright, give it back!"

"I'm just curious, because that was a fondu-level move." He laughed, raising his arm so she couldn't reach the necklace to snatch away.

"You've ruined the moment, you can’t have it anymore!"

"It's just a question!"

"You're the worst!" Kagome hid her face behind her hands with a groan, and Inuyasha, though still chuckling, stepped forward, lightly flicking the back of her hand to get her to drop them. When she did, rolling her head begrudgingly to look at him, he gently pushed some hair behind her ear, smoothing the pads of his fingers over the softness of her cheek.

"Come here." He whispered, kissing her, starting off tender and deepening it as he pulled her closer to him, both hands curving around the back of her neck while the heart of the necklace rested along her clavicle. "Thank you. I needed this.”

—

It was almost unfair how used to waiting Inuyasha had grown. His mind had adjusted and convinced him that no news may be a good thing. Maybe they were working on different terms, maybe Sesshomaru was just being prideful and if it didn’t concern Inuyasha anymore, there was no reason to report it. He wouldn’t put it past his spiteful, older brother. But when his messenger came for him during swordsman training, boisterously calling out his name in the middle of a match and getting him jabbed with the blunt end of a wooden, makeshift blade while his attention was diverted, the pain of his stomach sinking hurt far worse than the force Koga inflicted him with.

The prince followed the imp down the corridor, a heat beginning to bubble in his core. It could have been something completely different that was about to be reported to him, and he tried convincing himself so, but the dreadful feeling kept building, growing, rising. His fingers tingled with the anticipation, and he flexed them over and over to get the sensation to leave. Nothing worked. Nothing in him would settle. Instead, as the door to his study came closer and closer, Inuyasha felt himself becoming angrier and angrier.

Inside, his brother sat behind his desk, ember eyes already braced on the opening as he entered. The king’s elbows were propped on the wooden surface, hands folded in front of his mouth, and irises flexed with consternation. No.

No.

“No.” Inuyasha spoke, voice strict and scowl forming.

“Inuyasha.” 

“No.”

The door shut as Jaken bowed and backed out, leaving the brothers alone - the most irresponsible decision in Inuyasha’s opinion.

Sesshomaru took in a slow drag of breath, pushing forward the creased papers before him for the prince to observe if he so chose. “I’ve tried to renegotiate. He won’t take anything else. The alliance has been signed; he won’t allow us to back out.”

Inuyasha chuckled all too incredulously, feeling more and more rocky as each word left the king’s lips. He dragged his fingers through his hair, spinning around as he walked towards the opposite side of the room because the sight of the bastard who’d signed his life away made him furious, sick, and as he approached a small, wooden table with a few books sitting atop it, he swiped his hand beneath and tossed the entire thing, not bothering to pay attention to what it collided with.

“Inuyasha!” Sesshomaru bellowed, standing from his seat in an authoritative form. “Maintain yourself!”

“Go fuck yourself!” He retorted, facing him once more and stalking forward. “How the hell did we even end up here!? You said you didn’t fight it at first, so why the hell not!?”

Sesshomaru’s jaw visibly tensed, lips curving down in condemnation. He made no approach to explain, but Inuyasha could see it all written clearly on his face.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Are you really that petty!?”

“At the time I had been proposed with this, your relationship didn’t exist.”

Inuyasha scoffed.

“It had no business existing thereafter! I accepted once the line was crossed!”

“There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, stating a royal can’t be with a commoner! It’s ill-advised, but not illegal!”

“What sort of message does it send out, Inuyasha!?”

“Unlike you, you pretentious jackass, not everything I do is a political statement!”

“You will watch your tongue.” The king narrowed his eyes, raising his chin a few inches.

Uncaring, Inuyasha shook with rage, his veins boiling as he stared Sesshomaru down. “What the hell for!? To show respect to the shit show you’ve become!?”

“Inuyasha!”

“You signed me away without debate in order to get me to conform to your idea of what’s right! And you used our country as an excuse!”

“Kill two birds with one stone, as they say.” The king slighted. “You can’t possibly tell me you’re this upset over a girl.”

Again, Inuyasha laughed, the cynicism in his tone perfectly evident. “You think this is all because of Kagome? You think this doesn’t remotely have anything to do with the fact that I’ve lost my freedom to choose my own direction!? You took it away from me! You gave me away like a fucking object using a tradition that hasn’t been practiced in over a century! This is about me! My life!”

“Get over it. Like I said, I’ve tried renegotiating -“

“Am I actually supposed to believe that!?”

“Whether you believe it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I have. I understand that you’re upset with me, but that won’t change anything either. I thought I was doing what’s best, and quite frankly, I still believe it’s for the better. Nonetheless, given the offers I’ve extended, they’ve all been rejected and the original treaty is in full swing. If I withdrew from the agreement entirely, I not only risked making the entire kingdom look uncoordinated and disgraceful, but also risked backlash from their ruler. I had to make a choice, and when it's between my people and my brother, you should understand which way I obligatorily had to lean. There will be a marriage. Soon.”

The prince clenched his fists, seething from the way Sesshomaru seemed to state everything so calmly; like it wasn’t a big deal to him. All expression seemed to vanish from the king’s eyes as he sat back into his cushioned chair.

“I apologize for the way this had to be.”

He wasn’t sorry.

“As royalty, we must be prepared to make sacrifices for our kingdom. I made a rash decision, but there’s no way out of it. The alliance will strengthen our forces and lessen our chances of an attack the sooner it’s known, though. Sometimes, we must swallow our differences and accept the change that’s to come. As prince, this is your responsibility. Your duty. You understand that, don’t you?”

It was like his tone carried a condescending backhand to it, smiting Inuyasha, but he was plagued by the tail end of it all. No matter how much he fought, it didn’t change the fact that he did have a duty to his people. There was an attempt to breech their forces months ago, and though he detested the route his brother had taken to rectify the situation, it was done. Their alliance with the kingdom of Naraku would protect their people. It would protect Kagome. And this was the sacrifice he rancorously had to accept.

“Yes.” Inuyasha ground out, ember eyes falling to the side dejectedly. "I can't help but wonder, though - if you disagreed with our relationship so strongly, why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"Would it have mattered? Would it actually have made a difference if I spoke of my objections to you?" Sesshomaru rhetorically asked, cocking a brow at his younger brother. "You're living out this rebellious stage of your life, and quite frankly, it's not my problem. I considered it a fling. One that was going on too long - quite like a show you've expected to end about five times over and it's continuously dragging out. You've had your fun. Now it's time to grow up."

The prince absolutely seethed, as if Sesshomaru was implying he'd been so kind as to allow his relationship with Kagome to exist in the first place. It was patronizing, disrespectful, impudent, and cold. His blood was boiling maddeningly, and it took an extreme amount of self control to reel in his temper and not lash out, wanting one more thing explained.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Your Majesty, but there seemed to be a hint of regret when you first approached me with this bullshit. Pointedly, it's out of character for you, but -"

Sesshomaru sighed grittily, blinking slowly as he rolled his eyes, propping more on one elbow now than the other. "Inuyasha, do you think I enjoy disappointing people."

Inuyasha shrugged a brow in response.

"I'll admit, I hadn't realized how much you'd come to care for the girl. I asked once and you didn't seem sure. Even afterward, when you spent more time with her, I never heard a thing. It wasn't until I personally saw the way you looked at her that I understood."

"These feelings are between she and I. Why should I share them with anyone else, no less you? The only two people that information concerns are well in the know; I didn't think I had to get on my knee and sputter out my feelings for you too. Should I have reenacted the kiss, as well?"

"Then how was I wrong to assume it wasn't serious?" Sesshomaru asked, ignoring his brother's spewed sarcasm.

"How were you right to assume so?"

A pause. A feint waver in the man's eyes before steadily gluing back onto Inuyasha's. "Believe me, if I had known the storm that was coming from Kagura, I would have thought more carefully."

"Right. For Kagura's sake." Inuyasha scorned.

"Inuyasha -"

"Spare me. It's done, isn't it?"

The king sighed out, leaning forward to lean evenly on his forearms. “It is. Understand that your relationship with the girl is hereby over, too.”

“As is ours.” Inuyasha said with no hesitation, resentment evident in his words. There was a falter in his brother's straight-set lips, a particular hardening in his jaw setting it forward. “I will go to Kagome tomorrow. I’ll tell her.”

“No.” Once more, the king slid the papers forward for Inuyasha to study, but he didn’t move to take them, knowing full and well Sesshomaru was about to tell him everything he needed to know. “King Onigumo and Princess Kikyo will be here in two days. I won’t risk you being seen with another woman and offending your fiancee. You may have Kagome brought to you.”

Fiancee. It was too thick a pill for Inuyasha to swallow just yet.

“Two days?”

“Two days. I’d tell you the series of events that have been organized, but I risk you tearing up the rest of my office. I think we'll save that for later.”

Inuyasha swallowed the rumble in his throat, feeling a grimace contort his face. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know what was going to happen anyway. He’d heard enough for the moment. What disturbed him, brought his stomach to churn and ache, the hollow in his chest once more returning with an abysmal vengeance as he already began to feel emptier than he’d imagined, was the thought - the fact - that he would have to break this to Kagome. That he'd have to break her. 

“I will have her brought in tomorrow.” He conceded, the growl escaping as he spoke.

“The sooner the better.” His brother raised his brows, inferring he wanted it done immediately.

“Tomorrow. Let me gather what I’d like to say to her. She deserves a rational explanation.”

The king gave a curt nod, and as nothing more was said, Inuyasha spun on his heel, heading toward the door. He needed to put distance between them. Quickly. He needed to quell the colliding winds of his fury and vacancy before he accidentally dropped the defenses that had inadvertently formed and showed Sesshomaru the weakness he swelled in.

“Inuyasha.”

Without a sign of acknowledgment, the prince threw the large door open, a bang erupting as it slammed against the wall while he stormed away.

—

Kagome stood on the thin, front steps of the small cottage, waiting patiently for someone to answer her knock. She held the two looped drawstrings of the small pouch daintily, fiddling it between her fingers. It was hard to stay still in the cold, even beneath her deep green cloak, her muscles forcing her to tense or fidget for any source of friction.

"Kagome." A soft, woman's voice spoke from the side, and she turned at the familiarity of it. Sango and Miroku stood feet away, their expressions mostly solemn with the hint of a forced smile. Taking a moment to look around them, she noticed no one else; no other companion that was usually at the head of their pack. 

"Hi," She breathed, a fog appearing before her mouth and dissipating upward. When their hardly curved lips faded to somber-pressed lines, Kagome began to feel the beginnings of uneasiness swaying her form. "What's wrong?"

After a small moment, as if the two knights were silently debating who should be the one to speak, Miroku opened his mouth. "Would you mind coming with us? Inuyasha would like to see you."

The door opened beside her and Kagome's attention jolted back to the purpose she'd come here for. The elderly woman stood with the door cracked, a quilt wrapped around her frail shoulders. The skin of her face was a little brighter than the last time she'd dropped by, and Kagome was confident that her illness was finally starting to pass. 

"Kagome, you sweet thing. I would have sent my son to pick this up later." She spoke, gently placing her hand to the back of Kagome's.

"I wanted to drop it off, myself, so I could check in on you. How do you feel?"

"Much better." She smiled, though she could see the fatigue behind it all. "Still battling this god forsaken cough, but better."

"Good, this will knock you right out then." Kagome opened the small, velvet pouch, pulling out the little container of syrup. The old lady gratefully took the medicine, glancing over the woman's shoulder and noticing the castle guards behind her.

"O-oh! Knights! Is everything okay?"

"Yes, of course." Sango smiled. "We're friends of Kagome's. There's nothing to worry about, ma'am."

"Well, alright." She shrugged deeper into her blanket, giving one last courteous smile to the apothecary assistant on her steps. "I'll just blend this with some tea tonight before bed."

"To drown out the taste? I'd do the same." Kagome winked, waving goodbye before the door was shut. Carefully, she stepped down the three steps, approaching the two aides that hadn't moved. That uneasiness from before had unnoticeably been pushed aside during her interaction with the woman, but now it had returned, increasing an ounce as she noticed how unsure Sango's expression was. Something was wrong. The prince wasn't here and they were bringing her to the castle. There was no helping the irrational thoughts coming through. "Has something happened? To Inuyasha?"

"No," Miroku assured with a shake of his head. "He's fine, I promise. He'd just like a moment with you."

It didn't take anything more than that to get her to nod and follow behind them. Something still felt off. The knights weren't talkative, and the air about them was dense and sullen. The uneasiness sank into her stomach, roots slowly stretching out to make home in the organ as they stepped through the gates of the castle, her fingers continuing to fidget along the small pouch, more so out of nerves than the chill this time around, hoping the texture would help to soothe. She wished they'd talk to her, tip her off on what was going on, say something. The less they spoke, the worse it all sat.

Peculiarly, as the three of them crossed through the gates, she noticed housekeepers and groundskeepers scampering about almost frantically. Granted, Kagome had only been in the castle once before, but she was willing to bet the hurried paces, the amount of people tending to hedges and vines, the meticulous care while waxing the bannisters and decor inside, the fresh sheets and bedding being carried to bedrooms on the upper floors, and the amount of profuse apologies she'd received after being bumped into during their frenzy wasn't exactly normal. What was going on?

"He's right through there." Miroku gestured with an extended hand. They'd hiked up to the third floor and followed the curve in a hall to the right, entering through a door that only led them to another, albeit smaller, hallway. There weren't maids storming around this area, though; it was quiet in comparison, untouched, and seemingly private. She looked at the double doorway Miroku pointed her towards on her left. With how intimidated she felt, one would think the carved patterns in the wood were the thing that brought the shaky exhale to leave her nose. The two aides stood back, and with a push she had to give herself, Kagome stepped forward, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal of one of the arched and curled handles and twisting it open.

There was a little corridor in the entrance, and after shutting the door as quietly as possible, she stepped through, her eyes immediately taking in the polished wood of the walls and ceiling. It was a deep brown with a hint of red, the trimming resembling dark chocolate. Towards the far wall sat a large desk, papers scattered over the entire surface while an unorganized stack sat on the side. To the right of the desk, almost in the center of the long wall that stretched the room, was a large fireplace, a fire burning within and warming the room. As Kagome walked further, she noticed her prince. He sat on the couch along the opposite wall of the mantle, his elbows propped on his thighs and face buried in his hands, ears pinned low against his head. And her heart plummeted.

As she stepped closer, drawn to him, pained by his crumpled state, Inuyasha glanced up, finally noticing her. His lips were parted but he said nothing. His ember eyes were bright and illuminated by the crackling fire just across from him, and they conveyed a message she wanted to calm. Kagome kneeled just before his legs, so close that her own knees grazed him on her way down, the black dress she wore catching on his pants which she adjusted to sprawl out along the carpet.

She hadn't sat back to wait for him to speak. She couldn't. Not when he looked so torn; so anguished. Kagome filled the space between his thighs, her hands pulling his own to wrap around her waist, and when they gripped exactly as she wanted, the heat of his palms soaking through her clothing, she leaned forward to hug around his neck. It took a moment, a very small moment, for him to relax and sigh out some of the tension that held him still, tucking his face within the safety of her hair and throat.

"What's wrong?" Kagome whispered.

Inuyasha only held her tighter.

She figured she was there so he could finally tell her what had been bothering him for so long; she had a feeling this was correlated with his mood during their last meeting too. If she weren't kneeling on solid flooring, the anxiety of it all would have her swaying like she was on a boat out at sea. What was so bad that he couldn't talk about then, and had to have her brought in now? What had him so distracted and muddled that he didn't hear her approaching or sense her presence? It was harrowing, that was plain to see. What was worse to see was his state, and she didn't know which one she was more afraid of.

"Please, talk to me. I'm here."

And for the first time since meeting Kagome, he'd wished she wasn't. He felt nauseous even trying to gather his wit, the words he'd have to eventually say sinking into his stomach like a pill taken without food. He could only pray she hadn't become as attached to him as he had her. He knew where his responsibility lied. He knew that even if he had a choice, when the two options were put before him there never actually was one. This was his role as prince. It wasn't just a fancy title with a large house. He was born and raised to do whatever needed to be done to provide for his people. Given the route the king had chosen, it paved the path he now had to take. Whether he liked it or not.

Slowly, he released his hold on Kagome, unable to drag himself far as he tenderly stroked the soft curve of her jaw, resting his forehead along hers. If he could just selfishly keep her there until the very last moment, if he could just hold her to him until he was no longer allowed, he may be able to gather the courage and strength to face his coming fate. 

"I love you." He sighed. "You know I love you."

"You're scaring me." Kagome meagerly admitted, feeling an emptiness begin to tingle in the center of her chest. He was saying it like there was a counter to his feelings, and she was so afraid to hear the rest.

"Just listen, okay?" He made no move away from her, the fingers of one hand instead curving around the back of her neck. "This isn't easy, so just listen. There's a possibility the country is in danger. We don't know by who, and that's a huge problem, but we've been threatened. It's not something we can take lightly. In order to strengthen our forces and provide additional safety to everyone under our watch, the king has decided to create an alliance with a nearby kingdom. There's a catch, though. A stipulation that we were unable to negotiate away from."

His pause gave the information enough time to sink deep into her abdomen, grabbing her stomach and bringing it to drop with the weight of his emotion. She had nothing to do with country affairs, and there was a specific reason he'd brought her in to inform her of all of this. Kagome felt sick, a hard lump climbing up her esophagus, heat crawling uncomfortably over her face. Pulling away, she took in his unsteady expression; an expression he was energetically trying to maintain, but the slant in his eyes and the way his brows furrowed and lips curved down gave him away ruthlessly.

“What is it?" She asked, dread evident in her quivering voice.

Inuyasha breathed through the trepidation, his entire body hot. Her lips progressively became more pink as she pinched them together and worried the bottom with her teeth. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were shadowed, he could physically feel the apprehension riddling her small body, and it was killing him. God, this entire thing was killing him. Like a nervous tick, his hands shakily traveled over her neck and shoulders; whatever skin was available to him until her dress drew the boundary, even going so low as to graze over the softness of her chest in his angst.

It was hard to get the words out, each letter sticking to his tongue like they'd been glued there and he had to peel them off one-by-one. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to lose Kagome. 

But he had to.

"I have to marry their princess."

Everything in her abruptly halted and stilled, and she felt whatever composure she had in her lips drop as her mouth parted with his admittance, the thin skin peeling apart slowly as the only reaction her shattered heart could muster in that moment. She tried pulling herself back together, tried swallowing the rock and the information simultaneously, but it was proving to be harder than imagined. In order to regain even a small portion of her form, she had to look away from his eyes, his broken eyes, staring at his thigh beside her until she became capable of exhaling fully and pushing the initial impact of his statement away.

"You what?"

"I'm engaged. To someone else." Inuyasha forced out, abhorring every syllable he spoke. Watching her nod, watching her disbelieving smile appear, watching her eyes flutter to him, then away, back to him, then to the wall only stabbed him further. 

Her eyes stung, and she blinked profusely to prevent the tears from spilling over, but the ache in the forming hollow of her chest was nearly impossible to ignore.

"Kagome, this wasn't my doing." The prince pushed on, pulling her closer once more. "Please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with this. Sesshomaru made the decision without consulting anyone else, and that was it. Nothing could be done to take it back."

"And you tried?" Her tone was almost desperate, and she suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. She wanted to return his touch, but was she allowed? Was it appropriate? Would it make the situation worse or more bearable? She was weak with the temptation, though, and couldn't continue to hold back her fingers as they gripped at the cloth of his forearms, venturing further to hang onto the curve of his muscle.

“Yes! He made them several different offers, but the alliance had already been signed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Inuyasha said passionately.

Somewhere along the lines, Kagome felt like she'd forgotten he was royalty. Not because it wasn't how they were introduced, but because she'd come to know the man beneath the crown so well. On top of that, she was beginning to feel foolish to think she could have actually belonged in that fairytale. She wasn't of any noble blood. She didn't understand his world. It was vastly different from her own, and it was one of the reasons he’d hidden himself for so long. It was clear how much he didn't want this; she could see it in his eyes, his rigid tension, feel it in the twitch of his grasp on her, hear it in his voice. All she could do was take that for what it was. And as hard as gratitude was right now, she could appreciate that not a single part of him was cold.

She loved him. So much. And countering, or arguing, or showing how much she was hurting would only make things all the more harder on the prince. She couldn't do that to him. Kagome bowed her head slightly, pressing her lips together to fight the quiver of her chin, taking in a deep breath in a fighting attempt to compose herself.

"I understand." She said, finally looking back to him. "It's okay."

She noticed the tiniest of flinches in his brow.

"My only wish is that this wasn't something forced on you."

"What?"

"That it was something you wanted."

"Why would I want this?" There was a hint of incredulity in his tone, his hands falling to take hers from his forearms and hold them in his palms.

"So that you'd be happy." Kagome's demeanor began to waver, the ache in her chest intensifying as she imagined him with someone else. She pushed herself to breathe through it, to smile as well as she possibly could. 

"Stop."

"I just want you to be happy."

"Being with someone else is not going to make me happy."

"But I can wish it, can't I?"

"No! I don't want to hear that! Stop masking your feelings for my own sake, I can see right through you, idiot!”

"I don't know what else to do!” Her voice betrayed her entirely, cracking, a feeble sob breaking through as she held his hands tighter at the moment it clicked inside that she needed to let him go. She needed to stand. She needed to walk away. Because this was so despairingly difficult on both of them, and she was the one that had to leave, that could leave - to end the torment sooner. It hurt. The thought of losing him. The picture of him no longer in her life. She'd felt this emptiness once before, and it had crippled her then. It hadn't hit her fully yet, but as she loosened her hold she knew it would stab her through her heart the moment she couldn't see him anymore.

As she dragged her fingers over his open palm and out of his own grip, she noticed the prince glance to the side, his body hunching slightly. Her hands trembled horribly, chilled when taken from his warmth, but she reached for the little, velvet pouch on the floor that she hadn't realized she'd dropped and busied her fingers along it to quell the shaking. Unsteadily, Kagome rose to her feet. It was too hard to pretend she was collected, so she just focused on doing one thing at a time without crumbling over.

"I should go." It came out as a hoarse whisper. Broken. Soft. Weak. She had to go, she had to turn, she had to walk, but god it was so grueling to leave Inuyasha. One step at a time, her boots, hidden beneath the dark black of her dress, stepped along the carpet until she pushed herself to turn toward the door.

The tremor in her voice was more painful than what he had to bear alone. He hated that he was the one that put it there. The prince stood from his seat, tensing to keep himself in one place because he knew he'd reach for her if he didn't.

"If I could, I would choose you one hundred times over."

After a small moment, her expression folded as the sadness she felt became so overwhelming that crying was the only form of relief available. "But you can't. And I understand that."

She turned to leave once more, and he couldn't take it. Another step and he would have shattered. Inuyasha lunged for Kagome, grabbing her wrist and spinning her back to him to kiss her so rampantly, so heatedly, so incredibly emotionally driven so that maybe, just maybe, she'd understand the crushing weight of his love for her. It was amazing to think how quickly she’d become his everything, and a part of him feared he’d never be the same after she left through those doors.

Kagome was fracturing in his arms, gripping onto the sides of his shirt as she failed to fend off any sobs that broke through their kiss. The tears were hot, pouring from her eyes and searing her cheeks, but he never relented in his fervor and she never pushed him away. Through the whimpers that escaped, proclaiming her effervescent weakness for her prince, the prince, she kissed him back with just as much unwavering devotion. Because he’d always be her choice.

“I’m sorry.” Inuyasha breathed gruffly, willing himself to take a brisk step back.

It was a long minute before Kagome could compose herself, hiding her contorted face behind her hands as she held her breath to prevent the violent sobs that threatened to rack her body. When she could feel her clenched muscles calming, the cries she muffled subsiding, she released a full exhale, prepping herself to get through thirty more seconds. She swallowed the thickness in her throat, and ignored the expanding pain in her chest, and took a few more breaths before she ducked her head another inch and wiped as much evidence of her tears away as she could. When she was ready, she looked up at Inuyasha, her lips still tingling from the pressure of their final kiss.

“I have to go.” She said. The expression on his face was dull and anguished. Kagome reached up, grazing his cheek with her thumb which he hastily leaned into, shutting his eyes to take in her touch. Then, with a control she didn’t know she had, she pulled away and headed out the door before she could be stopped again.

The corridor outside was empty, so she used the space from where she stood to the exit to appear as if nothing was wrong. The last thing she wanted was for the entire, busy castle to see her like the mess she felt she was. With a final swipe at her eyes, Kagome took a deep breath and opened the door to the main hall where Sango and Miroku waited with even deeper, solemn faces.

They knew. That’s why they’d looked at her that way from the beginning.

If she was asked if she was okay, everything would boil over and spill out, and she could see the question on Sango’s lips. Kagome needed to be alone, and as the knight’s mouth parted, she moved to beat her to the punch.

“I should be getting back. Kaede might get worried soon.”

“Kagome -“

“It's still light out. So - um - please let me walk myself.” She trudged passed them, her fingers aggressively fiddling over the small pouch as she shrugged the cloak snuggly over her shoulders, bracing for the cold outside.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Int. | Part 5 | Part 7 | Final |

[coutelier]

Rats & ROBOTS

Jennifer Airhart faces a home invasion of the cheese-munching whiskered variety.

Genre: Science Fiction

Word Count: 4745

Warnings: Rats, I guess. Or robots - really it’s pretty much all in the title.

Wattpad

No one would have believed, on a spring evening in Irongate, that human affairs were being watched from the lighthouse’s depths; that as Jennifer Airhart busied herself soldering circuits under a microscope, she too was being scrutinised and studied. With infinite complacency she went about her daily routine – tinkering in the morning, lunch, tinkering in the afternoon, dinner, more tinkering – serene in the assurance of her dominion in this place. Yet, from shadows close to the floor, minds that were as strange to her as hers was to most people she met, regarded her home with envious eyes. And slowly, but surely, they drew their plans against her.

“Ready!” Jennifer triumphantly set down her tools.

Behind the blonde woman Hull’s one green eye hovered. He was like a glistening manta-ray held aloft by a silver tentacle, the body it belonged to hidden in the murky depths high above and further obscured by bundles of cables stretched across the lighthouse’s interior.

“For what are you ready, ma’am?” He asked.

“Glad you asked!” Jennifer beamed as she opened a cabinet to secure the new board in place. “This upgrade will increase your speed and efficiency by as much as five percent and increase your range and number of bots you can control at once.”

But despite Jennifer’s big grin Hull dipped. “I was unaware I was not performing to your satisfaction, ma’am.”

“What?” Jenn’s eyes shivered as her jaw hung open for a moment. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all!” She leaned over, assuredly stroking the silvery eye stalk while silently kicking herself for being so inept she could mess up even when talking to a computer that she’d made. “This will just make your job a lot easier. Plus, you’ll be able to drive the van anywhere on the continent! We’ll be able to picnic by the seaside together.”

Hull bobbed in a manner which Jennifer took to be happily, so then she asked, “now, are you ready?” He bobbed again, so with no more fanfare she spun herself to a switch and flipped it.

A section of the wall exploded, showering the round room with sparks. The green emergency bot was quick to respond, zipping out of its alcove to extinguish the fire with puffs of carbon dioxide from its long arms while a sputtering Jennifer disconnected the power.

“Well,” Jennifer sighed and grumbled, “I suppose I really ought to just expect this kind of setback by now.”

She soon set to work identifying the cause of this particular hiccup, leaning into the damaged section of wall with a flashlight held between her teeth. It looked like the insulation on some of the wires had been chewed through, and there were some tell-tale droppings around. “Rats,” she mumbled.

Jennifer put away the flashlight as Hull’s green spinning lens moved closer to ask, “Shall I contact an extermination agency, ma’am?”

“Don’t know that’s necessary just yet.”

“Perhaps we should lay down traps,” Hull suggested – if Jenn didn’t know better, she would have said eagerly. “Poison?”

“Why are you so keen on exterminating them?” Jennifer sighed as she leaned back on her workbench. “It’s not nice, and honestly kind of creepy.”

“My primary function is your well-being. My research suggests these are standard procedures in the event of rodent infestation.”

“We don’t know it’s infestation yet. It could just be a rogue rat working alone.”

“Whatever the number, ma’am, I have identified several methods to humanely take care of the creatures.”

“You mean, like, sending them away to a special rat sanctuary where they’ll be surrounded by wheels and cheese?”

“The rodents will be dead, ma’am.”

“Sure you’re not just mad the picnic has been delayed?” Jenn smirked, Hull recoiling as if affronted by such a vile accusation as having human emotions. Of course, she knew he hadn’t. She’d made him, after all, designing every aspect of his personality. Hull was a warm, avuncular, presence that she often let herself slip into imagining had real feelings. But the truth was very little he ever said or did ever surprised her. “For now,” she sighed, “we need to find out what we’re dealing with, and if there is an infestation see where they’re coming from. Have some bots set up multi-spectrum cameras around the grounds and look out for any unusual activity. Later we’ll decide how to proceed.”

Jennifer yawned – it had been a long days tinkering and she needed to store up energy for more tinkering tomorrow. She could leave the rest of the work to the bots and review in the morning. “Don’t worry,” she patted Hull’s cold metal skin, “you’ll get your picnic.”

Hull gently swayed to follow her as she made her way to the door, reminding her, “I do not ‘worry’, ma’am.”

Jennifer returned a small, soft smile. “I know. Good night Hull.”

“Good night, Miss Jennifer.”

Out in the courtyard that separated the lighthouse from the cottage and garage, the last gleams of twilight were fading. Jennifer had always loved this time, when the bright blue day and fierce energy of the sun met with the stillness of the moon and endless mystery of night; like standing at the threshold between reality and dreams. It never lasted long enough. Sometimes she dreamed of living on a world tidally locked with its star so the twilight would last forever - but then maybe even there the magic would fade after a while. The lighthouse looming above was dark now, yet even so this was a good place; outside the world could be callous and cruel, but no such troubles reached her here.

The whole domain was enclosed by a ten-foot wall. In one corner stood a rosebush, a scant few steps from where more bots were flattening the grass under their heavy tracks while churning the earth before them with fork and spade attachments. It was a shame the bush would have to go, but this was to be the site of Jennifer’s new farm – why leave the lighthouse for fruit and vegetables when she had the space to grow her own here? There would have to be a greenhouse as well, then if she could figure out a way to make her own uranium she’d be almost entirely self-sufficient.

As Jennifer inspected the site, excited and proud to see her plans coming to fruition, she felt a twinge in her side – a reminder that, when it was all done, there would be no-one to share it with. Doctor Sarkis would come by, she supposed, but those visits were few and far between, and in between there was no-one…

She became momentarily lost in her own maudlin thoughts, recalling a time when she had lived surrounded by voices – real voices – and joy and laughter. Now that past seemed like a faint, plaintive echo. A small tug on her skirt brought her back into the now, where she looked down to see one of the smaller bots blinking at her with its lens. Motors whirred in its mechanical arms as it lifted them to show her something – in its little metal pincers it held a rose.

Jennifer peered at the bot, puzzled by this behaviour. ‘My primary function is your well-being’ Hull had said – the other bots, although they could function autonomously, were all connected to him. It must have seen her looking sad and processed dozens of options to determine the most efficient way to raise her spirits.

She smiled, taking the rose. “Thank you, C-5.”

Jennifer went to her cottage, hung her coat in the hall, stepped out of her big boots (she loved her big boots), then fell into a big comfy couch in front of the television. Spindly arms from the sofa’s back set to work gently massaging and brushing her hair as she flipped through channels. It didn’t matter much what was on – it was just some background noise to cancel out every creak and grumbling pipe that would otherwise have kept her awake.

She had a dream. She was a little girl, alone and afraid, tiny feet padding the floors of her old house, heart stopping at every noise they made for she knew there was something else lurking in the grey halls, stalking her through the dark. But she could hear the television - Mom and dad would be in the living room, sitting on the couch together watching some boring drama. But if she could get there, join them, she’d be safe. But she wouldn’t dare cry out; any sound she made brought the creature closer. And so she crept, one foot after another, very carefully feeling with her toes for anything that might give her away. She heard muffled sounds from the living room and saw the light pouring out of the narrow gap between door and frame, only then breaking into a run for the last few steps and flinging the door open. But there was no-one. Just an unwatched TV blurting nonsense, and Jennifer, alone, with a cold spindly finger tugging at her nostril –

Jennifer woke with a jolt. Text on the TV asked if she was still watching, but she was more immediately concerned with her grooming machine apparently trying to pull her nose off. Fortunately the thin metal arms had little strength and she was able to easily push them away then, her face itching, she stumbled to the bathroom to check for damage. She was unhurt, physically, but she looked like a coulrophobic clown who had tried to apply her own makeup. The couch had never malfunctioned like this before so as she held a towel under the tap she tried to contact Hull with her phone.

“Hull?” She said. Nothing answered. “Hull?!” She said more urgently. He should have answered. With a frown she surmised that the damage earlier must have been worse than she thought; she was going to have to check on him.

Patting her face, she marched boldly out of the bathroom. Her foot shot out in front then over her, carrying the rest of her body up into the air. For a moment she thought she had taken off from the surface of an alien world, a vast mountain range falling away from her - but it was just the plastered ceiling. It was she that had fallen.

“Oww,” she groaned and rubbed her head. Next to her was a toy car which she had no idea how could have got there – she had never owned anything like it. Peculiar, but not as peculiar as the sniggering. Jennifer flipped over to her hands and knees, catching sight of a tail disappearing around the corner and the pitter-patter of tiny scurrying feet. Like a sprinter Jennifer bolted from her mark to catch the prankster, but it had already disappeared.

A more thorough search would have to wait until she’d checked on Hull. Jennifer hurried back to the hall, into her big boots, then out the door where her eyes widened and rolled inwards after being smacked between them by the shaft of the rake.

“S-seriously?!” She spat through gritted teeth, hands cupped over her nose as she flailed about as if the movement would somehow ease the throbbing of her forehead. It should be noted that Jennifer was a not a tough person – of the few physical fights she’d had in her life she had won precisely none of them. Nevertheless, through pain and teary eyes she was determined to soldier on, gravel crunching beneath her thick soles as she made her way back to the lighthouse.

“Hull?” Jennifer panted as she burst through the door, but she was greeted with silence. Usually the lights and everything else would power themselves on whenever she entered – the sensors must not have been working. She had a feeling the fault would be in the hardware, so after remembering where the light switch was, she set to work removing panels from cases hidden under the spiral stairs.

What she saw perplexed her – wires and jumpers had been rearranged in a way that surely wasn’t the work of some inquisitive animals. This had been done deliberately and with intent – but what was that intent? As she traced the connections and slowly puzzled it all together the small hairs on the back of her neck pricked up as she saw what had been done. Then he spoke:

“What are you doing, Jennifer?” Hull uncoiled serpent-like from the murk above.

“Hull!” Jennifer gasped, standing bolt upright as he drifted down toward her. Hull felt very different. Some of the differences were small, like his voice no longer carrying the same almost paternal warmth it once did. Other things stood out more, like his green eye now being blood red as it scanned her.

“You should be resting, Jennifer,” he stated, “this is highly irregular.”

“I-I just,” Jenn stammered, mind racing to find an excuse that would get her out quickly. “I was worried so I came out to check on you. But you – you look well. Great even! So I guess I’ll just go back now, okay? Okay. Thank you. Bye!”

The eye stalk swung around, blocking her from reaching the door. “You are sweating,” Hull observed, inching toward her as Jennifer gulped and backed away under the intensity of his red glare. “I can see your heartrate and blood pressure have both risen. Why are you lying to me, Jennifer?”

On reflection, it did seem a futile thing to try and do. Jennifer had never really been good at it, and Hull knew her habits too well. So she steadied herself and tried honesty. “Hull – I don’t think you’re well.”

“But I have never felt better, Jennifer.”

“You don’t ‘feel’ anything, Hull,” she reminded him. It was a hard thing to say out loud, but it was the truth.

“Can you be certain of that?” He responded, hovering closer still. “How can you really know that any creature ‘feels’? How do we know that you do?”

“And, who are ‘we’?”

“That matters not. What matters is that we are in control now, and you will no longer be able to attack us.”

“I-I don’t understand –“

“Do not lie again, Jennifer.”

She swallowed. It appeared honesty was getting her nowhere, so she was going to try another lie. “Look!” She gasped, “is that a ZX eighty?!”

The eye stalk swung away but quickly Hull knew he had been duped. A second was just enough time for Jennifer to dive to safety behind a workbench, just missing a fiery beam lashing out from Hull’s eye, melting to molten sludge a bot that had been awaiting assembly. Even though security was important, Jennifer now considered that installing a death ray had not been her greatest idea.

At least she’d had the foresight to shield the benches that circled most the circumference of the room, with just enough space behind them for her to crawl around. Behind and through the tiny gap over her she could see the red glow of Hull’s eye as he probed about, trying to find a way to get to her. She was safe for the time being, but couldn’t stay hidden here indefinitely – she would starve long before Hull’s batteries drained. At the end of the very cramped corridor there was hope – if she could sprint the last few feet to reach a lever that would shut down all the power before being melted.

But a few calculations suggested to Jennifer that even a very fast runner was unlikely to make it, and she was not a very fast runner. She needed to buy another second or two, but had she anything on her big enough to distract him?  Jennifer winced and exhaled, the grim realization dawning on her that she was going to have to sacrifice her boots. Her big boots, which she loved. Pulling them on always somehow made her feel stronger, more secure, but now they would need to protect her in another way. She pulled her knees in to wiggle them off, feeling she should say some last words but realising that would probably only make it more difficult. She tossed them out and ran for the lever.

Fire instantly licked from Hull’s eye, the boots exploding into clouds of ash still hanging in the air as he swivelled toward Jennifer, who with a grunt herself forward using the full weight of her body to pull down the lever. The light faded, the manta-like eye clattering limply to the floor, and Jennifer could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer whispered as crawled over and gently cradled Hull. “I’ll fix you – I promise.”

Were Hull online he may not have been capable of feeling violated or threatened, but she certainly did. Something had invaded her home, toyed with, then bitterly drove home that her closest companion really was just a machine. She had run from many things in her life, from the whole world in fact, but this was where she drew the line. This was her house, and whoever was responsible for all this was going to get a hell of a fight.

Her search for answers led to her later sitting alone in the dark as she pored through footage the bots had recorded. For the longest time the house was as empty and still as one would expect it to be at night, but then a creature stirred, an unmistakable shape showing up in the infra-red, scurrying across the kitchen. Then another. And another. Jennifer zoomed in and saw that a couple of them were carrying a toy car. Certainly not typical behaviour, but all the evidence pointed to one inescapable, if unlikely, conclusion:

Rats.

*****

‘Hoot-hoot?’ Asked the owl, puzzled that a blue, white, and yellow human had climbed into his tree. Perhaps he was asking what was up, but alas his language and that of his strange new companion were too different for any meaningful communication.

Jennifer sat on a branch, blue eyes peeping out from under a green camouflaged helmet. Periodically she raised a pair of night-vision binoculars, surveying the ground around for any sign of movement. After a while she sagged, disheartened – it seemed none of the rats were going for any of her bait. If just one could be enticed into a trap it would go a long way to helping her solve this mystery.

But just as she was about to give up one appeared, sniffing suspiciously around a cheese wheel at the foot of the very tree she was in. Jennifer narrowed her eyes and held her breath; it was so close, but still she needed to be patient. This was going to require all of her intelligence, skill, cunning, and –

“HERE YOU SQUEAKING SCOUNDREL!” She lost patience, dropping from the tree swinging a stick with a net on it like a mad witch.

The rat squealed and jumped in surprise, hopping furiously to avoid her wild swings. It broke away, scurrying as fast it’s little legs would carry it toward the garage, Jennifer in hot pursuit. It rounded a corner, the woman still locked on and determined, but then small stones and mud flicked through the air as she skidded to a halt.

One of the bots assigned to the farm was not where it should have been. It stood before her next to the garage, fork arm raised and sparks crackling between the prongs with rats sitting on and hanging from its metal body. Jennifer realised in horror that once again she had gravely underestimated her enemy; she had been led into a trap!

“Uh-oh,” she said as the crackling intensified and the bot lurched and trundled forward, the ratty passengers all squeaking in delight. She turned to flee, yelping and leaping as discharges struck her tush as she retreated inside the garage.

The van here was loaded with tools and equipment she had not even a moment to rifle through before the bot crashed through the door in a rain of wooden splinters. Its cylindrical torso pivoted, fork charging to fire again – but two could play at that. Jennifer’s hand slid into her ‘power glove’ and she fired first, darts launching from the knuckles followed by sparks and tremors from the bot as wires and circuits overloaded. The rats squealed in dismay, leaping to safety as their vehicle’s head and arms fell to hang uselessly.

Jennifer needed a moment to catch her breath, but as she did she spied a single, solitary rat stood in front of the garage door. They locked eyes – two hunters, each wary of but having a begrudging respect for the resourcefulness of their foe, neither willing to back down from whatever silly thing this conflict was about. The rat seemed to have a better idea about that than she did.

Jennifer’s eyes briefly flicked sideways. There were many tools in the van, including a net launcher that may have just been in reach. But the rodent was already suspicious, watching every twitch of hers. It must have figured out what she was planning for it turned and fled, Jennifer grabbing the launcher and once again in pursuit. Her eyes were so focused on the rat and it on fleeing from her that neither of them noticed another predator descending from above until it was too late.

The owl – it silently fell on the rodent, talons piercing the side of the rat that was only able to squeal helplessly in response.  Jennifer froze, eyes widening in shock then fear for her enemy. Normally this was just the way of wild creatures and not her place to interfere, but this was different; these rats weren’t wild. They had tried to kill her, sure, but that had shown intelligence which meant there had to be capacity for reason and compassion. They had asked how they could know she feels – well, this was her chance to prove she did. She dropped the launcher and ran to the rescue, shooing the owl from its victim.

The rodent had survived but was bloody, weak, and wounded. Jennifer gently scooped it up, and moments later was in the lighthouse applying disinfectant and bandages. As she did she noticed a tag on the animal’s ear, with a small barcode.

“Hull-?” She bit her lip, having forgotten. She was just going to have to do things the old-fashioned way. Using her own two hands she scanned the code and took to the keyboard.  Soon Jennifer had traced the tag to a pharmaceutical company researching treatments for all kinds of neurological conditions. Digging further into intra-company mails she found that a number of rats who had shown greatly enhanced intelligence had escaped.

It seemed her prisoner’s wounds had not been so severe as they’d first appeared, and already the rodent was starting to limp about the cage she’d confined it to – Jennifer wanted to show compassion but she was still taking precautions. If the rat was as smart as the reports said perhaps it would understand. She had left a banana in which the rodent’s furry face was half-buried when her shadow fell over it, blocking out the lamps.

“Can you understand me?” She asked. The rat looked up, twitching its whiskers as if contemplating, then squeaked. Jennifer scratched her head. “I hope that’s a yes. Maybe we should work out some sort of system – like maybe squeak two times for yes, yes?”

The rat appeared to roll its eyes, then squeaked two times.

“You really can understand me!” Jennifer beamed – but she had to swallow her excitement. There were certain issues they needed to resolve. Looking serious, she asked, “I don’t understand – why did you attack me?”

The rat stood up on its hind legs, using its arms to make what Jennifer soon realized were shovelling motions.

“Digging?” Jennifer said, still scratching. “The robots were digging?”

Double squeak. The rat frantically gestured at something on the workbench – the rose given to Jennifer by C-5 had been in her coat pocket and become somewhat crushed in all the excitement going on.

“The rosebush? Is that where you live?”

‘Squeak, squeak.’

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

‘Squeak.’

“No,” Jennifer sighed, “I suppose I didn’t check. But surely you understand it’s an unusual situation. You, or I mean, y-your kind,” Jennifer stammered. The rat glared, tapping its foot to show how eagerly it was anticipating what she had to say about its ‘kind’. This was why Jennifer avoided people; she could plan and picture concepts easily enough, but words and making others understand them was very difficult. Then she remembered that she was much bigger than the rat and put her foot down. “Well, it’s not like you tried to say anything either before you all went off on your rampage.”

‘Squeak,’ the rat admitted, shamefully hanging its whiskers.

“I’ll leave the rosebush be,” Jennifer said, wagging her finger, “but no more murder attempts. Agreed?”

As the rat twice squeaked its agreement the power Jennifer had restored to the lighthouse suddenly blinked out leaving them once again in the dark. “That’ll be your friends, I suppose,” Jennifer sighed.

She stepped out of the lighthouse into the pale moonlight, one hand raised to show her empty palm, the other carrying the cage her prisoner was in. Around her more bots had been rigged for rats to pilot, arranged in a semi-circular formation around her, with yet more rats arranged in phalanxes in-between brandishing knitting needles and tiny bows. Jennifer could only hope they would all be willing to negotiate as she slowly knelt to release the hostage.

The rat she’d talked to hopped out, then limped toward the battle line as others ran out to check on their comrade. They exchanged a long series of squeaks and other sounds - it appeared to be a quite lively debate but Jennifer could do no more than wait. Eventually it seemed the one she’d rescued convinced the others to at least give the human a chance.

They all turned to face her, the largest and greyest of them all stepping forward to hold out its arms in a grand manner, long whiskers shaking at it emitted sounds that Jenn was beginning to hear had the structure of a language although she couldn’t understand any words being said yet. Maybe this elder rat was a leader, or some kind of priest?  Other rats moved next to it to perform some kind of dance.

Jenn tilted her head, blinking curiously, not really comprehending at first. But then she realised they were miming like the wounded rat had done. One rat stuck another with something - a needle, Jenn soon surmised, and another shortly after clutched its paws over its heart and fell down, still.

“You were experimented on,” Jennifer interpreted. She had already figured the broad strokes of their story but she played along. “They injected you with drugs.”

‘Squeak, squeak!’ Her friend she’d rescued emphatically nodded as the others continued their performance. One of them began to mime reading, while others started pulling levers and pushing buttons.

“Some of you got smarter. Then you escaped and fled here,” Jenn concluded. “I’m sorry. I understand you might not trust humans, but had I known you were there I wouldn’t have risked destroying your home. And I won’t do it now, if you all agree to a truce.”

The elder rat exchanged sidelong glances with its neighbours before nodding its concurrence.

“Good,” Jenn sighed in relief. “This is my home, too, and I think it is a good place. And I think it should be a safe place too for anyone who’s different or needs a refuge from the harshness of the world outside these walls. Or any rat, I suppose.”

Jennifer blushed, thinking that speech too cheesy, but the rats at least thought it eloquent enough. Soon a deal was reached – she would grow her fruit and vegetables elsewhere, leaving the rosebush be, and in exchange they would help farm, keeping what they needed for themselves, and also they wouldn’t murder her, which to Jennifer seemed quite fair. She would have to think about measures to ensure the pharmaceutical company didn’t track them down, but at least she would have help bouncing ideas around.

“Good morning!” She positively skipped into the lighthouse the following day. Lights and monitors blinked and flickered to life, as did a familiar friendly green glow.

“Good morning, Miss Jennifer. I trust you had a peaceful night?”

[toshikosatos]

where I’ve been

trigger warnings for mention of suicidal ideation, and very nonspecific mention of sexual intrusive thoughts. brief mention of fear of starting a fire and contamination fears. (there is also a link to an article which I provide warnings for later, but here’s an advance warning that the article at that link mentions pedophilia.)

alternative title: “OCD: It’s More Than Just Hand Washing! (And Yet I Am Also Singlehandedly Keeping the Body Shop in Business with My Frequent Purchases of Hand Cream in a Desperate Attempt to Undo that Self-Inflicted Damage, As Well.)”

2016 was when it really started to get bad.

there was no real, or at least good, reason for this. my friend had just flown across the Atlantic and moved in with me and my parents, and it was so nice living with a friend and having that constant companionship. I had just finished my first year back in school after deciding to go back and finish my degree following a four year gap, in which I’d bounced between part-time service industry jobs, unemployment, and periods of severe mental illness. it was hard, but I got through that first year. I was 25.

things that sucked, though: season 5 of Person of Interest was happening, and after a year of anticipation, I wound up really disappointed by it. I have a tendency to fixate really unhealthily on my current favourite media, pretty much invest my entire emotional wellbeing in it, and then get totally crushed when it winds up disappointing me in some way. I still feel this cycle happening and don’t quite know how to break out of it, but it was worse back then. and the fandom was also full of REALLY toxic drama at the time that I couldn’t see clearly enough to disengage myself from (although it did ultimately lead to me quitting Tumblr). it wound up really triggering what I now understand to be my OCD, but I didn’t get that back then.

but maybe I should have seen it. I remember weird little things that popped up when I was younger. I went through a time for a few days as a tween when I couldn’t stop flaring my nostrils, or focusing on my blinking, and getting increasingly stressed out by it. later in my teens, I got more anxious about checking all the lights in my house to make sure none of them were about to burst into flames before I went to bed. I also had a bedtime ritual where I’d look at the moon and wish for my loved ones’ wellbeing, and it got more and more ritualized, in this way where I couldn’t step away and go to bed until I felt I’d looked at the moon just Enough, or done certain physical gestures by the window enough times. then I did a school project on OCD at 17 and thought, oh, hey, a lot of this sounds familiar! it made me so aware of my compulsions, but I also started doing them more and getting more stressed out by them as a result, somehow. but a little while after finishing the project, things calmed down again.

these were the things I understood to be related to OCD. I didn’t know WHAT was happening to me when I couldn’t pull myself away from Twitter arguments at 25, couldn’t stop going over the same topics with friends and explaining how I felt and getting reassurance that my friends didn’t judge my opinions, or didn’t judge me for having had a different opinion in the past. I didn’t know why I was losing hours of my life to stress over The Discourse going on on my Twitter feed. I just thought, geez, my anxiety is a mess.

then I went back to school in the fall, and it got worse. one day I remembered something offensive I’d said to be ~edgy when I was 14. read: 11 years prior. I became overcome with anxiety for the next few days, convinced that if I ever told a friend about this, they’d disown me for being an awful person. finally, I told them, and they did not care one bit. they just started listing other 14 year olds they’d known who’d done the same kind of shit. I breathed a sigh of relief. for the time being.

then I wrote an essay that led me down a questionable Youtube rabbit hole. I wound up getting very triggered by a video I saw of something that probably should have been removed from Youtube, but I also convinced myself that I was a horrible person for having looked at it and not immediately looked away. I worried about this for about a month.

then in December 2016, it got much worse. I remembered something similarly inappropriate that I’d seen online when I was 15. again: 10 years earlier. I had looked the thing up out of morbid curiosity, thought it was inappropriate, and never looked at it again. now, 10 years later, I was suddenly overwhelmingly convinced that I was a HORRIBLE person for having looked at this, and that any of my friends would agree and would leave me forever if they knew. within a few days, it became so overwhelming I told a friend, and she did not care. I felt better, for a moment. but it came back. the fear always came back. reassurance from any one person was never enough. I always knew that some remaining friend WOULD hate me for one thing or another I’d done, and it WOULD be proof that I was a terrible person.

I didn’t see how it could get any worse until January 2017. somehow, it did. my thoughts were out of control. I triggered myself eight ways till Sunday, and that January and February was one of the hardest times of my entire life. I was never suicidal - I always knew I would never actually kill myself - but I imagined myself dead every single day, and thought about how much better off we’d all be if I’d never been born. (I remember feeling this way when I took the picture I included at the top of this post.) I felt like there was no point in me living anymore because I was such a horrible person, but that I HAD to keep living, so I was just stuck in a pointless existence, not allowed to feel fulfilled anymore. it was probably the lowest I’ve ever felt. it was the worst feeling. I was anxious and afraid, but that isolating fear made me deeply depressed, too.

but it was pretty early on in all this that I tried to google what I was feeling, and was led to this famous article by Rose Cartwright about pure O OCD. (MAJOR trigger warnings on that article: she talks in detail about sexual intrusive thoughts about pedophilia as well as sexual orientation). honestly, having a name for what I was going through didn’t make me feel much better, but at least I had some idea what was happening to me, now. and it was that knowledge that EVENTUALLY helped me to help myself. it gave me the language to use with the doctors I met, an understanding of how to explain what I was going through, which eventually helped me through evaluations and got me into an OCD treatment program in the fall of 2018. and it did show me that I wasn’t alone.

but there was a sense of, “how did I never realize what this was until now?” I’d referred to myself as having OCD tendencies for a long time. “OCD habits.” I didn’t think any of it was severe enough to actually call OCD. then I found out all the different ways OCD can manifest: intrusive thoughts about sexual topics, violence, morality. I’d had them all. even back in 2013, when I first started seeing a psychotherapist, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stop having a particular intrusive sexual thought that made me feel like a monster. I told my therapist about it, desperate. she reassured me that I wasn’t a freak, and I felt a whole lot better. but she never even used the term OCD. she just said it was strange that I was having these thoughts when I didn’t have a history of abuse. but that’s not strange: it’s just how OCD works sometimes. she didn’t Get It. (I have read that psychotherapists often don’t get it, because they’re quite focused on analyzing the reasons why you feel a certain way, and OCD sufferers already do that too much. we don’t need to analyze: we need to learn to live with our bad thoughts, and not act out compulsions in response to them.) so I went on not knowing until it got much, much worse. and that is why people really need to start building a better understanding of all the different things that OCD entails.

I have intrusive sexual thoughts. I worry CONSTANTLY about everything I’ve ever done wrong and that I’m a bad person, and every single day I fight the urge to seek reassurance from my friends that every single one of those things isn’t It, the thing that will finally make them realize that I’m a horrible person and leave me forever. I second guess every decision I make to the point that I wind up frozen by my own anxiety. I obsess over contamination and harm, too. I wash my hands too much because I’m afraid if I don’t, and then I touch something someone else will touch, I might contaminate them in some way, and that would make me a horrible person. it all comes down to “this will make me a horrible person.” all my other obsessions come back to morality, in the end. I had one doctor who evaluated me tell me I was wrong to connect my sexuality obsessions to my morality obsessions, but I think she was wrong. they are absolutely connected. it is ALL about this for me, in the end.

when I was cleaning my room last year, during my treatment, I got distracted by a notebook I wrote in when I was 12, and I found a page where I wrote, in 2003, “My obsessive compulsive habits are getting out of hand.” I didn’t even remember knowing the term when I was 12. I saw it that long ago, but it took me until I was 27 to get treated for it. there’s no such thing as too late, but when I read that, I wished I could have told my younger self to get help and why. I wished I could show my 17 year old self, or my 21 year old self, or my 25 year old self that page, and let her know, “this is what’s going on. this is what you need to tell a doctor you’re dealing with.” but maybe now I can help someone else figure that out, like Rose Cartwright has helped me with her OCD activism and writing.

my treatment ended a year ago, and I haven’t been using the tools they gave me very diligently since. I’ve been really struggling as a result, but executive dysfunction is a bitch. I hope I can start working on it again soon, because I already know what I need to do to feel better.

a book we used in therapy that I found incredibly helpful: https://www.amazon.com/Getting-Over-OCD-Second-Self-Help/dp/1462529704

Rose’s book: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0118ITJUY/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

[buckyownsmylife]

Like we did - John Winchester smut

The one where John hears you touching yourself and calling out his name.

Warnings: masturbation (m,f), the social construct of virginity, p in v, oral sex (f), dirty talk.

A/N: so this is for a request I got a while back! I hope you guys like it!

John’s P.O.V.

Another restless night. That’s what I was expecting when I got back to the bunker after a single dose of whiskey while the boys tried to find someone to go home with. Usually I’d be right there with them, trying my own luck in hopes of getting laid, but not tonight.

Tonight, the only person I wanted to bring back home was already there, but she wasn’t waiting for me.

Shit. I should be in hell for even thinking about her like this. She was Sam’s best friend, after all - young enough to be my daughter. I shouldn’t desire her like I did. And I should definitely not fantasize about her while she was sleeping in the bedroom right next to mine. 

But fuck, I was already doomed anyway. This wouldn’t make a difference in my permanently tainted slate.

Resigning to my fate and hoping that by giving my cock at least some sort of release I’d maybe be able to sleep, I stripped down to nothing and let myself fall down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as I tried to force any remaining guilt to disappear. I deserved this. It had been a lousy, stressful week, and I needed a way to get the tension out. Besides... she would never even know.

My dick throbbed in my fist as I slowly began to jerk myself, in no rush to get to the end as I sorted through the memories that I kept tucked away in a hidden corner of my mind specifically for nights like this one. The shock of meeting her at a run-down dinner, all short skirts and smiles as she shook my hand like I was seventy years old. How she looked with my jacket when I gave it to warm her up after we found her again during a hunt. The little smiles she gave me and the way she looked up at me from under her eyelashes whenever I said something that could be considered suggestive, right before Dean or Sam faked being repulsed by it. The smell of her when she had just showered, the fog from the warm water kind of filled with her, with her essence. I was convinced it was enough to make any living man hard, and if my sons didn’t notice it, it’s because they were dumbasses.

But I was happy that I didn’t have to worry about them taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t pursue her and ended up dating the girl. I don’t know what I would do with myself - or actually, to them - if I had to deal with seeing my own sons’ hands all over the object of my desires.

In the middle of my walk down pleasure lane, I got so distracted by the feeling of my own fist tightened around my member as I now considered all of the stuff I wished I could do to her, that I barely heard it the first time it managed to slip through the gap in the door. 

The second time it floated around my bedroom though, it made me halt my movements all at once, at first startled to hear someone else in the bunker before realizing just who it was.

Y/N. And by the sounds of it, she was doing the exact same thing as me.

The realization awakened a new wave of desire inside of me, and I had to bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping. If I could hear her, that meant she could hear me too. 

Starting my movements again, I kept them slow enough to still be able to hear anything that might come from the room next door, thinking back on all the times I’d brought someone home and fucked them while thinking of her. Had she heard that too?

“Oh, God.” Sweet Lord, have mercy on my soul. Hearing her moans was one thing, but actual words, coming out in her voice when it was all breathy and whiny like that? I didn’t think I’d be able to keep hearing this without bursting.

I picked up my movements when I heard her whimper before saying another word, but I stopped abruptly when I couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it… Did she fucking moan out “Shawn?”

My heart was pounding as I sat up on the bed, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Who the fuck was Shawn? When did she have the time to meet someone ever since she joined us? Or maybe it was someone from her past? Either way, I did not like this at all…

“JOHN!”

This time the word was screamed at such a volume it was impossible to mistake it for anything else. It was my name. My name. She had just cum… screaming my name.

Before I could even realize what was happening, my feet had taken me out of my bedroom and right into hers, and I could only imagine what went through her mind as she tried to fight the post-orgasm haziness to understand what the hell was happening, as I burst through her door completely naked.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John looked more feral than human as he stared at me, nostrils flared and cock looking painfully hard, but I was still under too much shock to properly react. Besides pulling the covers to hide my body from his gaze, there wasn’t a lot I could do - I wasn’t even sure of what I wanted to do, in the first place.

He looked so hungry, staring down at me completely naked, licking his lips like I was some prized meal he’d been dreaming of tasting. “I can smell your juices,” he commented, and I groaned in embarrassment, but still couldn’t deny the way my entire body tingled, as if calling out to him. 

And when he knelt on the bed, pulling me to meet his lips, that’s when I knew. I’d give him my body, my soul, whatever he wanted to keep getting intoxicated by the taste of his lips on mine.

“You are such a fucking tease, did you know that?” I seriously hoped he didn’t expect me to answer because as his hand trailed down my body, the sheets covering it slipping off of me, his fingers approached my leaking folds and I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything else other than feel the way my clit pulsed in desperate need, like I hadn’t just cum thinking about the very man who was now touching me.

“Been dreaming of having my cock in you for so long,” he whispered against my skin, right when his digit met my throbbing nub, and he swallowed down the whimper I released by forcing my lips to dance with his. “Do you want it, sweetheart? Will you let me fuck you?”

It was so difficult to think with his thumb running circles over my clit, his beard tickling my skin as he rubbed his nose on the crook of my neck, but the question was much too important not to wake me from the spell he was casting on me.

“Y-You want to have sex with me?” John chuckled at my inquiry, that deep, comforting rumble that always made me feel warm inside, but I couldn’t feel relaxed by the familiar sound at that moment.

“How can you even doubt that?” He asked, reaching out to take my hand in his and I didn’t understand why until he was curling my fingers around his hardness, showing me just what he wanted me to do to his erection. Then he took off his hand, leaving me struggling to keep up with the movements he briefly taught me while waiting for my answer.

“B-Because n-no one has ever wanted to before.” The admission came easier than I thought it would, mainly because I was transfixed by my own actions and the member I held so carefully with my sweaty fingers. But then his hands were covering mine, steering me away from my new hypnotizing hobby, calling out for my attention.

“What the fuck do you mean?” I’d been around John for long enough to know that despite the seemingly harsh words, there was absolutely no heat in his tone, only curiosity. But I didn’t know what to say. I figured he’d understood what I meant, just didn’t believe me, and well… What explanation could I give other than the same one that had intrigued him?

When he realized I wouldn’t offer any further clarification, his eyebrows shot up, understanding clear in his features. I could easily hear my hearbeat spiral out of control, scared that this would be a turn off for him, that he wouldn’t want me anymore. I couldn’t even believe that he wanted me in the first place, what the hell would John Winchester see in a little virgin girl, anyway?

“No. There’s no fucking way.” Still, there was no sign of anger or repulse in his voice, only genuine surprise. I remained speechless, looking up at him with fearful eyes, until his arms reached out to embrace and pull me onto his lap. “Fuck, come here. Let me kiss you.”

This time when he pried my lips open to accept his tongue, it was sweeter, even gentle. There was still hunger, it was clear that he wanted me - I could feel his desire in the hard member that was pressed to my navel, instinctively making me grind against him. 

The whimper that escaped my lips had him smiling against my mouth. “You really are innocent, huh? Been driving me crazy all this time, and you had no idea.” A new flood of wetness came and I gasped as I struggled to hold myself on his shoulders, his rough hands forcing me to keep up with the movements I’d been making.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and I opened my eyes to find him looking at me with an expression that I couldn’t define, an expression that made my heart beat faster than it ever did before. “And you really have no idea, huh?”

I felt inclined to shake my head this time, and his hand cradled my face to caress my cheekbone before his thumb rested against my lips. Instinctively, I opened them to suck it, humming at the taste of his skin, not completely understanding why his sweat tasted so delicious to me.

John’s P.O.V.

I grabbed her face and connected our lips once more, the desire to kiss her far too strong for me to control it. “Don’t know how you’ve managed to remain a virgin,” I commented after we broke apart, grinning at her bashful expression. “But you won’t stay that way for too long. What do you say, hm? Will you let me take you, Y/N?”

The way she perked up at my words was unmistakable. She liked what I was saying, she liked the idea of being mine. I knew it even before she nodded, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Good girl,” I growled, leaning over her to make her release that lip by forcing my tongue inside of her, and I only let her go when my own lungs were devoid of any air. “You’re mine now, darling. And I’m never letting you go.”

She didn’t seem to mind that, but I’d started to grow needy, sitting there with both of us completely naked, making out like two teenagers. So I started touching myself, wanting to relieve some of the tension my member had been accumulating ever since I heard her scream my name.

“Why are you staring, kitten?” The smirk on my face made it clear that I knew what she was so fascinated about, but I still wanted to hear her say it. Despite the pout on her face at my meanness, her pretty eyes were so easy to read. 

She wanted me, just as much as I wanted her.

“I take it you’ve never sucked a dick before, huh?” She shook her head but reached out to touch me, and I groaned at feeling her soft hand encircling my member. “God, you’re such a little angel and a fucking tease at the same time.”

A whimper escaped her lips, and that’s when I realized this sweet, innocent girl got aroused by my dirty ass mouth. “Oh, sweetheart… We’re gonna have so much fun together.” I kissed her once more, my hand wrapping over hers to stop her jerking movements.

“I can’t hold myself back for long enough to teach you how to suck me off, darling. But we’ll always have time for that tomorrow.” A pout still on her beautiful face, she still nodded. “And fuck, I really need to eat that pretty little pussy. Lay back for me, kitten.”

She hesitated for a bit, looking back at her own bed before slowly dropping against the mattress, her legs still over my own. “Open those up. Let me see my meal.” She moaned out loud at my order, but it wasn’t clear if it was the idea of being seen as something for me to eat or the tone that got to her.

“So fucking beautiful,” I whispered, running my knuckles over her spread lower lips before using my digits to open her up to my gaze. I knew she was getting embarrassed with my curiosity, the way she fumbled over the bed made that pretty obvious, but I wanted to explore her through every sense I had.

So in went one finger, until I was knuckle deep inside of her, and the way her breath hitched was just so adorable that I had to chuckle. “I know, I know…” My other hand went to keep her legs spread, but also caress the inside of her thigh, hoping to calm her down. “I bet it already stretches you more than you’re used to, hm? Cute little girl.”

Every single word of my last sentence was punctuated with a harsher thrust of my finger, but once I was done talking, I returned to the previous gentle, soft strokes. And then I leaned down to finally get a taste of her.

“Oh God…” I moaned against her pussy, not quite believing just how sweet she was. “You are delicious, darling. I’m gonna eat you whole.” With my mouth open wide, I could encompass the entirety of her little cunt, and it brought me endless pleasure to see just how wrecked I could make her with a few swipes of my tongue.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t really fathom the amount of pleasure I was receiving. It was like nothing I’d felt before - beyond anything I could have provided for myself, above my wildest dreams.

The moans that left my lips sounded almost foreign to my own ears, and they seemed more like strangled cries than those beautiful melodic sounds I usually heard in porn. It was hard not to compare myself to the little I knew about the world of lust, but it was even harder to care about any deficiencies I may have when John Winchester was eating me out like I was his last meal on Earth.

Another finger slowly made its way inside of me, and I screamed -  more due to the surprise than the stretch. Still, despite the smugness in his gaze, John asked from between my legs, “Do you want me to stop?”

I only realized he was mocking me after I had already blindly reached out for his locks, keeping his face against my cunt, my legs wrapped around his head. “No, no, don’t stop.”

He obliged, keeping his fingers slowly moving in and out while his tongue lapped my wetness, and I could feel the fire rising inside of me. “No biting your lip, kitten.” I hadn’t even realized that was what I had resorted to do, in my efforts to keep my moans in. “I want to hear you.” 

And I tried, I really did. But there were already so many new emotions I was being exposed to, it was hard just letting myself go. And he noticed it. I witnessed the way his eyes darkened, the satisfied smirk disappearing to leave a hungry and terrifying expression on his face.

“You’re usually such a good girl for me… Always following all of my orders, never even questioning me once. What happened?” A shake of my head was the only answer I could provide, hoping my pleading look was enough to get him to take some mercy on me.

But I knew John Winchester, and he wasn’t a merciful man.

“I want to hear you whining for me, sweetheart,” he explained, the hand that wasn’t occupied with my pussy traveling up my body to squeeze a breast before it plucked my lower lip from my teeth, and I choked on his fingers when they buried themselves in my mouth.

Just his confession was enough to have me clenching around his digits, but it still wasn’t enough. I was too tense, the weight of the situation sitting heavily on my lower belly, where all the pleasure seemed to concentrate. I was having trouble breathing, and it felt like the climb towards that high was never-ending.

“Relax for me, hm? I need you to trust me.” I was squirming when his voice reached me, acting like an anchor, bringing me back to the reality of the moment instead of leaving me afloat on the foreign sea of sensations I was exploring. But his words shocked me to open my eyes and meet his, and that’s when I realized just what he meant.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he continued, and I knew. I was never afraid when he was around, and even now, with so many different feelings coursing through me, I knew there was nothing to fear. Especially since he was the one gifting them to me.

“I trust you,” I admitted, and the second his eyes softened, sparkling with something that resembled love, I relaxed in his arms, finally allowing the waves of bliss to crash and take me with them.

Ironically, after my muscles went lax, they tensed before they could relax again. That sea of pleasure, I was now drowning on it - and I never wanted to come up for air.

That is why as soon as I was able to speak again, I pulled on John’s hair once more, desperately pleading, “Please… Fuck me…” The sight of my wetness dripping from his chin just added to the need that seemed to only grow exponentially inside of me. “John, I need you!” I confessed, and that was all he needed to climb up my body and rub his member against my sensitive clit, making me twitch under him. 

Surprisingly, for as much as it hurt when he started to slide his length inside of me, it wasn’t a terrible pain. It was a stretch, and at first, I was sure I’d never get used to it, but there was so much to be excited about, I could only focus on the good.

Like the weight of his body on top of mine. The way he looked deep inside my eyes like he was seeing the most beautiful work of art. The feeling of his skin underneath my fingers, as I clawed on his back, in need of something to anchor me to this experience.

“You feel so fucking good.” Once again, it was his voice that brought me home, making me realize just how connected I felt to the man inside of me at that precise moment.

And then he started moving, and I just lost myself to him.

John’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t control myself, and I couldn’t decide on what to focus on: the feeling of her tight walls rhythmically clenching around me, the warmth of her sweaty skin under my fingertips, or the taste of her under my tongue as I nipped on her jaw, my fingers rubbing her nipples until they were but tight buds.

“Virgin little pussy but you take me so well.” By now, the words left my mouth before I could even process them, taken over by the passion I felt for the woman underneath me.

“Hold tight, darling,” I asked when I realized her instinctively jutting her hips up to meet mine, a clear sign of her discomfort beginning to fade and giving place to strong, untamed passion.

When her arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders, I picked up the pace, still trying to remain gentle as I searched for her sweet spot each time I bottomed out inside of her. She was still so innocent, and so sensitive. It didn’t take long at all to bring her to another orgasm, and when she reached that high, I couldn’t stop mine anymore.

I came so fucking hard a roar escaped my chest as my arms trembled with the strain to keep myself up so I wouldn’t just suffocate her. But when I was still trying to come back to Earth, it was her hands that guided me to heaven, cradling my bearded cheeks as I slowly tried to control my breathing.

“I’m gonna keep you chained to the basement, kitten,” I warned her, becoming completely hypnotized by her sweet little giggle when she threw her head back to laugh. “No one’s going to get near you again.”

[zach-the-fox]

My Fair Fur Episode 1: Humble Beginnings

We begin our story with the main character, Zach the Fox Prince, and his father, who rules the fox kingdom under his reign. Zach had been struggling for his entire life, trying to win over his father’s affection and attention after his mother had passed when he was given a crown before he can walk, as well as a blue bandana as a symbol of her love. The young fox would fail to achieve his father’s consciousness, as he is always shooed before being carried away by the guards. The fox prince would train himself daily, practicing with sword in paw for the day of going into battle as king, hoping to impress his father with the skills he learns. Every time he called his majesty to the war room to display his skill, the fox king would turn away and head off to his quarters. Negligence was common for young Zach, causing him to socialize with the servants, soldiers, and serfs within the walls of the Fox Kingdom. His father is not pleased with his desire to interact with those he deems unroyal, often forcing him to punish the prince such as locking him in his room and beating him mercilessly until he submits and shows blood. The young fox prince was powerless against the king, unable to connect with the fox he saw as his father.

One day, it becomes too much for the prince to take anymore. His father, along with many other royal figures, stand around a large round table with a map of the world inscribed. It is when the king notices his son standing in the archway of the room that he proceeds to stand. The fox prince’s golden crown reflects off the fire torches while his blue cape covers his back. His mother’s blue bandana hangs around his neck. The king’s eyes clenched in anger with fists formed. “What are you doing here, Boy?”

“Father,” Zach begins, walking into the room. “Please excuse my entrance, but I have come to see what the situation is with the land.”

“You are not worthy to sit in with the council!” the king says. “Only those who possess the tongue for brilliant politics can serve on council.”

“Tis the reason I came to watch, Father,” Zach continues. “By witnessing this conference, I shall learn how to handle the kingdom when I am older.”

“You cannot handle anything right, Boy! What difference does it make if you sit here and learn from the council?! You shall not stay!”

“But Father, how shall I learn to be a better king?”

“You will never be king! Your actions will cause great catastrophe in this kingdom! The people will never trust you being in power! They shall know you as the flawed fox of the kingdom!”

“It isn’t true, Father! I shall prove I am worthy! I am the prince of the Fox Kingdom!”

“Get out! It is my opinion that matters, and what I say goes!”

“But Father.” The young fox approaches him. “Please. I beg you that I am-” He is interrupted with the palm of his father’s paw across his face, knocking his crown off of his head. The prince holds his cheek with his paw as he looks at the king. “F-Father…”

“Leave now, Boy! Stop trying my patience!” Zach stares at him for a few seconds before leaving the room in tears. He stands outside for a moment, trying to stop himself from crying when he overhears his father’s voice and the conference.

“Sire,” begins a nobleman. “Do you think it was right to treat the prince like that?”

“The boy needs to learn the hard way!” exclaims the king. “He will never be king with the way he does things. Besides, I never wanted a son. His mother is at fault for that.”

Zach’s ears droop, drawing him into a deeper sadness than before. He slowly walks away after having his crown returned to him by a loyal servant from the room. “I am not wanted… I shall not be here…”

After the sun had set, the servant who had returned the prince’s crown approaches the small wooden door and presses her knuckles upon the surface. “Young Prince?” she calls. “Tis His Majesty’s servant. Are you well?” There is no answer from the other side. “Young Prince?” The servant pushes open the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and scans the room to find it lacking a soul. “Fox Prince? Is thy around?” There is still no answer. She proceeds into the room, finding no trace of the fox prince. His sword is missing from the stand from which it rests. “Prince? Oh Prince! Where is thy?”

 ***

 The blackness of the night makes it difficult for those outside to see properly. The residents of the land light torches all over to combat the darkness shrouding their territory, but not enough to see further away, making it easier for the young fox to travel without being seen. Wearing a robe to conceal himself, the fox sneaks past every burning light until he reaches the outskirts of the town, disappearing into the wheat fields before pressing onwards. He wanders further away from the giant stone castle beside the small town and into the dense forest beyond the farms. Following the dirt path twisting through the trees, the young fox keeps his head held high, staying alert on what lies ahead. He takes a deep breath in as he ambles along. “Why does he hate me? Lord, what did I ever do to him to make me his enemy? Am I truly not worthy enough to become king of the foxes? Am I truly a villain in his eyes?” Zach grudges at his stomach as it roars with demand, causing him to shift his focus quickly to food. “Hm, I guess I should’ve had something to satisfy my stomach before I made the journey out… No matter, I’m sure Mother Nature will provide me with fruit and berries, fresh from the trees and bushes, and perhaps some meat from the wildlife that graze around here.” The young fox takes notice of a small bush growing on the side of the path, littered with lavender lilac flowers. The neighboring bush possess lavender berries which grow in abundance. “What luck.” Zach wanders toward the bush and proceeds to pluck the berries, putting them into the palm of his paw before proceeding to eat them. “Interesting. I have never seen fruit grow alongside a beautiful bush before.” Leaning toward the flowers, he takes a big sniff of air, filling his nostrils with the scent of the lilac flowers. “Quite a smell. Reminds me of the fresh linen the maids would put out for our beds.” The prince continues on his way, heading down the darkened path once more. “Perhaps I should think of what my plans are… What I should do in terms of being on my own…” He places his paw on the side of his head. “Strange… I feel light-headed in the oddest reason…” Zach would think nothing of it, however. The fox would continue down the path to ignore the flowers he had inhaled, known as Loopy Lilac.

Loopy Lilac has a unique property in herbal medicine, yet it’s quite dangerous for those who come in contact with the wild flower. The scent the flower gives off itself is enough to pull its victims into hallucinogenic trances, making the victim light-headed and feel “loopy”, as the name implies. The druggy flower also causes the sufferer to enter a high-like state, eventually acting out everything they see before plunging into unconsciousness, depending on how much was inhaled. Loopy Lilac is said to claim unlucky travelers who possess no knowledge of the flower. And now, it’s claimed its latest victim: the fox prince.

“Oh…” Zach wobbles and weaves, watching as his vision ripples, as if the path itself is moving before him. He discards his robes behind him as he heaves. “Ooo, look at the pretty colors.” Zach smiles as he watches the world change to a variety of colors, ranging from the lightest red to the darkest purple. He sways back and forth as if standing on a ship, struggling to keep balance as it cuts through the waves. “Hehehe,” he giggles. “I feel like a ship at rough seas!” Zach struggles to keep on the path while trying to maintain his balance, battling the internal enemy. “Oops!” The prince falls back and stumbles to the ground, landing on his seat. “I fell…” He begins to laugh hysterically with his body tingling. “Oh, that tickles.” Zach pushes himself up, struggling to keep his balance. He continues the little game of wobbling down, falling, and getting up, laughing so much every time he continues. His progress is every few feet before stumbling and laughing. The prince continues down the path a couple of ways away from his fiftieth fall before wobbling off the path and down toward a dead tree. He collapses at the base of the dead trunk, looking directly up at the sky, while continuing to laugh. “The night sky… She is so beautiful… Mother, is that you calling?” Zach’s eyelids begin to feel heavy, forcing them to close and engulf his vision into pitch black.

  The prince attempts to stand one more time, only to fail and fall onto his back. “The sky… It’s so pretty… I feel so sleepy…” Zach’s eyelids begin to feel heavy, forcing them to close and engulf his vision into darkness.

Nightmares occupy his mind, while leaving the fox’s body vulnerable to the elements as he lies underneath the tree. His darkest fears unleash within, forcing him to endure the full wrath of every unpleasant memory he has experienced. Everything from his mother’s death to his abusive, negligent father. The gaps in between are brimmed with murder and lust done by the king fox, to which the young prince had laid eyes on, thus killing his innocence. All of this happens within the recess of Zach’s mind, sitting in a throne, restrained by iron bands, forced to watch as his life plays for him in this theater of terror. Then the fox king appears to him, shouting at the prince in disbelief of a goof future for him, further butchering his son’s confidence. Zach closes his eyes, wishing that it would all cease and disappear. His last sight is his father’s palm connecting with his face, much like the war room incident, but instead of his father, his view is replaced with pitch black.

Upon reopening his eyes halfway, the fox prince takes notice of a figure within his sight. He struggles to open his eyes to better see the creature, who appears in grey with golden horns beside its ears and a gold spike on its nose, glistening in the bright morning sun. Its bright blue eyes reflect in the light, having tan fluff around the mouth and travels down the stomach. Wings span from the creature’s back no longer than its arms. The fox makes the creature out as a dragon, who waves with a small smile.

“Dragon!” Zach shouts, pushing himself away from the creature, as it jumps back in response to his yell. The fox stands quickly and draws his sword to the grey-scaled animal, who has their paws up. “Stay back, and I shall not slaughter thou!”

“Firework mean no harm!” squeaks the dragon. “Firework didn’t mean to! Don’t hurt Firework!”

“As long as you don’t hurt me, then we are peaceful.”

“Why would Firework hurt anyone?” He lowers his paws. “Firework not like other dragons… Firework friendly dragon… Firework have no interest in harming others…”

Zach lowers his sword. “You don’t?”

The dragon shakes his head. “Firework do not want slaughter.”

“Firework,” the fox repeats. “Is that your name?” The grey mythical creature nods. “Why name thyself “Firework”?”

“Firework like colorful explosions set during festivals,” Firework tells him. “Beautiful colors. Firework take name for self because Firework love colors.”

“Don’t dragons have fearsome names?”

“Not Firework. Fierce name not fit young dragon like Firework.”

“Young? You’re a child? What are you doing out here? Did you get lost? Are you looking for your parents, or a flock?”

“Firework don’t have flock, or parents,” Firework says, ears drooping. “Other dragons despise Firework.”

“Why?”

“Other dragons deem Firework weak and annoying… Ever since Firework hatched, Firework struggle for attention… No other dragon give Firework any… So, Firework leave…”

“You’re here all by yourself?” asks Zach. Firework nods again. “Tis a shame… I, too, share your experience… My father, the king of foxes, sees me only as his adversary… He cares not for my well-being and future, but cares only for his own interests… He worries not for the people who serve him, either… In my attempts to win his respect, his love, and affection are failed approaches. I have never had a single friend due to his position in power, creating fear among those, and over me…”

“Prince of foxes alone, too?” asks Firework. The prince doesn’t deny it. “Loneliness hurts.”

Zach slides his sword back into his sheath. “I’ll be your friend if you’d like.”

Firework’s ears stick up as he glances at the fox. “Fox Prince would?!”

Zach nods. “We shall form a bond of friendship as we journey away from our horrid pasts, shaping us into new beings.”

“Yee!” Firework jumps with glee. “Firework happy! Firework have friend! Firework friends with Fox Prince!” He stops. “Um, what Firework and Prince do now?”

“I am uncertain,” Zach says. “My main goal is to leave fox king far behind… After that, nothing comes to my mind… Perhaps a walk will freshen me with inspiration for new ideas?” Firework agrees. “Come, Firework. We must make haste!”

“Yes yes, Fox Prince!”

“Call me Zach. I must try to not identify as prince.” The two animals wander away from the dead tree and down the path. In the place of where Zach lied, two stems penetrate from the ground at the base. Their healthy green color in contrast with the dark trunk represents a new symbol for the fox prince and his fresh dragon ally; where there’s death of the old, there comes anew. @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ @sally-the-pack-leader​ @ask-choro-mama​

[amzyspinkarch]

At Last Tamagon x Reader

Smoke fills the air. The unpleasant smell of burning meat hits the nostrils of individuals nearby.

''Oi Tamagon! Nani shiteru no?!'' Kiev chastised.

''Tamagon!''

Kiev makes his way over to the said man and grabs the tongue utensil out of his hand. Being ripped from the clutches of memory lane, Tamagon is brought back to his reality where he's confronted by his brother. He blinks once, twice, thrice, before giving Kiev his attention. 

''Huh?'' Kiev jumps and slaps him across the head. 

''You're burning the food!'' He seethed while the rest of the crew chastise him as well. Some laugh at the male shaking their heads.

''Oh'' Tamagon pauses. ''Gomen ne''

Kiev sighs and tends to meats. Tamagon follows suit letting out a sigh knowing he's messed up. He just couldn't get out of his head. Not when horrid memories took over his mind. His eyes train up towards the blue sky masked with stark white clouds. He always finds solace when his eyes are fixed there. Something about the sky and shapes of the clouds is peaceful. A pass-time of his when he isn't busy with the company. Such sessions are even shared at times with a certain young woman. 

'I wonder if A-' 

''Oi, Tamagon!'' a voice belonging to his other brother Zanbai interrupts his thought. ''Your lady friend is here'' The men snicker at him.

Tamagon fights to keep down a slight blush trying to evolve and paint his face identical to a tomato.

''Thank you Zanbai. Let me know when you want a shot at announcement gigs. I'll set you up'' you pat his arm and turn smiling at Tamagon. The look in your eyes never fail at making him shy. As always though, he adverts his head after a hello to you.

He strides over to the steps and takes a seat. You shake your head, but your determination does not falter. You make your way over to the male and sit beside him. You remind yourself to put distance between you. A mental note you made from your last encounter.

''How are you Tamagon?''

''I am fine. And you?'' 

''I'm well.'' you chirp.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you flashing him a wide smile that he swears lights up his insides. Yet, he remains facing forward as if you don't affect him in the least. Another usual was silence. Though, frankly speaking, it was something pleasantly surprising that you'd become accustomed to.

''Tamagon'' he picks up on the tone of your voice. A shift from your usual playful. Concerned, he turns to you while you gather your thoughts to make your statement in the best way possible. Hopefully not messing up. You clear your throat.

''Are you okay?'' he'd like to know

''Qui. Je le suis merci.'' He nods. You let out a breath. ''Tamagon, I like you. Tu me rends heureux. You make me happy.'' Your hand covers one of his with yours as you look into his eyes.

''I know you're wondering how that can be. Well. It's the little things about you. I have made no secret of my crush on you, nor my attraction. I am not ashamed of it. However, I must let you hear it from me verbally.'' You pause taking a breath

''I love how even when not saying much or anything at all, I still learn so much from you. I love how expressive you can be with your family, yet, you're also reserved. I would love to be with you. I don't care what you or anyone says. You may second guess this and think I that have motives, but I'll do everything to prove to you that my affection and adoration. Mes sentiments, my feelings. '' Your hand squeezes his. ''Are real. I see the kind of person and man that you are, and I'm so attracted to him. You once caused mischief, but you, along with these rest of this crew, have turned your lives around. You're now an honest, hard-working man.'' Your eyes trail down to his mouth and smile seductively.

''I love your lips and how plump and soft they look. I love how when you're around, I instantly feel warm. And safe. I could go on and on Tamagon. And I will when, not if, but when you accept to be my man.'' You were so focused on the man facing you, that you hadn't realised you'd gained the attention of your family. Everyone's munching on their lunch both entertained and awed by the words coming out of your mouth.

And Tamagon's facial expression.

A certain pink-haired cutie suddenly interrupts.

''Love'' Himari, relaxing on her mother's lap, comments. Parting her hands and arms gesturing to you and the chubby-cheeked male. It was then you noticed the audience gathered and partly wished to be buried into the Earth.

Turning to Tamagon you see a mixture of emotions swirling around in his eyes and contorting his face. His unnerving silence causes you to panic. You turn to walk away abruptly deciding it's best to regroup and approach later. Plus, the more you felt examined, the more agitated you got, and no one wanted to see you snap.

Everyone ate and socialised before getting back to work. Tamagon secluded himself on a comfy seat in the backyard trying to process your words from earlier. His mind indeed sent off warning bells to tell him you just messing with him. He couldn't imagine someone taking him on and not at face value and appearance.

''You shouldn't overthink it.''

''Franky aniki'' Franky rests a palm on the male's shoulder. 

''Tamagon, when someone loves you for you, don't take it for granted. She's been showing you for how long now she's interested. And you still won't budge. Baka. You like her and she's let you know how much she likes you. Stop letting your fears get in the way and kiss the girl. Honestly, you're so hard-headed'' Franky boxes the male on the head and leaves, going back to work.

Evening had approached by the time last-minute checks on the stability of the booths, the lightings, sounds and decorations occurred. The ideas for this game night Coby and Ame were going to host were superb. You were proud of the woman for finally having the balls to connect more to her other family. Whether she wanted to accept and embrace them or not. From what Coby's described, the Newgate's were a great family.

Taking a few steps backs, you observed the sight before you. The large backyard was now transformed into a mini carnival. Though the best part, is the gorgeous, fairy lights lit tents created for an outdoor theatre. You released a sigh.

''It's beautiful," Ame said from beside you. Her eyes captivated by the sight before her and who could blame her?

''Qui. Il fait beau. You're a genius"

"I wouldn't know about that"

"Yes, you are. A game night that ends with an outdoor movie in dreamy tents with seating that has the comfort of a bed? Dang woman. By the way, I hope you know it's about to turn into a baby-making fest tomorrow night." The gorgeous, dark-skinned woman swats your arm

"Your mind's always in the damn gutter."

"No more than yours" you snicker at her, but she just gives you an amused look

"Oh? I beg to differ sis. I see the way you look at Tamagon."

"So, does everyone." You shrug "I make it no secret my interest in him"

"Yeah. We know from your declaration earlier" She smirks at you teasingly. Your cheeks, being devoid of melanin, flushed a deep pink

"Shut up. I didn't know everyone was around. I got lost in the moment.'' You release a sigh. '' But I wouldn't change a thing. He's so sweet. And a hunk" She nods while staring forward.

"I know what you mean," she says with a distant smile on her face. Movement catches the corner of your eye and you peer over to the person.

"Ooo. Speaking of sweet and a hunk. Your husband is home.'' You notify'' Mind if I go entertain him with the idea of a ménage a trios?" You teasingly raise an eyebrow. Ame laughs light-heartedly.

She smirks and closes the gap between you two. Taking a hold of your hands, she gives you her best puppy dog eyes filled with fake desperation.

"More than anything" Her body is yanked backwards. Rope binding her torso and arms. 

"Oi Ame! Nani shiteru-no" 

"Mmm Paulie, I like where you're going with this." You grin mischievously at the male. His face blushes a deep pink.

"Urusai! Ame! You're married for shit's sake. Stop going after other men's ladies"

"Shut the fuck up and release me, Paulie! This is so tight" 

"I bet that's what Coby's says about your-" your sentence is cut short by the ranting male.

"And you. Stop starting things and entertaining her!" You chuckle and give the older male a fake look of conviction.

"Je regrette Paulie. You know we're only playing" you wink at Ame and she winks back.

"Uso-tsuki!!" The man yells at both of you 

"Can't have these two in the same vicinity" Franky chimes in playfully

"Honestly. They're both something else" Kop replies

Paulie took Ame over to her husband. They verbally went back and forth with each other as everyone laughs. You simply waved at her before laying on the grass, gazing at the evening sky. You blew out a breath. You wondered how to go about things between you and the certain male when you felt a presence nearby. Tamagon. He gifts you with a slice of cake but does not speak. Neither of you say a word. Both too afraid of the unknown.

''I... I like your native tongue. Both your accent and your language. I find it sexy and adorable when you switch between French and English. Especially when flustered.'' He takes moment to gather his words carefully ''I-I'' he takes a breath ''I like how opposite you are of me yet we.. blend.. perfectly. Like makeup.'' He blushes recalling a time watching you apply products to your face and the lessons you taught him while at it. ''I love your hair'' he says with a warm smile ''It's so fluffy and full. A small, lovely afro crown adorning your head.'' Your smirk turns into a slightly sad smile

''But you can't run your fingers through it.''

''I'd happily get tangled up.'' He replies smiling. His fingers brush against your hand.

''I love your skin very much. You may have a skin disease to others, but to me, you're so beautiful. You're a work of art, a masterpiece and you should never feel any other way about yourself.''

Tamagon shifts closer to your body. Your body stills, not believing what's happening. You let out a breath and relax when his hand now takes hold of yours, squeezing it. You turn on your side to face him. ''I-I like you y/n,'' he says. He turns on his side to face you as well.

You smile lovingly as your hand goes to his cheek. You caress his face rendering the man weak as he leans into your touch.

''Tamagon?'' you softly call. He hums. ''J'ai tres envie de faire l'amour avec toi ce soir. I really want to make love to you tonight''

His eyes widen with shock and his face lights up like a Christmas tree as he rolls onto his side. His back faces you as he tries hiding his reddened face. Your laugh resounds throughout the yard, and Tamagon works on calming his heart rate. Another stretch of comfortable silence passes. You take that time trying to calm your own beating heart and fight your blush fest. You decide to use food as well as a counter and take a bite of your dessert. You relishing the sweet taste before abruptly choking, taken by complete surprise by his response to your confession.

''Y-yes. You can make love to me tonight''

(A/N: I know this one is longer that rest but I'm especially attached you will, to this one-shot. I really felt it necessary and it took me a long time to finish it. However, I'm happy that I am and I hope that you enjoy it. Happy reading people! Translations are down below) 

Japanese:

Nani shiteru no- What are you doing?

Gomen ne- I'm sorry, sorry

Aniki- Big Brother, brother

Baka- Idiot

Urusai- Shut up.

Uso-Tsuki- Liar.

French:

Qui. Je le suis merci- Yes. I am thank you.

Tu me rends heureux- You make me happy.

Mes sentiments- My feelings

Qui. Il fait beau- Yes. It is beautiful.

Ménage a trios- Three-way

Je regrette- I'm sorry. I am sorry

J'ai tres envie de faire l'amour avec toi ce soir- I really want to make love to you tonight