#any minor inconvenience and my thoughts are just of violence

[nightly-ruse]

I’m mildly sick right now and the inconveniences it is causing me makes me want to meltdown I hate being sick

[wttcsms]

angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k  synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes. 

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi. 

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked. 

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away. 

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now? 

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that?  I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” 

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

[chairofchaos]

Letters of Love: Part II

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris contend with nosy family members and not having enough time together. (If you have not read Part I of Letters, you will not understand what's happening! You can read Part I HERE.)

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. Minors, do not interact)

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: 18+ for: Violence typical of ACOTAR canon, graphic depiction of violence, graphic sexual content, language, and if I forgot anything please let me know!

A/N: Well, this one earned that Explicit rating. Due to that: Minors, do not interact. Everyone else: If you want to follow along with this story you can follow the tag "#letters of love by chaos" or request a spot on the taglist.

LETTERS OF LOVE

Part II

Transcript from Interview:

Arbora: What thoughts were running through your head when Azriel flew away from you in the orchard?

Eris: I was certain he was rejecting the bond. Rejecting me. It was agonizing.

Arbora: Were there any specific thoughts you remember?

[A lengthy pause of silence] 

Arbora: Father. Answer the question, please.

Eris: Yes, my most beloved daughter. There are a good many thoughts I remember. [Pauses] You want the full truth?

Arbora: Yes. And nothing short of that, please.

Eris: Very well. I was High Lord, in a court with very few to no real friends, falling in love with the spymaster of my reluctant ally. I did not handle it well. I had hoped – foolishly, perhaps – that I would be able to tell him before he realized on his own. I cannot say that was a good plan, because he likely would have punched me and called me a liar, or run away, just as he did when he realized on his own. 

I stood there for a number of minutes, watching where he had disappeared. I was a mess, in part because I thought nothing could come of a mating bond I had hated to hope for in the bad times, but had begun to look forward to. The other part was that I had realized that I actually was in love with Azriel. I hated myself, pure and simple, for all of the vitriol I had ever thrown at him. I didn’t ignore that we had said similar things, traded similar insults. 

I went into a brief state of mourning. I froze. I watched, and waited, and hoped briefly that this wouldn’t be what happened, that it wouldn’t be the end of the mating bond I had only recently begun to allow myself to hope for. And then I mourned the twenty-four hours where I had begun to hope specifically for the mating bond that Azriel and I had. 

Arbora: How well did you know Azriel?

Eris: We worked very closely together during the war against Koschei. It was close quarters. I think your uncle Rhysand was operating under the “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” philosophy, with the addition of “keep the ally you aren’t sure if you trust or not under the watchful eye of your spymaster at all times lest he kill his father at an inconvenient time.” There wasn’t a lot I did without Az when I was on the continent during the short period I was there. Why my father allowed that, I have no idea. I came to know Azriel fairly well. After Beron died, though, I was High Lord of Autumn. Any and all interactions we had were official, and the relationship grew to be distant again.

Arbora: So how did you know you loved him?

Eris: That’s a very good question. If love was easy to explain, I don’t think it would be nearly as powerful. There are admirable traits in a person you love, but they aren’t why you love them. You just do. You can find someone attractive without loving them. You can find aspects of a person you love unattractive, and still love them. Love is its own entity. It’s enigmatic. If I knew how to explain love, my dearest Arbora, I would explain away. But unless - until you experience it… nothing can compare.

Arbora: You wrote him a letter to ask him to come back. What was that like?

Eris: Oh, that was my least favorite part of the entire night. I was dejected. I felt rejected. I hated myself for groveling. I hated myself for letting him know I wanted that chance without knowing exactly how he felt first. It was a vulnerability. It terrified me. Yet I knew it was an important piece. Elain and Lucien were rather insistent. I asked her later if she knew something, but she never said. She did insist I return Lucien’s letter to her, though I’ve never understood it. It was an odd request, though one I obliged happily, given her role in convincing me to try to speak with Azriel.

Arbora: How did you come to accept the mating bond?

Eris: I had had dinner set out in the orchard. It was how I planned to tell Azriel about the bond in the first place, and it was still there, just waiting. With me, I suppose. I figured it would help us to eat. We had to talk about so many things. I had just asked him if he wanted to try. He had said he did. I didn’t think for a minute that it would snap, solidify like that. I hadn’t touched it at all. The staff made the meal; the staff took it out to the orchard. Azriel even served his own plate. I don’t remember if I served my plate or he did. I was too wrapped up in my thoughts and observing him, I think.

Arbora: So you didn’t know it would solidify when you offered him dinner. 

Eris: [snorts] Despite what your papa might say, no. I had no idea. Why he thinks I had any control of that, I will never understand.

Arbora: How did you feel when the bond solidified?

Eris: Relieved. I don’t believe you can accidentally accept a mating bond. Still, part of me has wondered in the centuries since if neither of us had really accepted anything at that point. Maybe the Cauldron knew we were both too stubborn to make that last jump without the confirmation that the other was in just as deep as we were. 

Your aunts could tell you a bit about human arranged marriages if you asked, and while they can and certainly do go wrong, occasionally great loves have been born from them. It’s not entirely the same thing, but I think without that push for us to talk and get along, we may never have spoken of all the hard things we needed to in order to be together. I’m stubborn. So is Azriel. It’s a fault, at times, and certainly one we share. In this case, we had everything to lose, or everything to gain. We had to choose which way it would go.

Arbora: Once it solidified, you went for a week to the Acorn House. What was that first week like?

Eris: It was beautiful. It was very challenging. We hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about anything. It took us nearly the entire first month talking of the past to be able to start to think about the future. It would have taken much longer if we hadn’t spent that week together, alone. It was wonderful, as well. I’ll spare you the more sensual details, but the intimacy, the getting to know each other truly, as we were at peace and not at war, was the most beautiful thing of all.

[End Interview]

Letters:

Dear Azriel,

Congratulations on the mating bond! I will admit I am surprised, but Feyre said you seemed as grateful as you were perplexed. I’m not entirely sure what to make of that. But she’s happy for you, and since you’ve answered more of her notes than mine recently, I’m going to assume that’s a good sign. And I have to ask- did you two mess around when I had you bunked together? I wonder how I would have missed it, though I suppose there was enough going on that it’s possible.

When you can, come home for a little. I don’t want to push - we’ve divided your responsibilities, and things are still fine, but we should talk about what this means, and also what happened in Windhaven. And I think you should talk to Mor before she finds out from someone else. This may be a blow for her.

Rhys

***

Dear Azriel,

My darling mate has informed me she thinks it’s odd that I would want to use my powers to contact you while you’re likely fucking Vanserra. I haven’t the slightest idea why. I’m going to indulge her for now and stick to the letters.

Anyhow, she also told me to tell you to ignore the last letter I sent, except for the congratulations. In case you haven’t opened it yet, congratulations! Feyre says don’t read it. I hope your joy is as great as she seems to think it is. 

Let us know when you think you might get home. You are missed here. If I don’t hear from you soon, I may just have to ignore my mate.

Rhys

P.S. Az, I watched him write this one. I’ll do my best to keep him from bothering you, though you know how tricky that may prove. Don’t worry about us. We love you, even if my petulant mate has a funny way of showing it. - Feyre

***

Dear Eris,

I’m going into labor. Don’t worry about me, or the baby. We’ll both be fine. Lucien may be a bit of a wreck though. I don’t know yet.

I wanted to take one more chance to tell you how happy I am for you. I am so proud of you for writing that letter to Azriel. It’s changed your life. And I hope you’re as happy as I’ve seen you in my visions. Don’t be afraid to cry.

Love, your sister,

Elain

***

Eris,

Elain is in labor. I am finding myself suddenly terrified. She’s assured me it will be fine, and she hasn’t been wrong before. Regardless, I wanted to let you know. If you see this, don’t worry about us. I’m just too tired to pretend to be any more put together than I feel right now.

Lucien

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

I’m mortified. I mentioned to Azriel this morning that I enjoyed how much he liked being undressed. He laughed, then blushed a little. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sheepish. His shadows even ruffled the hair at the back of his neck as if they were trying to cool the skin there.

He admitted after a moment that he isn’t usually this undressed all the time, but that he only had the clothes he wore the night he came to the orchard. I hadn’t even thought of it. I didn’t even notice. But his boxers had been changing (I knew that much anyway) and he noticed my noticing because my gaze had dropped to his boxers he was wearing. He’s been wearing my boxers. Mine. For days. He smirked, and said he was surprised it took me this long to notice. He said he felt fortunate I preferred my boxers on the looser side because they were snug on him, and he’s right. The reason I didn’t recognize them is that, on me, they’re comfortably loose. 

On him? They stretch across his ass and thighs like they were made to compress his lower body. We may be the same height, but Az is pure muscle. And the thighs and ass? There’s a reason I didn’t notice the lack of available clothing. I’m too distracted. And I love every minute of it.

But I was mortified, and he noticed, because he didn’t hesitate when I dragged him to my closet and started rifling around for anything that might fit him. Literally, anything. I’ve never damned my love of tailored clothing before, but I did when I realized there was nothing in my entire closet that would fit him. I tried insisting that he go get clothes from home, but he was adamant he wasn’t going anywhere. And then, just for a kicker, he added, (so slyly. Cauldron, I love this asshole mate of mine) “I thought you said you liked my body?” So I dragged him to bed. Again. To show him, once more, just how much I like that body of his.

I need to go buy him some clothes.

Letters:

Dear Eris,

I am writing to let you know that Elain has given birth to our daughter, Flora Andras. They’re both doing very well. As godfather, I wanted you to be the first to know. Elain is writing to Feyre for the same reason. Feel free to tell Azriel. We’d love it if you both came to visit and meet her soon, though we understand if that isn’t possible at the moment. Let us know.

Best,

Lucien

***

Dear Lucien,

Congratulations to Elain and to you! Azriel says congratulations, as well. We are both excited to meet Flora. And your tribute to Andras is rather moving. Well done.

We discussed coming. I don’t think either of us are ready to leave just yet. I’m sure you understand, since you took a good two to three weeks away with your mate a few years ago.

You’re my brother. She’s his sister-in-law. Actually now we’re all related in some way, which is a thought I’d rather not dwell on too long. Still, we don’t think we can show up publicly, at least not yet. If only specific people were coming, or if no one else would be there, we would. If there is a time in a few days, maybe, where we could come and have it be just us, you, Elain, and Flora, that may be ideal. I am looking forward to meeting my goddaughter.

Do me a favor and don’t mention to your sister and her family that we’re intentionally ignoring their letters. 

All my love to you, your mate, and your daughter,

Eris

***

Dearest Azriel,

Elain wrote and asked me if we’re sure we can’t come separately. She was hoping I might meet Flora with Feyre, but Feyre is coming with the entire Night Court reticule (minus yourself, of course) and according to her, you wouldn’t be able to escape the excuses made on your behalf to show up for this.

Eris

***

Eris,

Are you writing me notes while you’re in your meeting? This probably could have waited until after.

Azriel

***

Dearest, 

Of course I am. I miss you. 

Eris

***

Eris,

It’s your court. Far be it from me to tell you what to do in your meetings.

I understand if you want to go. She’s your goddaughter. He’s your brother. Though I must admit, I am loath to be separated from you, especially considering we haven’t had more than a day uninterrupted this entire week.

When you write them again, please tell them again how excited I am.

Love,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

I’m glad you agree ordering me around when we aren’t in the bedroom isn’t the smartest idea in Autumn.

I do want to go, but frankly I’m not sure I would be able to tolerate your absence. Not to mention the fact that you would just be sitting in my home, waiting for me to return. And yes, I’m rather looking forward to being home this weekend. 

Did I tell you what your request for me to write congratulations from the both of us did to me? Never mind the “love” at the end of your last note.

Eris

***

Eris,

I’ll leave it up to you. And you didn’t tell me, no. Though I find myself increasingly intrigued.

All my love,

Az

***

Dearest,

Let’s just say the gentle domesticity of writing congratulations from the both of us left me in a state very unbefitting for a High Lord sitting in the meeting he is currently in. I’ll be sure to show you exactly what I mean when I get home.

Love,

Eris

***

Eris,

I’ll be waiting.

Until the end of time,

A

Eris’ Journal:

Azriel went to fly, to stretch his wings in circles around the Acorn House, and I’m sitting on the stairs watching him swoop overhead. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed to see him putting on the clothes I bought him yesterday, but him asking me to come watch him with that mischievous joy in his eyes was too beautiful a chance to say ‘no’ to. 

This morning, he woke me with all the drowsy, insistent desire I’ve grown accustomed to being woken with. I think these have been some of my favorite moments of the last few days- his hands pulling me closer until our legs are tangled together and I can’t tell whether the vibrating at my throat when he kisses down my body is from his moans or mine. Being with him is like no other sex I’ve had. And I think that’s the difference- sex versus being. 

Have I ever been this way before, with anyone? I don’t think I have. Being with him, being loved by him (and also being fucked by him - that’s an experience all it’s own) makes me fall apart just for the chance he will put me back together. He always does. He looks at me, and it’s like he can hear the thoughts in my head (though I know he can’t- he assured me that power is only Rhys’ and Feyre’s when I asked him yesterday) or see the reasons for every choice I make.

When I look at him, I can see him. Really. It’s as though I’m looking at him in a whole new way, in completely different lighting. Which is fair- I’ve never spent this much consecutive time with a male ever, and I’ve seen him morning, noon, night, and midnight for the last three days. I can’t keep my hands off of him, either. I knew his wings were sensitive- but when he showed me exactly where to stroke them this morning, I wasn’t expecting him to come immediately, his perfect control shattered to pieces all over my stomach. He didn’t hesitate to collapse on top of me. He didn’t seem to care that his release was all over my skin, just that he wanted to hold me.

Oh yeah- he’s a cuddler. He’ll kill me if I ever tell anyone, I’m sure. But since the other night when he followed me to the kitchen, I’ve hardly been without his hands on me, or his arms wrapped around my waist. He stepped around me in the hall earlier, tracing his hand along my waist as he did, and I pulled him into the bedroom just for the fire it set in my stomach, my soul. The way he looked when I shoved him backward onto the bed and knelt before him was enough to make me groan. He answered me with a groan of his own as I took him into my mouth. He’s gentle, when he wants to be, but when I squeezed his thigh, and guided his hand to my head, he let go entirely. I’ve never had a male thread his fingers through my hair like Azriel does. Maybe it’s because I never let them. But Azriel…

He tangles his hands in my hair often, mostly when we’re curled together, slumped in a post-sex haze. I don’t know why yet- he just smiled when I asked him what his obsession with it was, and no amount of prompting, or teasing, or begging him to tell me while I stroked him (I’ve tried EVERYTHING) will get him to tell me. Watch it be something mundane, like “It just reminded me of this candy,” and he’s just being stubborn. Regardless, he seems to be enjoying himself.

I was worried about that. We’ve had less hard conversations today, just one as we ate lunch. 

I wanted to know what made him accept the bond. He told me he had needed Rhysand to force him back here to even speak to me. I hadn’t told him yet how much that had hurt. 

So I did. Then I asked him outright why he accepted, and if he would have come back on his own.

He didn’t take it poorly. He furrowed his brows- when he does that, I die a little bit. Honestly, it shouldn’t be fair for him to be attractive while he broods. Or pouts. Oh, cauldron. That pout is wicked, and he knows it. He woke me yesterday by dragging his teeth from the lobe of my ear to my collarbone and then pressing kisses along my collarbone to my arm. When I grumbled a little bit (no matter how much I love him, I can’t help but be a little grumpy when I wake up) he pulled back, propping himself on an elbow to stare at me with a pout. It made me laugh. He smirked then, as if he already knew that it would get me to give in. And it did. I did. Four times in the span of an hour. I don’t think I knew that was possible.

But he explained. He said the second he flew away, he regretted it. He didn’t think I would be able to forgive him for what he did. He also admitted it was more Feyre’s notes to him (which he promised he would bring from Night to show me one day) telling him if she and Rhysand could get over their many issues that he and I probably could, too. He also said something about having to see me, having to see if there was any inkling that I wanted him in return. He added, softer than I had ever heard his voice, that he would have come back. That he would have come back even if it had been three minutes to midnight and he had had to dive from a mile above me to make it in time to ask me if I could ever forgive him.

I cried when he said that. I couldn’t help it. I just started bawling. I hated it, as I’ve hated every tear I’ve cried these last few days. I hated it until he stood up from his chair and knelt in front of me before burying his face in my stomach. I didn’t realize he was crying too until I felt my shirt getting damp. I told him how sorry I was that I hadn’t been fast enough to tell him before he flew away. He told me he was sorry he had gone in the first place.

It seems we’re going to spend the first week of mated life apologizing for all the things we’ve done wrong. We’ve done a lot of things to each other, and to our families. Every minute is worth the apologies. Az is swooping down to me now. I can see him showing off a little bit, little loops and his shadows flirting with the air around him. I love him. More than I think either of us even know.

Letters:

Dear Azriel,

Congratulations. Cassian shared. Your news is safe for now, though Gwyn and Emerie are wondering why you haven’t checked in on the newest Valkyries-in-training. They all miss you very much, apparently.

I’m not sure if you heard, but Elain had her baby. A little girl. Her name is Flora. 

Enjoy your time together. We’ll all see you when you get back.

Nesta

***

Dear Azriel,

We need to talk about this. I want to say congratulations but I want to be sure you’re really happy about this first. You already accepted? I don’t distrust you, Az, but that was a big decision to make in such a short time. Don’t try to lie to me and say you’ve known for a long time, but if you’re happy, I suppose I’ll learn to tolerate him. I am always your brother, no matter what. Just let us know you’re okay. 

Cassian

***

Dear Azriel,

I’ve already said congratulations in two other letters. I’ll risk not saying it a third. I was going to stop writing, but you’ve said nothing for six days, so as your High Lord, I am now requesting PROOF OF LIFE. PLEASE. Hopefully you’ll see that, if nothing else. Good grief, brother. Enjoy the frenzy. At least congratulate Elain - she had the baby.

Rhys

***

Dear Elain,

I told you we were all getting concerned? 

Well apparently Rhys was more worried than he let on. He snuck off and wrote Azriel this morning asking simply for proof of life. I don’t know if Azriel and Eris have been reading the letters and then ignoring them, or if somehow they just knew this one mattered.

Either way, I was in Rhys’ office with him when a shadow dropped a sloppily folded piece of paper on Rhys’ desk. The shadow disappeared immediately, seeming as though it was angry it had been sent in the first place. I’ve never seen them move this fast. The paper had “I’m alive. Leave us alone” scrawled across it diagonally in what look to be very hurried letters. It was definitely Azriel’s handwriting. I can’t wait to tease him about this. You know he’ll be mortified when the frenzy is over. It is going to be so ridiculously fun.

Love,

Feyre

***

Dearest Az,

This meeting is going very poorly. I’m afraid I may have to stay here. It’s an internal issue, so I’m afraid I can’t say much. If I do, will you return to Night? I know you’ve been away for a week, and I’m sure with whatever crisis was going on up in Windhaven you may be needed, though I hate to admit it.

I wish I could come home to you, my love.

Eris

***

Eris,

I understand. For now, this time spent together was more than I could have hoped for. You are more than I ever hoped for, and I love you with every part of my being. 

I wish I could say I would be able to stay on the off chance you could come back to the Acorn House, but you’re right. If you are staying there, I should head back to Night, at least for a day or two. Rhys isn’t being subtle with his hints he wants me home, and no matter what Feyre thinks I believe it’s because I’m needed. Very astute observation. 

I wish you could come home to me tonight.

All my love,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

I’ll miss you. If there’s any chance I can come home tonight, I’ll write.

Eris

***

Eris,

If you do, I’ll find a way to come. In the meantime, I’m going to head back to Night.

I’ll miss you, my love, 

Azriel

***

Rhys,

I’ll be back within the hour. Let me know when you want me to take a look at things.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

So soon? I’ll admit I’m surprised after your last note. Trouble in Autumn paradise?

Meet me at 3. 

Rhys

***

Rhys,

Don’t be a dick, and mind your business. We knew we wouldn’t get much time. I’ll see you then.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Elain wrote me again. I may have to go alone this first time, just to indulge them. Would you be hurt? I know it’s a disappointment for me, but the last thing I want to do is to have Lucien breathing down my neck for disappointing Elain.

Eris

***

Eris,

Go ahead. I just got a look at what Rhys had waiting for me and frankly I’m not sure I could leave now anyways. It’s a disappointment, but not a surprising one. There will be other chances.

I love you,

Azriel

***

Dear Feyre,

Can you describe my job to me? Like a list of what you think I do?

Azriel

***

Dear Cassian,

Can you describe my job to me? What is it you think I do?

Azriel

***

Dear Azriel,

Please explain further. I am rather confused by this question.

Feyre

***

Az,

You spy. You capture who we need, and interrogate them, sometimes violently. You look menacing and complain about writing reports when Rhys actually makes you do them. Beyond that, I’m not entirely sure. I guess I assumed much of what you did was hidden for a reason. 

Cassian

***

Feyre,

Never mind. Don’t worry about it.

Azriel

***

Eris,

How is your court’s "internal issue"?

I miss you,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

It’s boring. And frankly, the most boring thing I’ve had to mediate in a good while.

How is your mess?

Eris

***

Eris,

It’s bad. I don’t think anyone but Rhys truly knows what I do. I didn’t realize how frustrating that was until I returned to find the approximation of what everyone thought their delegated section of my duties were. I think it’s good I came back when I did or we would have a bigger crisis on our hands.

Love, 

Azriel

***

Rhys,

We need to talk about finding someone to take on some of what I do. The mess made by having you all trying to do my work was much worse than I anticipated.

Devlon’s replacement needs to be discussed. I know by blood it goes to his nephew, but I’m not sure that’s a replacement we can afford.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Anything I should know? Is there any way I can help?

Eris

***

Eris,

No. Nothing I can share. Your letters are the best help you can give.

Thinking only of you,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Then I’ll write to you as much as possible.

One of the lords just spat at the other and I had to separate them like children. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve had to do that since Lucien and our other brothers were actual children. If it makes you feel any better, you could be dealing with that. I’ll write again when I can. I think I should attempt to prevent murders from occurring in my office. 

Eris

***

Eris,

I have to admit I think I’d prefer that to what I have to fix here. I’ll be absent the rest of the afternoon. I won’t be able to have letters coming to me, but send the shadow I sent to you with anything you want me to see when I get back.

Remind me to kiss you for each note you’ve sent me next time I see you.

You are dearest to me,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

You’ve just set me to a truly exciting task. Maybe I’ll make each note one or two sentences, just for fun, now that I’m out of my meeting. They managed to not kill each other. Though I’m afraid they may have killed my patience for today.

Eris

***

Dearest,

Did I tell you about the dream I had last night? I don’t think I got the opportunity.

Eris

***

Dearest,

I miss you. It was the most delicious dream. We were in Hewn City, and this time I was dancing with you.

Eris

***

Dearest Azriel,

You slipped us out of the room as Rhys grabbed everyone’s attention. We found a little alcove. We were very preoccupied.

Eris

***

My dear,

You made the most delicious noises. It was rather tempting to pull off… well, I’ll tell you the rest when you get home.

Eris

***

Eris.

***

Are you back safe? I love you.

E

***

Eris,

If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be writing. Though I will admit, I was surprised I only had five notes waiting.

Do I get to hear the rest of the story now? It sounds a lot like the plots of the books the Valkyries enjoy.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood. Unless you’d like your home to stay in Night…

Eris

***

Eris,

I have one last thing to do. It’s important or I’d be there already. I’ll come as soon as I can. I do owe you five kisses. But I’ll have to come straight back in the morning. It really is a mess.

I love you.

Azriel

Declassified Excerpts from Windhaven Report:

Incident Report Report written by: [redacted] Lord Devlon was found dead at eight fifty three this morning two miles north of Windhaven. Body run through with a sharpened training sword, apparently one stolen sometime in the last week. The thief is still at large with no suspects. See report made last Thursday (file number [redacted]) for further details of armory robbery. The discovery was made by [redacted], a daughter of [redacted]. She discovered the body while walking to retrieve herbs for a poultice. Her arm is broken. It is highly unlikely she would have been able to murder Devlon herself due to her injury, which was confirmed by her father to be one from roughly two weeks ago. Interviews with [redacted] and [redacted] completed the evening after the event. The discovery of the body began a revolt, seemingly over who had killed Devlon and who would inherit the title. Devlon had not named an heir. The heir apparent would seem to be his nephew, Burim. Burim is a known dissident, participating in uprisings at at least two other camps. His whereabouts are unknown. He should be considered a suspect. The revolt led to the death of fifteen Illyrian males and seven Illyrian females. No children were harmed. Injuries range from mild to severe, with over one hundred injured.  [Redacted] Windhaven is now considered a top priority due to volatility. News reached Velaris two hours after the discovery. [Redacted] responded to the situation. Eight were detained for questioning for participation in the revolt. Those among the injured to be questioned as able in the coming days.  Situation is ongoing. Further reports to be filed under file number [redacted]. Find further details [redacted].

Transcript from Interview:

Arbora: You only spent a week together after you were mated. Why was that?

Azriel: We were both needed by our courts. Eris was dealing with an internal issue between traders who didn’t like their contracts. Rhys needed me to look into an uprising that had happened in Windhaven which resulted in the death of a Lord. It was a blow for all of us, and I didn’t even know it had happened. I was needed to help organize the response.

Arbora: So what did you do after the week was up?

Azriel: We wrote letters. A lot of them.

Eris: Some were more useful than others.

Azriel: They all served a purpose. I don’t think we wasted paper.

Eris: You might not have. I seem to remember writing you five notes in a row to trade for kisses once.

Azriel: Well. That is a purpose.

Eris: It was the best purpose, my dearest.

[brief pause. Arbora chuckles]

Arbora: When did you next see each other?

Azriel: We met briefly a few times.

Eris: The next time we had more than a few moments was when Feyre and Rhys had us for dinner. Nesta, Cassian, Lucien, Elain, and Flora came.

Azriel: We all kept it quiet. We didn’t want to involve anyone prematurely. None of us knew what to expect.

Eris: It caused some problems with the others later, but it was worth it.

[End Interview]

Letters:

Mor,

Can we have lunch today? I need to talk to you about something.

A

***

Of course. The quiet restaurant in Salt and Bone?

M

***

Mor,

Let’s meet at the House. Nesta and Cassian are occupied elsewhere. I’ll see you at two.

A

***

Expecting a fight?

M

***

Two o’clock. It’s just a big thing to talk about. Please.

A

***

I’ll be there.

M

***

Eris,

I just finished lunch with Mor. It went about how I expected.

Love,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?

Eris

***

Eris,

Unless you can heal a black eye on the spot, I don’t think there’s anything. She seemed to feel better after she punched me. I think it was a bit of a shock but she recovered quickly.

Love,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

That seems understandable. I won’t pretend to be anything but hurt by the fact that she punched you simply for being with me.

Do you want to talk about it? I know she matters to you.

Eris

***

Eris,

Your offense is noted, but I think it is unnecessary. The shock got to her. There was no easy way to tell her. I even had her come to the House of Wind so that she could react however she wanted. She didn’t yell. I told her, and she got quiet, which is, as you know, much, much worse. Then she punched me. 

Before I actually told her, I had told her she could ask me whatever she wanted. She proceeded to ask me a lot of things- how long it had been going on, whether I was sure about you and being with you, if I had given any thought to what this would do to our family.

I answered them all as best I could- it had been a week, I hadn’t wanted to keep her in the dark. I was sure, completely and entirely. I had given it a good deal of thought.

I don’t know if my answers helped or hurt. She stayed quiet. The last thing she asked was if I loved you.

I couldn’t help but tell her how much I loved you. I didn’t think she would believe me if I just said “yes,” and I didn’t want to upset her any more. So I told her why I loved you, and a few of the little things from the past week that had been swimming around in my head since they happened. She mostly nodded and said “okay” after that, then left.

I know we talked about this last night, but I’m not sure she’ll want to see you anytime soon. Despite the fact that it was all your father’s doing, she remembers your face hovering over her. She knows you sent for help as soon as you could. She knows that- and so do I. But yours is the face she remembers and associates with the pain of that day.

Regardless, I think it was the right thing to do. She may not talk to me for a month. But following the same logic as what you tried to do in the orchard (I am still sorry about leaving. You were doing the right thing. Every time I think about it, my heart sinks) she needed to be told, and quickly. 

I hope she can understand. I think she will. She and Emerie’s bond was strong, so she would understand that part, at least. I don’t feel entirely hopeless.

I do miss you. Very much. I know when she left, she went to Emerie’s side. I wished I could do the same. You are missing from me. Even my shadows seem to be angry at me for having left your side. I don’t think they’ve ever been so forlorn. 

I miss you. (I would say it a third time if I thought it would do anything to alleviate the feeling.) I know you have too many things this week to get away, and having me around too much increases the chances that we get found out before we are ready. I can’t help but long for you. My heart squeezes every time I think of you, lying in bed alone, trying to sleep. I wish you could be curled next to me, your hand on my waist, legs entwined with mine. 

My love, my heart. Need for you to be with me coils around my very bones. I think it may rend me in two to be away. Just hearing your peaceful, easy breaths last night, feeling your exhales against my collarbone: after all we’ve talked about, never being able to sleep without seeing the horrors of our lives, you were a dream come to life.

You have all of me,

Azriel

***

My dearest,

I hope she appreciates you and what you did for her. It was no small thing. I’m sure in time, she will come to see it. 

I miss you as well. I wish I had more than your words to keep me company. If it wasn’t for tonight’s dinner with the eastern lords, I would find a way to be with you. But for now, I’ll hang on to what I can.

I will write when I’m home. I think I’ll go back to the Acorn House, if only to have your scent on my pillow. 

Do you secretly write poetry?

Eris

***

Eris,

I have never written a poem in my life. 

Forever yours,

Azriel

***

My dearest,

Then you should. You have a very descriptive style. It’s rather compelling.

Eris

***

Eris,

I don’t believe I would do well as a famous writer.

I love you,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Who said you’d be famous?

Eris

***

Eris, 

I would be. I’m infamous already. Poetry would only add to the mystique.

Of course, if you wish me to write you poems, all you have to do is ask. I would be more than happy to spell them across your body with kisses.

All my love,

Azriel

***

My dearest mate,

I’m tempted to winnow to Night Court to make you do just that. If it wouldn’t cause a stir with my own courtiers who I’d be leaving at the dinner table. Or a war with Rhys. Do me a favor, dearest, and hold that thought until I’m with you?

Eris

***

Eris,

Are you writing to me from a court dinner?

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Of course I am. When you’re writing to me promising poetry from your lips, do you blame me?

Eris

***

Eris,

I miss you. It will never be enough. Never.

All my love, no matter how distracted it may make you at this dinner, is yours. I’m yours. Forever. Don’t ever let me let you forget it.

Your dearest,

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I’ve gathered a list of contenders for your delegates. Will you be able to interview them, or would you like me to pick for you?

Rhys

***

Rhys,

I’ll do it myself. Can you set up the times? Make it next week so I can look into them and their references.

Azriel

***

Done. I’ll send you the lists and schedule.

Rhys

***

Dearest,

I’m going to see Flora in the morning. I’ll pass along your well wishes.

Eris

***

Eris,

I’m sorry I’m only seeing this this morning. You had a late night- I didn’t get to bed until nearly 2. Is everything alright? How was your visit to meet Flora? How are Lucien and Elain?

Please take care of yourself,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Flora is adorable. I’ll hold details until you get to meet her. Lucien is proud, but he looks worn. I think his stress is getting to him.

Yes, everything is fine. It was a late night. Some of my lords have a few thoughts on everything I could be doing better. Some made good points and I got distracted outlining them.

It doesn’t help that you’re gone. Not much incentive to get to bed at a decent time.

Eris

***

Azriel,

You have to come for a visit. At the very least, to meet Flora. But Eris was just here, and he told me nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not one salacious detail.

He bores me. Do me a favor and send me something? I did just give birth, you know. The least you can do is entertain me with stories of your time together. Please? I’m even asking nicely. 

Love,

Elain

***

Elain,

You can’t have expected him to spill everything. And neither will I, for that matter.

I’m very happy for you and Lucien. I may be able to come in a few days. I will keep you updated.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Any detail. Any at all. Do me that favor?

Your desperately curious friend,

Elain

P.S. Don’t forget I’m mated to his brother. If Eris is half as good in bed as Lucien, I’m certain you have plenty you could share.

***

Elain,

You would scandalize your sisters if they knew how demanding you were for details of my sex with Eris. That is what you care about, isn’t it?

Azriel

***

Azriel,

If you make me ask again I will deliver the next letter myself, court politics and my recovery be damned.

Elain

***

Elain,

So much for asking nicely. Is there something specific you would like to know? I would hate to disappoint you.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Tell me everything.

Elain

***

Elain,

Let this paragraph serve as your warning: you have asked for everything. I’ll indulge you but keep in mind that if you wish to read further, I take no responsibility for what you read. You understand. I do feel as though I’m returning a favor and perhaps a curse. Your letters from your trip after your own mating ceremony would have been scandalous enough to put a blush on Rhys’ face. I swear I didn’t show him. Just a hypothetical. Last chance to put this away.

Eris is delicious. Watching him while he sleeps feels like it's stitching me back together. He quivers when I run my fingers over his skin. He whimpered the first time I took him in my hand. I nearly spilled into my trousers at the sound. We take turns, usually. He is demanding. In the mornings, he lets me take him gently. The afternoons devolved into fucking. Hard. The nights are sweeter, but no less rough.

One afternoon after he realized I was only half naked because I only had the pair of clothes I wore to the orchard, he tried to get me to fit into anything of his. He looked so distressed by the fact that I hadn’t had a choice about my state of undress that I felt like I had to do something. I teased him about making me feel like he didn’t want me this undressed, and maybe he didn’t like my body. 

He dragged me back toward the bedroom so fast I thought he may have turned into one of my shadows. We barely made it to the doorway before he was pinning me to the wall. He's lithe but strong. I don't think I've ever enjoyed being pinned. I've never experienced it this way, letting him restrain and command me as so few have been able to before, and never in this way. You can never tell him I told you this. Never. I would never forgive you, not because I care if it’s shared, but because I don’t think Eris would ever survive the mortification. So this, all of this, stays between us. One day maybe he’ll stop caring, but I don’t believe today is that day.

The second he had me where he wanted me he pinned my hands above my head with one of his and growled. Truly growled. I will admit I was struggling to keep up with the speed and intensity of his kisses. When he is truly insatiable, he’s like flame - there and gone again, flickering wherever he can be before finding a new piece of me to consume. He palmed me through my boxers and I couldn’t help but beg. I begged, Elain. This male reduces me to incoherence.

He growled an order to keep my hands where they were before he dropped to his knees before me. I’ve never been fond of fire. But the consuming fire in his eyes as he takes me in his mouth would be enough to drive anyone insane with desire. I swear, I tried to keep my hands where they were. He always seems most pleased when I listen. But he dragged his teeth lightly over the underside of my cock and I moved without even thinking. I pulled the tie holding his hair back out as quickly as I could and buried my hands in his hair. We never did find that tie afterwards. I gripped his hair in my fist so hard he yelped. 

I asked him if he could take me. I would hardly remember it except the whine he let out shot through me like an arrow. He panted his ‘yes’ as his eyes changed from that devious, claiming fire to molten magma laced with pure need. 

Eris at his most dominant is awe inspiring. Eris when he submits? I would worship him until he screamed if he let me. It does something to me, watching him pant and moan and writhe under my hands, my mouth. So when he looked at me with those pleading, molten eyes, gasping through parted lips, I snapped.

I fucked his mouth. Frankly, if it had been anyone else I might have worried I was being too rough. He was shaking - I could feel his hands on my thighs quivering with every thrust.

One of the earlier days I had all but ordered him to keep his hands off himself until I told him he could touch, and it seems he remembered, because the second I thought of it I told him to touch himself and his hands flew to his trousers. Once they were out of the way, he brought his hands up to me and pushed his head back against my hands to pull off of me. He ran his hands over me twice before lowering them to stroke himself, palms glistening with everything he had gathered from my cock as he let me guide him back to my cock.

We came together. I’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful when they fall apart. His rosy lips wrapped around me; his eyes not leaving mine except when they rolled back in his head with pleasure. His body jerked and his eyes finally fluttered shut. His moans killed me. 

I’ve been entirely ruined by this male. Every minute is worth it. Every tear. I’ve cried more this week than I care to truly admit. I’ve never cried this much in my life. He said the same to me yesterday. I doubt either of us will cry like this again. I can tell he hates it as much as I do, but it seems to be helping us somehow. 

I think that’s enough detail. Just recalling it is making me need him. Some friend you are. He isn’t even here.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I may be “some friend” but don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy sharing every salacious detail of that. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to receive such a thick letter with my name written in your hand. Let’s just say that the second I’m able? Lucien is in for it.

Thank you!!

Love, and best of luck with your little problem,

Elain

***

Eris,

I need you.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

What’s wrong? The lack of your typically sweet signature is alarming.

Eris

***

Eris,

I need you. As soon as possible. Let me know when you can get away.

Azriel

***

Acorn House. I’m out of this meeting in 15 minutes. I have an hour.

Eris

***

I’ll be there in ten.

A

***

Dear Eris,

I am writing to extend an invitation to dinner for Thursday. Rhys and I want to make up for our absence during your last visit. It would also be good to have you here as Azriel’s mate. It would be a small group. Nesta, Cassian, Lucien, Elain, and Flora are also invited. We want to welcome you to the family. 

Please let me know as soon as possible. I do hope you will come.

Most sincerely,

Feyre

Taglist: @c-starstuff-man0 @talibunny30 @jir67 @ninthcircleofprythian

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[undertheopensky]

We Are But Children 3

Whumptober Day 21: Restraints

Characters: Time, Legend, lil bit of Hyrule and Warriors

Trigger warnings: Violence to a child, mild body horror, minor character death, don’t worry it’s no one you care about, I was going to say it’s not graphic but SOMEONE had other ideas

Read on Ao3!

Late to the party? Read Part 1 and Part 2!

-----

Blinking, the newly-babyfied Time glances around. “Well this is inconvenient.”

Everyone’s tense, almost too afraid to breathe. Four had panicked and cried; Legend had panicked and grabbed a weapon. No one wants to know what Time will do - or accidentally scare him into doing it.

It’s Wars who approaches him. Calm, and smiling, and visibly praying he’ll be recognised. “Hey, bud. Nothing fazes you, huh?”

“Why would it? I’m used to portals and weird wizzrobes at this point.” Baby!Time squints at his own hands. “I admit it’s been a while, though.”

“Okay,” says Warriors. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mask?”

Baby-fine hairs glimmer in the firelight as the child raises one eyebrow. “Been a long time since you’ve called me that, Wars.”

Warriors’ face screws up, losing the steady gentleness that was making Legend’s hair stand on end. “What?”

“I’m fine, Wars, I didn’t lose anything. Weird wizzrobe, not the first time, I’m going to be very short for the next three days.” Adult!Time’s amusement at their bafflement looks creepy as fuck on Baby!Time’s face.

“Wait,” Legend demands, “why the hell does he get to retain his memories while I spent three days embarrassing myself?”

“I am the Hero of Time, you know,” says Baby!Time, with unbearable smugness for such a tiny child.

Legend makes an outraged noise. “Excuse you, I have definitely fucked around enough with the Harp of Ages to –”

Exactly what he was going to say is drowned out by Warriors squawking “LANGUAGE!” and clapping his hands over Baby!Time’s ears.

“He is thirty –”

“Ah-t-t-t! I don’t care! He is like seven and you will watch your language!”

Legend fumes silently but has to drop the argument.

Baby!Time wrestles Warriors’ hands away from his head. “I dunno why you bother, I already learned all the good curses from the soldiers.”

“I’m trying not to make that problem any worse, thank you.” Still, Warriors lets him go. “Now - you sure you’re okay? You’re not sore, or dizzy? You still remember everyone?”

“It’s strange.” Time spreads his arms like a bird. “I still have all my adult memories, and sensations, but they’re less… relevant, somehow. Not as close to the surface.” He takes a few steps, without so much as a wobble. “I don’t feel off balance, or anything.”

“That’s interesting, actually,” says Hyrule, wide-eyed. “When people go through growth spurts they’re often really clumsy until they get used to their new height or reach – I would have thought it would happen in reverse, too.”

Baby!Time nods thoughtfully. “It’s not, though. Maybe all the adult stuff is being held down by the magic too?”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Sky observes.

Baby!Time shrugs. “I did say I’m used to it.”

“I’m not,” says Warriors. He keeps rubbing at his eyes like they’re bothering him. “My brain is not coping with Baby!Time.”

“You could just go back to calling me Mask.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, if it makes you feel better,” Baby!Time says. “A nickname’s a nickname. You all call me ‘old man’ half the time, anyway.”

“Ohhhh, that’s so weird,” Twilight mutters, looking vaguely horrified.

Legend snorts. “All in favour of calling him ‘Mask’ for the next three days?”

“Aye,” comes the chorus.

“Well if that’s settled, can we maybe make a plan on what to do next?” asks Wild. “Because I definitely saw some of the moblins making a run for it while we were distracted with the wizzrobe.”

“Can’t leave those running around,” Wars agrees with a sigh. “Twi, see if you can fetch Wolfie, we’ll need him for tracking - wait, fuck. Mask. Twilight can you introduce Mask to Wolfie while you’re at it? I know he’s great but he’s a wild animal and I do not want any mistakes.”

“Sure thing,” says Twilight, with an impressive lack of inflection. “C’mon, kiddo.”

Baby!Time - Mask - shrugs, and runs after him.

They don’t catch up with the monsters that day, despite Wolfie’s best efforts, and make camp deep in the woods when they lose the light. Wolfie could have kept leading them - he’s not following visible sign, after all - but no one wants to wander blindly into an ambush.

In the morning, Legend rouses to the not-unfamiliar dulcet tones of Warriors cursing. “Why are you allowed to swear and I’m not?” he says.

Warriors makes a strangled noise of surprise. Legend grins, still without opening his eyes. “Because until three seconds ago I thought I was the only one awake!” he hisses. “Goddess above, Ledge!”

“Not my fault you have shitty situational awareness,” says Legend, and sits up. “What’re you swearing at?”

Warriors gestures angrily with the flopping leather in his hand. “My boots don’t fit!”

“They can’t possibly have shrunk overnight, and I doubt your feet have swelled that much, they’re not your head.” Still, Legend leans over to take a look. They… definitely look too small. And too short, actually. Wars has fully fitted calf-length boots with buckles for plates to be strapped on; these would barely cover his ankles even if they were the right size. What the hell?

While they puzzle over this the rest of the camp has started to wake up. Twilight - always up with the sun - is gently shaking Wild, while the champion mumbles a constant litany of ‘five more minutes’. Sky is yawning and stretching. Hyrule, last on watch, is packing away all his gear and making sure Sky doesn’t fall asleep again.

“What are you guys doing?”

They both look up. Wind’s standing over them, trying to look stern and managing something closer to ‘delightedly baffled’. “Where’d you get those shoes, Wars? Why? They’re never gonna fit you! Do you have a kid we don’t know about?”

“What?! No!” Warriors makes a garbled noise, caught between embarrassment and indignance. “Why would you even -? No, they’re not mine! I don’t even know where they came from!”

Wind huffs. “Then whose are they?”

“I suspect they’re mine,” says Four, stumping over in boots that are clearly about six sizes too large.

“How the fuck did that happen?” says Wars. They’d been sleeping on opposite sides of camp, for Nayru’s sake. There’s no way their boots could have gotten mixed up in the dark.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, just gimme my shoes.” Four kicks off Wars’s boots and grabs his own, sitting down to put them on properly and adding, “You better not have split any of the stitching with your massive clodhoppers.”

“I stopped trying when I couldn’t even get my toes in!”

The bickering would probably have gone on a lot longer if Hyrule hadn’t started making anxious noises about getting a move on. It’s not safe to stay in one place for too long in this area, he tells them. And he is the expert, so they get a move on. Wild hands out rice balls. It’s not the first time they’ve had breakfast on the go.

It sends a bit of a jolt down Legend’s spine, every time he glances up the line of heroes and doesn’t see Time’s broad frame near the front. It’s disconcerting.

Mask doesn’t have the same movement patterns, either. Besides the obvious, not being Time, he also doesn’t lead the pack. He follows at Warriors’ heels, or sticks close behind Twilight, or walks so near to Hyrule it’s a miracle he doesn’t get stepped on.

Then Sky turns around to ask Wind a question, spots Mask, and nearly trips over himself with a shriek.

The whole party stumbles to a halt.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was there!” Mask says, while Sky frantically tries to apologise for almost stepping on him. “I’ll be more careful, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, it keeps happening.

Legend wonders about that. Mask had said his adult memories were less relevant, somehow. Does he feel more vulnerable, as a child? Like he needs to be closer to the adults to be safe?

Whatever the case, it’s fucking annoying. Four startles badly whenever Mask’s shadow falls on him – towered over by even the literal child. Warriors jumps about a foot in the air when the wind briefly tangles his scarf around Mask and he feels it tug. Wind offers to give him a piggyback ride, since that’s clearly what he wants if he’s standing so close, which lasts a hilarious but short five minutes before Wind admits defeat. Mask is small, but there’s a lot of muscle under his tunic.

Finally, after Wild does an awkward somersault to keep from landing on the boy, Twilight comes up and plops him on Epona instead. Mask seems happy enough with this arrangement. Legend just breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to worry about the kid stepping on his shoes anymore.

They make good enough time that by evening, they don’t need Wolfie dropping in and out to keep them on the right track; the trail left by the fleeing monsters is enough for any Hylian eye to follow. At this point, though, they’re even more suspicious of an ambush.

“Everyone okay with stopping for the night?” Warriors calls, as the sky fades to duller shades of orange.

“I’m hardly going to complain,” Sky says, slumping almost on the spot. He’s nearly grey under the flush of exertion. Their pace has been a little much for him, though he hasn’t said a word of complaint. Legend marks that, and hopes they catch up tomorrow.

Wind also collapses more or less where he stands, and starts pulling his boots off. “I hate walking,” he complains, not for the first time. Unlike Sky, he will gleefully inform the world at large of every small discomfort. “Give me a boat any day. Ugh! I have blisters!”

“Were you wearing socks?”

“No! They’re itchy!”

“For the love of Nayru, sailor…”

While Wars patches him up and scolds him over foot care, the rest of them set up camp. “No fire tonight,” Wild tells them, “smoke’s too much of a risk.”

Legend makes a face - cold dinner tonight - but no one argues. It’s at least not cold cold out here. Their bedrolls will be warm enough without the need for a fire to keep from freezing to death.

As Twilight hauls his bedroll down from Epona, he staggers a bit under its weight. And it’s bulky, for sure, but not heavy, not to someone who slings goats around for a living. He must be tired from running back and forth all day long. Legend keeps an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t collapse or something, but Twilight’s just frowning as he lays out the thick padding, struggling with it more than usual. Then, he flips open the top layer.

His bedroll is full of rocks.

Twilight stares. So does everyone else. “What the hell?”

It’s not easy to read Adult!Time - he nearly always looks placidly amused.

Mask’s poker face isn’t nearly as good. Despite having all Time’s control and experience, the softness of his face gives him away. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips go tight trying not to smile.

Twilight spots it immediately. His eyes narrow. As he turns to flee, Mask starts laughing, which both gives him away and makes escaping impossible. Twilight catches him with ease.

“You little gremlin!” Twilight shouts over Mask’s laughter. He shakes him, gently, where he’s dangling him upside down by his ankles.

Mask seems unconcerned by this. He’s still laughing, gleeful and unrepentant in the face of Twilight’s brotherly wrath. “Your face! That was the best, I’m so glad I didn’t do it to Wars he’s so boring about people messing with his bed -”

“What gets me to sleep faster, freaking out about it or fixing the problem?” says Warriors, without looking up.

“See?” Mask complains, giggling as Twilight shakes him again.

“You little gremlin,” Twilight repeats. “I can’t believe you. Come on, then, you’re helping me get all the rocks out.” He flips Mask the right way up and scrubs a rough but friendly hand through his hair.

“‘Kay,” says Mask cheerfully.

It’s not a difficult task - all they really need to do is upend the bedroll and shake it out. Mask hadn’t used any stones smaller than a thumbnail so there was no worry about things getting caught in the corners, and they were all too smooth to damage the fabric. The bedroll is clean and ready to go in less than five minutes. Twilight sighs in relief. “Alright, menace, I’ll let you off the hook - but don’t do it again, y’hear?”

Mask blows a raspberry at him. “It’s no fun doing the same thing twice!”

Then he runs off, jumping on an unsuspecting Wind with a war cry.

Ignoring the wrestling match that breaks out, Twilight asks, “Was he always such a hellion?”

“I think he was actually worse,” says Wars.

-----

This time Legend comes to with a massive fucking headache. Also, the floor is moving, which he does not appreciate at all. It’s making his stomach feel so much worse. He groans in protest, and hears an answering groan from nearby. Fuck, that means he needs to wake up more and be functional.

What had happened? The expected ambush hadn’t been challenging. The moblins were black-blooded, yes, and smart enough to set up shop in the least defensible spot in the region so the Chain had no cover when they attacked, and wound up split off into smaller groups. But between his ice rod and Hyrule’s Thunder spell they’d cleared out the moblins, and the out-of-time lizalfos that showed up to investigate, and he, Hyrule, and Mask had been headed for the last place they’d seen the others when -

Nothing.

So something probably happened in that nothing.

Goddess, his head hurts.

Thinking about it isn’t getting him anywhere, so Legend braces himself to crack open his eyes.

Fortunately, it’s dark, so his head doesn’t do more than thump briefly about the new stimulus before settling down to sulk. Hyrule is the first thing his eyes catch on.

Even in the dark it looks bad. He’s an awkward tangle of limbs in unconsciousness, blood all through his hair and tunic torn over an untreated wound, stirring vaguely when Legend calls his name. Through the gloom, Legend can tell his eyes aren’t quite in focus. Damn. “C’mon, Rulie,” he coaxes, “talk to me.”

Hyrule groans again. “M’head…”

Yeah, that’s fair. Legend looks again at the blood, reminds himself that Hyrule’s at least mostly conscious, and tries to shake off the nausea. Though maybe that’s from the rocking floor. Hopefully Mask at least had gotten away -

“What hit me?” Mask grumbles from behind him, and there goes that hope.

“Fuck this shit,” Legend says, or slurs, rather, and fuck, Rulie’s not the only one with a concussion. No wonder his head is killing him. He tries to roll over - and realises his hands are trapped behind his back, hard-cold-biting-edges pinning his wrists together. His blood goes to ice.

The darkness – the moving floor – the restraints –

It all adds up to captured.

Hyrule’s in the middle of the same realisation – foggy eyes going wide with panic. He thrashes, fighting whatever has his arms pinned, booted feet thumping against the wooden wall.

It’s instinct to lunge forward. Legend discovers too late that his manacles are actually hooked to something, brought up short by the yank in his shoulders. He curses instead, and tries to calm him with words alone. “Easy, easy Rulie, it’ll be okay, we’ll get out of this -”

Hyrule kicks the wall again.

“Please Rulie you’ll hurt yourself -”

The floor jolts to a stop.

Hyrule gasps. Legend’s stomach lurches – partly from the rolling motion ceasing, partly from anxiety at whatever was about to happen. The manacles dig in painfully as he leans back on his arms to roll into a sit. (And ignores the way his vision goes white, then black, then slow, spotty grey, as the pain crests and fades back.)

Footsteps, muffled; crunching on gravel, coming around to the door of the carriage. There’s a long moment of rattling metal. Keys in a lock. Then the door swings wide.

Legend doesn’t let the blinding, nauseating light stop him from barking, “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

Shackled to a wall, concussed and listing, he doesn’t make for a very threatening picture. He only gets laughter in response.

“Whad’you even want with us?” he demands, all too aware of the two behind him. Just as trapped, just as helpless. He’s the oldest, here, the veteran hero; it’s up to him to find a way out.

The bandit grins at him, silhouetted in the doorway.

“Knew we’d get a good haul outta you, didn’t we? At first we was just gonna take your magic stuff. One good quality fire rod can go for thousands to the right buyer. Then we saw ya throwin’ lightnin’ around, an’ realised - just how much more would we get, for real live magical creatures? Ones pretendin’ t’be Hylian, walkin’ among civilised folks? We ain’t dealt in live cargo in a while, but we still got the stuff for it.”

Legend’s only half-listening. As he adjusts to the glare outside he’s scanning and assessing, and does not like what he sees.

A least eight people visible, all in the same sort of hard wearing, mismatched clothing. More surrounding the cart; he can hear muttering and laughter from out of view. Everyone’s hard-eyed and alert, and everyone’s armed. Not with the usual rusty shit bandits tend to scrounge up, either. There’s quality steel on some of those backs. Not good.

“You should let Mask go, then,” Legend argues. “He’s just a kid - he’s got no talent for magic.”

The bandit snorts. “Anyone who can keep up with things like you two’ll be worth somethin’. And those marks? If ‘e ain’t fae-touched, then I’m a chuchu.

“We’ve got a long ways to go yet, so just sit back an’ enjoy the ride. An’ quit kickin’ the walls – ain’t no one out here to hear you, an’ I don’t want you damagin’ the merchandise.”

With one last black grin, the door to the carriage slams closed.

“Well that sounds like bullshit.” Mask sits up, and Legend sees that he’d been bound in rope rather than iron. He hopes, vaguely, that that means these fuckers don’t usually capture children-sized people, and so had to improvise. Whatever the case, it meant a flexible, squirmy child was able to wriggle free, before the carriage even lurches back into motion. “Obviously we’re not gonna stick around here, so what’s the plan?”

“I want my shit back,” says Legend, doing his best not to slur the words. “An’ I’d rather not go through the black market for it.”

“We probably shouldn’t leave these guys to steal things and sell people, either.” Mask makes a face. “No offence, though, you two look like shit. You’re in no condition for a fight.”

Legend growls, but can’t really argue. His headache has not been improved by the rising stress of the situation. If he tried to stand up right now, he’d probably fall, and maybe pass out into the bargain. Hyrule has blood running down his face from the blow that knocked him out, and Legend suspects his successor feels even worse than he does right now. The kid’s barely even following the conversation. “So, what? Think you can jump out of here and find the others in time? Don’t even know where we are.”

“Nah, I’ve got a better idea.” Mask frowns, then, chewing his lip in a way that Warriors would definitely have scolded him for, before saying, “Don’t freak out, okay? Wars always does, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“That is the most concerning thing you could possibly have said,” says Legend, but no one can reach to stop him as he shoves a hand down his own tunic to reveal –

A carved wooden mask.

That’s hardly surprising - Adult!Time has quite the collection, after all. Though why Baby!Time had opted to stash one in his tunic is anyone’s guess. It’s also not one Legend’s seen before. Shaggy white hair, the angles of a Hylian face marked with bright colour, and dark voids where the eyes should be.

A chill runs over him. “Mask - what is that thing?”

Mask hesitates. “Don’t freak out,” he repeats, lifting the wood to his face.

“Mask stop!”

Too late. Mask curls in on himself and keens, high and strangled. There’s a crunching sound like bones underfoot, the squelch of raw meat tearing.

Legend’s shouting. Hyrule’s struggling against the shackles to come and help. But they can’t reach him. Mask is alone, as the sickening noises stop, and his stifled cries go quiet.

“Mask?” Legend calls, suddenly and terribly afraid. “Time?”

Slowly, he turns, and Legend tries not to be visibly alarmed. He’s – too tall to be Mask, and too short to be Adult!Time; he looks Legend’s age, despite the shock white hair. But it’s not that, or the hair, or even the newly-mirrored markings on his face that make his stomach turn. It’s the eyes – pure white, and strangely reflective, like polished porcelain.

They’re empty.

The – being – Legend’s not confident calling them ‘Time’ anymore – glances around the carriage as if taking it in. Their head tilts. Considering. Then, they put one hand over their shoulder to grasp at the air like they’re grasping for a sword. And suddenly there is a sword, nearly as long as he is tall, with two blades intertwined in a strange spiral pattern.

Legend breaks out in a cold sweat.

Fortunately, the being’s not even looking at him. All the intensity of their focus is on the door, contemplating it like a complex dungeon puzzle. Legend’s almost too afraid to breathe, lest it draw the looming mountain of their attention.

Their other hand goes up to the hilt, and they draw.

Legend can’t help it - he scrabbles back, feet slipping on the cool wood. The being doesn’t so much as glance his way. They lift the blade, studying its smooth curves, with no sign of the effort it should take to lift its bulk, and their head tilts again.

Then the sword flashes, and wood explodes outward.

Bandits scream in surprise. Legend can’t see; between the blinding light and the splintered remains of the door his view’s restricted to a sliver, but the being is no longer in the carriage with them and there’s all the sounds of a fight outside. He curses and struggles with his manacles again. Legend hates feeling useless, but here and now, all he can do is listen to the screech of metal on metal, the shouts and curses of the gang, and strange, wet-sounding thumps as heavy things hit the ground and don’t get back up.

Something strikes the cart with enough force to set it rocking. It’s followed by the distinctive sound of a blade thrust into flesh, a boot sucking free of deep mud. Hyrule jolts at the noise, and squints across the wagon at Legend to check him for injury. Legend would laugh if he wasn’t wound so tight.

Eventually, things go quiet, except for the nervous stomping of the carthorse. Legend’s heart is thundering in his ears. He feels like he was the one fighting, the way his breath comes in short, trembling huffs. And with the shouting gone there’s no way to tell what’s happening -

There’s a noise of irritation. Then there’s a crunch, and what’s left of the door wrenches free, letting sunlight stream in unimpeded. Legend squints, but doesn’t turn away. (Hyrule does, burying his face in the floor. Kid must have one hell of a headache.)

The being with Time’s face appears. They are, not unexpectedly, doused in blood. More unexpectedly, the flat expression has relaxed into something not quite like a smile.

It is not reassuring.

The being hauls themselves up into the wagon. Hyrule grunts at the vibration of their boots hitting the floor - now that Legend’s looking, they’re wearing half armour, plates over the chest and legs and heavy armoured boots, completely unlike the child’s tunic Mask had changed into.

“Time?” he tests, deliberately rocking up onto his knees.

As planned, the being’s eyes shift from Hyrule to his movement. “I am not the Hero of Time.” Their head tilts, identical to the way they’d looked at the door, seconds before it turned to matchsticks. Somehow, though, Legend’s not afraid. The sense of constrained energy that had set his teeth on edge just… isn’t there, anymore. “You are bound. I will release you.”

Using the massive sword as a cutting tool seems like overkill, but it gets the job done. There’s a shriek and a crack, and some of the pressure on Legend’s hands releases. When he pulls them around, the band of metal holding the manacles together is cut through.

“If you’re not Time, or - Mask, then - where is he? He better be okay.” The last part comes out forlorn instead of aggressive, which pisses him off.

“The Hero of Time is asleep, young one,” the being tells him. Hyrule’s restraints get the same treatment, letting the dazed hero sit up properly without the chains caught up around their mooring pole. “He will not wake until my task is done.”

“And what is your task, exactly?” Legend moves to check on Hyrule - he’s been way too quiet, even after riding out a panic attack.

“To fight until the fighting is done. That is always my task: to fight the battles the Hero of Time cannot win.”

“Wait, so if he’s had you in reserve this whole time, why hasn’t he ever used you before now?”

The thing wearing Time’s face smiles, slow and cruel.

“He knows better than to call on me for such paltry matters. The cost would be far too high.”

Legend’s heart freezes. “Cost?”

“I am a god of war. And war always takes its price. Where it gets it is of no concern.”

“What kind of cost? If you’ve hurt him -”

“The Hero of Time has always been very aware of the price some things demand. For that reason alone, he would have been one of my favoured.” The being sighs, still smiling that terrifying smile. “But… my work is done, and the penance is paid. Farewell for now, heroes.” They lift one hand to their familiar-alien face.

The change back is quicker, somehow. A rush of air and magic power draining away, and suddenly it’s Mask’s hands holding the carved wooden face, smiling up at Legend. He looks tired, but not wrecked, as Legend had feared when he’d heard the enchantment boiling to life through his bones. “So, was he nice to you? He better have been. I yelled at him the last time he scared Wars.”

“I don’t think ‘nice’ is the right word to use,” says Legend, still a little stunned.

Mask groans. “Did he at least solve our bandit problem?” He hops back out of the wagon to check. Legend, after taking a moment to collect the still-unsteady Hyrule, follows.

Outside is sheer carnage. It’s less ‘bodies’ than ‘pieces’, and Legend has to look away and swallow hard. He’s not used to this kind of aftermath - doesn’t usually fight people, just manifestations of hatred that can’t hold corporeal form once killed.

There’s so much blood.

Mask ignores it with an ease that Legend’s going to find upsetting later. He leads them around to the front of the cart, where the carnage is less; the bandits had all rushed to the main source of the fight, not hung around waiting for it to come to them. The bay mare hooked up to the wagon snorts at them, eyes and nostrils wide.

“He left the horse alive,” Legend says blankly. He’d heard it, even after the sounds of battle faded, but somehow hadn’t quite conceptualised it.

“Well sure. It’s not her fault she was owned by assholes.” Mask steadies the mare with a few gentle words and a firm hand on the bridle. “Besides - she can carry us a lot further and a lot faster than we can go on foot. Now c’mon, help me search this thing for our bags, ‘cause if they dumped them somewhere it’s gonna make our lives so much harder.”

Legend does in fact find their packs, in a poorly-hidden compartment under the driver’s bench. Which is great, because now he doesn’t have to go hunting his gear down. It’s even better because there’s still half a red potion in here somewhere with Hyrule’s name on it.

Hyrule’s eyes clear as the potion does its work, though there’s still a visible knot above his ear. “Legend, what - you okay?”

“He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine except the bad guys,” Mask interrupts. “More importantly: how are we gonna get back to the others?”

“I say we head back the way we came and make a decision when there’s a split in the road,” says Legend. He really just wants to be done with this day. Sleep sounds fantastic right now, so it’s a pity he’s got long hours piecing together the bandits’ route ahead of him. He hates backtracking. Backtracking on other people’s bullshit is even worse.

The horse doesn’t care about backtracking; the horse is all too eager to leave the blood-soaked stretch of road behind them, once they get her turned around. In hindsight, Legend’s really glad she didn’t take off when people started dying loudly and messily nearby. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he also doesn’t fancy being chained up in the back of a runaway cart.

Miracle of miracles, they’ve been on the road less than half an hour when they start seeing flashes of colour through the trees. Hyrule squints. “Is that Four?”

“Aaand Wolfie,” says Mask with a sigh, as frantic barking becomes audible.

“Thank Nayru, Din and Farore,” says Four, flinging himself off Wolfie when the canine skids to a halt. “We were so worried, are you all alright, are those manacles - fuck, Ledge, you’re bleeding -”

“What, still?” says Legend blankly, touching fingers to scalp.

Wolfie glances up from where he’d been sniffing noses with the carthorse and gives a disapproving ‘boof’.

“Shut up, there was more important shit to deal with,” Legend tells him.

Four makes short work of the manacles - someday Legend’s going to ask just how he manages to keep a mini-forge on his person at all times - and he’s just pulling off the last one when the rest of the group comes jogging up.

“Goddesses, Mask, what happened?!” Wild exclaims. “You’ve got -” he gestures to his face - “all over!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he does that when I’m little.” Mask runs an absent-minded finger over one blood-marked cheek. “The markings are protective. In places where they’re known, bad guys won’t risk touching me. Even Ghirahim thought twice, and he was a grade-A creeper. Sorry, Sky.”

“Why are you apologising, you’re right,” Sky protests. “Also what’s this about you dealing with Ghirahim, oh my god-”

Honestly, Legend hadn’t even noticed that when the being faded away to leave Mask in their place, the facial markings had stayed, instead of the half-version he was used to seeing on Time. He touches his head again with a frown.

“Legend needs a potion!” Hyrule calls.

“Hyrule needs another one!” Legend shoots back.

Warriors rolls his eyes and hands them both a bottle. “Things must have been pretty dire if he had to use the Fierce Deity, and to be honest you both look like hell.”

“Fuck you too,” Legend grumbles. In truth, the potion is working wonders on the stabbing pain behind his eyes. He hadn’t even realised how sore his neck and back were until it all starts to fade, leaving him wrung-out and tired. It’s almost worth the horrible bitter taste, not at all hidden by the wildberries Wild had tried adding.

While they were getting medic-ed the conversation had gone on without them, which means Legend is treated to the hilarious and context-free picture of ten-year-old Mask being toted around on Sky’s hip like a four-year-old. Mask is clearly resigned to this, if not exactly pleased.

He’s even less pleased when Warriors starts questioning him. “So what’s this I hear about letting Fierce Deity out to play without a minder?”

“Oh come on, he’s fine!”

Legend thinks back to waiting chained up in near-darkness, wet gurgles and the choked cries of the dying outside with no way to know if they would be next, and has to hold back a shudder.

-----

Inspired by this amazing piece of art!

[questionableratatouille00]

Basements and other HYDRA Bullshit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: All was going well until your Boyfriend’s past comes back to haunt him.

Note: Day five of @ailesswhumptober2023! (Hostage/Kidnapping/Held at gunpoint.)

Warnings: Cursing, guns, knives, violence, blood, injuries, Winter Soldier topics. (Torture, murder, etc.)

—————————————————————————

The room felt like it was spinning as you felt warm blood drip down the side of your face. The knife slash to your temple had seemed more of a minor inconvenience at the time, but you now wished you’d stopped to at least quickly bandage it.

“So, you think you can take away the words and you’ll be free? Hm?” The accent of the man speaking was strong, and you knew he was addressing Bucky rather than you.

“The Winter Soldier is gone.” You hissed, not even sparing a glance at Bucky. You couldn’t handle it and you knew it, too.

“The words were only one way to activate HYDRA’s greatest weapon. We have others.” The man grinned devilishly, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re gonna leave him alone.” Growling as you said this, you tried to force yourself forward. The chains around your wrists bound you to the walls of the dark, cold, and unwelcoming cell you were in.

“You are not in control here!” He rushed out the words as he barked them. He completed his sentence by raising his hand, ready to backhand you across the face. “I am!” He sounded erratic, and absolutely deranged.

“Don’t touch her.” Bucky’s voice was low, and dark.

“Or what?” The man spat, grinning. “What are you going to do about it?” He pulled a small red book from his pocket.

You couldn’t really recognize what the book was, but you knew it was significant. It matched the description of a book Bucky had told you about, the one that haunted him in his dreams and in his flashbacks.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Bucky glared at the man defiantly, and you attempted to copy his expression.

“You can try. But you are a dog, and this is your leash!” He waved the book in front of Bucky’s face, taunting him.

“Who the hell are you?” You asked finally.

“You should ask your companion this. Tell me, Soldat, do you remember her? Do you remember my daughter?” He barked.

You could feel your own heart sink, and with one glance at Bucky, you knew he was feeling the same thing. “Buck, who is this?”

“Victor Rostov.” He stated. “His daughter’s name is—“

“Was. Her name was Alina! She was eight. Eight years old, and you shot her in the head! You’re nothing but a monster! A monster!” Rostov howled as he raged.

“It wasn’t his fault!” You shouted at him. You didn’t want Bucky to have to hear any of this.

“She died at his hands!”

“HYDRA called for no survivors, right? They wouldn’t target a child.” You tried to reason. You didn’t want to think about how they totally would target a child.

“She’d be twenty eight! My daughter, my little girl, will never be able to live. And he can’t even fucking remember her?” Rostov’s voice was filled with pain, and you could tell that she meant a lot to him.

“I remember all of them.” Bucky admitted grimly.

“You deserve to die, monster. And so you shall.” He clicked a gun in his pocket, raising it to Bucky’s forehead.

“Hey! Hey, let’s talk about this.” You gasped, ready to beg. Rostov could hurt you all he wanted, but not Bucky. He couldn’t take Bucky from you.

You panted as blood dripped from your temple onto the ground, making a tiny little puddle. It made you feel sick, just seeing it.

“Why shouldn’t I—“ A loud gunshot rang out through the cell, or really the small basement you were being kept in. You shrieked, tears immediately rushing to your eyes as you screamed.

“Bucky! Bucky! Bucky, no! No!” You sobbed, as Rostov fell to the floor.

“It’s us! It’s us!” A few familiar voices shouted. Natasha, Steve, and Tony.

“It’s not me! It’s not me!” Bucky reassured you at the same time as you wailed.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You sobbed. “I thought you got shot. I thought you got shot.” You couldn’t seem to get enough air into your lungs, making your words, which were already mostly sobs, seem a bit breathy.

Steve and Natasha immediately rushed to the to of you, unchaining you from the walls. Tony stayed back in case anybody else was around.

“Not shot there.” Bucky tried to make you feel better, but the truth was that Rostov had shot him in the thigh before he’d died. The two of you were safe, and that was all that mattered.

—————————

“What he said..about the monster thing. It’s not true.” You said as you got to work on patching up Bucky’s thigh.

“Not so sure about that, dollface.”

“It’s not.” You glanced up at him, before looking back down at his thigh. “Promise.”

“If you say so.” He sighed, accepting defeat here. You nodded once, getting ready to bandage the wound.

“I do say so.” After a long pause, you continued. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ve been through worse. I’ll live.”

“I didn’t ask if you’ll live. I asked if you’ll be okay.”

“I will be okay.” He laughed every so lightly, and you smiled.

He would be okay. And so would you.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Just did a rewatch of OFMD S2 Eps 6/7 and: (Yes, it DEFINITELY got better)

*All pacing issues and some cast being in scenes when others aren't is the fault of the studios being cheap and not the writers/creators. :) Flying the cast to New Zealand + housing them for filming meant some crew just couldn't be there (Fang, Roach, Olu) or mostly written out (Buttons, Swede).

The reason this season feels *weird* is just that. It is not the fault of the actors or any of the workers in New Zealand who got jobs because they were the cheaper, nonunion, option.

I was mainly mad due to some pacing things that, after I thought about it, I don't think *I* was ready for them to make jokes about, if that makes sense. Izzy is such a personal character for me that some of the stuff they joke about just...hits.

*While the show kind of blowing off Izzy's repressed feelings for Ed did originally piss me off (the 'jealous' comment from Ed in ep 7 especially), reframing the scenes as Izzy letting himself mourn this and seeing how easily he lets Ed go does make me happy. He will love Ed. That's just a fact. But he is not his relationship with Ed he is defined by what he does with it. Yes, they can joke about it. Izzy has probably defined their relationship as something that just can't happen. Either by thinking Ed could never love him or that Ed never cared. Izzy knew Ed's attention was always fleeting and MAYBE that's some BS way we can say eps 5, 6, and 7 happened within a few days of each other. Because...if Izzy is just repressing everything again. I swear. This show will not give me the polycule I want.

*Stede and Izzy work so fucking well as friends. Like. Izzy knows how Stede will use the bar as validation and is READY to fight for him. Stede knows Izzy will stand to fight with him. The way Izzy looks so DONE when Stede starts to fight? Izzy just lost Ed god damn it. That, and the thigh grab will be in my head forever... stizzy fans also win.

*Imagine having sex with the only person you've ever loved and they ditch the next day. Add that to Stede's own insecurities and it's like the writers had a checklist on how to break Stede Bonnet.

*Ed is leaving a manic period (started maybe ep 2), and entering a depressive period in episode 6 where he remembers 'oh yeah, I fucking hate pirating'.

*Both Stede and Ed want very different things in life and this conflict was always going to happen. But at the begining of ep 6 we see Ed replaying the abuse he's caused/experienced. He's mentally framing himself as a hazard. Stede enjoys the life Ed is desperately running from. This is why Izzy is so quick to grab Stede I think. To help him understand that Ed is just...a complicated man.

*Izzy was right about Ed needing to give Stede some time to sit with the death of Ned Low. Ed barging in allowed Stede to put his negative feelings into something positive, not fully allowing him to process his actions. Ed then uses their first time as an excuse to run away.

*Izzy is hot in both episodes :) End note. But for me, the reason the Drag scene felt weird on first watch is just that I can't read half the cast's face soemtimes. Its a me thing. On this rewatch I noticed them cheering and generally being more supportive, lol.

*I wish we got to see Izzy putting the drag makeup on. Even just a line of concealer. Putting on the character he'd embody for the night. Drag is such a practice of self realizion and community. I wish we got to see Izzy staring at himself, applying the mark on his face that he clearly loves so much.

*The concept of Ned Low- A vicious torture-focused pirate, sadly was handled like a minor inconvenience, and... while I like the masochism joke from Izzy, and the implications for Stede's arc, he felt weird and out of place. Like. Instead of tying Low's bad management to something like the Navy, why not the Kraken? The stuff was there for it. Show how shitty working on a ship that prioritizes violence is, and mirror it with Ed's growth.

*I love the ship design for Ep 6 so much.

*The Ed&Izzy apology still bugs me but I have hope Izzy and Ed will talk it out a bit more after talks with some of the lovelies online

*I love the crew but acknowledge that this season has shafted a lot of stories. Clearly, the writers did what they could.

*Izzy's 'love interest' this season is clearly just the 'community/self' and finding comfort in humanity again...its so GOOD.

*Izzy casually making sex jokes is so weird. Like a coworker you've known for a few years that finally starts talking shit with you on the job. It feels weird to me now, but I also write him like this? So it's a lot of wires crossing in my mind. Like...he FUCKS!

*Same with Izzy smiling. It feels wrong in the best way. Again, I wish we had ONE MORE episode of Izzy being in the middle of healing, but this more self-realized Izzy is lovely to watch.

*They changed the gender of the song Izzy sings so he's singing about a man. I will not be normal about this.

*I'm so happy I caught Izzy's hand being that FUCKING HIGH on Stede's inner leg first watch. It's changed me. Izzy really said 'When the dogs are away the cats are out to play' and POUNCED.

*I didn't catch Izzy pointedly calling Stede captain until I saw it online and now I love it. Stede adopted the stray cat and god damn he'll stay loyal until the day he dies.

*Spoilers for the teaser: If the series Ends and Izzy is in solitary confinement/Izzy is locked away from the others I will scream

*"Hiya, Boys" I LOVE HIM. Izzy confidently grinning and being a prick is my favorite.

*izzy loving Ed enough to let him go is just....so tragic and good. Especially since we know Ed just tried to hold izzy closer in s1

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Thirty-Two

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 5545

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A few days had passed since the incident with Sugiyama and Emiko, and apart from occasional and minor migraines, you had no other side effects from the fight. Your face looked quite good, although internally you were starting to feel some kind of anxiety. 

It had nothing to do with the fact that you had been staying in your home all this time under the very watchful eye of Haruchiyo Sanzu, which was why you weren't able to find out any new information about your older half-brother. And the anxiety was not caused by the increasingly visible impatience of the pink-haired man himself, who contacted Kakucho or Mikey himself every other day to ask about some new information, and the latter about his well-being. 

It was more about the fact that today was the penultimate day of the month and you still hadn't received any information from your uncle, Tsuyoshi L/n. You didn't mention anything to Sanzu because you didn't really know where to start. 

What if you received a message but you were never able to read it? After all, Sanzu had free access to your phone, not just while you were sleeping. Rindou once explained to you what kind of tracking app your boss and lover were using. He could easily manipulate the incoming call history and delete unwanted messages using his phone. He had insight into everything and even though it wasn't right, it somehow didn't bother you. You had nothing to hide... 

The only thing you made him aware of was the fact that you knew he was following you. You put up with this little inconvenience, but maybe it wasn't so bad after all? Maybe one day, his desire for control and power over you will save your life? Of course, provided that he doesn't deprive you of your phone first, as happened quite recently... 

You looked through the message and call history of Tsuyoshi's number once again, but you didn't notice any changes. You bit the inside of your cheek a little harder and rested your chin on the hand you had on the kitchen table. 

“What are you waiting for, Y/n?” Haruchiyo asked as he entered the kitchen with a towel over his head. "You're nervous and you don't leave your phone anywhere." 

"I'm waiting to hear from Tsuyoshi." 

"What for? Is there anything else he needs to contact you for?” He took a bottle of water from the fridge and took a few sips. "I thought you had already cleared things up between yourselves." 

“That's true, but…” You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “There's something I haven't told you until now.” 

"Yes?" His gaze was cold and searching. "I'm all ears." 

"I've thought it over and despite ignoring you and sticking to my guns, I've changed my mind and decided to resign for the good of everyone." 

Sanzu looked at you like you were stupid, not understanding at all what you were talking about. He took another sip of water from the bottle and turned his head slightly to the side. 

“And now, please, again, but with more details, so that I know which topic you are referring to.” 

“Huh?” You asked surprised, not understanding what the man didn't understand. 

"You didn't listen to our advice on many issues and didn't change your mind until Rosie grabbed you by the face and explained all the pros and cons to you like a little child." 

"Not at all." You replied indignantly. 

"Of course." He drank water again. “So?” 

You sighed dramatically and pursed your lips slightly. “It's about my child.” 

"Yes?" 

"After talking to Tsuyoshi, I decided not to try to adopt Yuuta." 

"We told you this from the beginning, and only after talking to a guy you haven't seen for several years and haven't talked to for an even longer time... Have you decided to come to your senses?" 

You thought in silence for a moment and sensing Sanzu's annoyance, you nodded in agreement. 

"All right." He closed the water bottle and put it back in the fridge. "What changed?" 

“My uncle had been following Emiko's case for a long time and knew about Yuuta. When the boy came to the orphanage, under the influence of his wife, he decided to apply for adoption so that Yuuta would stay in the family and not go to someone else." 

"That's... Very good-natured of him." Haruchiyo thought about it, uncertainty appearing on his face. "So, why are you waiting to hear from him?" 

"It's supposed to let me know when I can see the boy." 

"What?" Sanzu jumped up to the table and braced himself on the counter with both hands. “Y/n! He works for the police! This could be a trap!” 

"I know, but I trust him and Tsuyoshi knows perfectly well that playing the child card is the worst idea he could ever come up with..." 

“I don't understand how you can trust members of your old family again so quickly…” He shook his head, taking off the towel, and longer strands of his still damp hair fell to his shoulders, gently wetting the fabric of the white T-shirt he borrowed from you. 

“I trusted Tsuyoshi more than my own father. He never pressured me to change my life. He always only told me to remember my mother and sisters.” You took a long look at the man who started moving around the kitchen. He looked great in a suit, but in a plain T-shirt and sweatpants, he looked just as good. You could see him like this a lot more often. "In addition, my uncle defended me many times, for which my father banned him from appearing in our house." 

“Yeah, actually, you mentioned something once…” Haruchiyo sighed, as if coming to terms with the decision you had already made. “So… When you get the text with your appointment… Will you go?” 

“That's my intention.” And seeing the man's expression, you raised one hand slightly. "I won't change my mind, and if you try to stop me by force..." 

“Fuck off.” The man grumbled, taking a wet towel from the back of the chair and leaving the kitchen, so you followed him. 

“I'm serious, Sanzu. Don't try to do this. Being able to see my own son means a lot to me.” 

“Try to convince me.” He threw the towel into the washing machine where other clothes and used towels were already waiting and turned it on. 

“You know I can do this myself?” You asked, watching as Haruchiyo prepared a smaller drying rack for clothes and clothes pegs. 

"I know. Do not change the subject." 

You took the folded clothes dryer from his hands, dragged it out onto the terrace and unfolded it. 

"The point is that thanks to the next meeting, not only will I be able to see my firstborn son, I will be able to ask Tsuyoshi about my brother." 

“What can he tell you about him?” 

“He's known him longer than I have, and on top of that…” You looked away for a moment. “For some reason I don't remember everything related to Yuji. Maybe my uncle could help me understand why?” 

"I know how important this child is to you, Y/n." He said calmly. “You haven't convinced me completely, but I see that there are actually more benefits to be gained from it. Remember to keep your phone close to you…” 

“You're going to follow me.” You said, giving him a quick glance. 

"Better. I'll be hanging around.” He smiled mischievously, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Just give me a sign and I will come.” 

"My personal Guardian Angel with a halo supported by horns." You said thoughtfully and Haruchiyo's smile grew even bigger. 

"And you love me anyway." 

“And I will love you.” You kissed his cheek, touched his hair and smiled slightly. "Let's go back inside, in a moment you won't be able to style your hair." 

"Then stop bothering me." He mumbled, still smiling, but allowed you to lead him back inside the house. 

He climbed the stairs to the second floor and after a short while you heard the sound of a hair dryer being turned on. So you went back to the kitchen where you left your phone, but after checking it, it turned out that you still had no new messages from Tsuyoshi. 

You took the device into the living room and sat comfortably on your white sofa and turned on the TV, looking for a show or movie to occupy your mind and pass the time. You stopped at a cooking show that piqued your interest and focused on it. Maybe one of the presented recipes will inspire you and you will be able to surprise Haruchiyo with a dish or dessert? 

“Isn't there anything better?” The pink haired man asked as he sat down comfortably next to you and swallowed one pill from his small bottle which he set down on the small table next to the sofa. 

You handed him the TV remote and as he took it from your hand to start switching channels, you grabbed his legs and pulled them onto the sofa, placing his feet comfortably on your thighs. 

"What are you doing?" He asked in amusement, trying to take his legs away, but you held them, and he gave in. 

"Nothing special." You answered him thoughtfully and slowly took off his white cotton socks. 

"It doesn't look like nothing to me... What are you planning?" 

You ran your hands over his feet a few times and stopped at his ankles. The size of his feet was very similar to yours, but they were narrower. You looked at them from above and below... You looked at every single finger... 

“Y/n?” The tone of his voice betrayed slight concern, but when you looked into his face, there was a hesitant smile playing on his pale pink lips. “You've already seen my feet. What are you looking for on them?” 

“I've never seen them this close. They are pretty.” You replied and began to gently press the center of his balls of foot with your thumbs, making small circular motions. A surprised gasp escaped Haruchiyo's lips as his upper body rested on both elbows. “Relax, please.” 

“They are bigger than women's feet…” 

"I know." You continued to apply pressure to the soles of his feet and after a short while, you gently grabbed the toes of both of his feet. “I also know you looked through the photo gallery and saw pictures of different pairs of feet.” 

"That's true." You saw Hatuchiyo's eyes focus on your hands. “I've seen quite a few pictures of women's feet, mainly one pair... Let me guess, Rosie?” 

“Rosie and Miki.” You said more quietly and started rubbing one of his feet. At first gently, but with each of his sharp inhales, you increased the pressure of your thumbs. “There were men's feet there too.” 

“Aha… Not necessarily mine, which is…” A small, strangled cry escaped his lips as you hit a weak spot with your thumbs. “Which is strange because of your fixation on me…” 

You smiled to yourself, hearing a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Yes?" 

“Whose feet are these?” 

“Do you really want to know?” 

“If I didn't want to... Fuck, Y/n!” He tried to remove his leg from your thighs, but when you looked at his face, you saw no sign of discomfort. Quite the opposite. “Whose feet are these?” 

“These are photos of Ran Haitani's feet.” You replied and Sanzu's bright eyes widened in complete disbelief and shock. You smiled and brought his foot to your lips. “Yours turn me on more.” 

Before Sanzu could say anything, you managed to place a series of tender kisses on his foot. You kept your eyes on the man's face the whole time and you could clearly see the emotions that appeared on it alternately. 

He finally pressed his other foot against your face, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Are you telling me that you were jerking off to Ran's feet pics?” He asked coldly and you blinked in surprise. 

“I had to help myself with something…” You tried to explain yourself, but it was a mistake. 

What were you thinking? 

“When did you take these photos?” He asked in an icy tone, pressing his foot harder against your face and a rather pleasant shiver ran down your spine. 

"A few years ago. When he fell asleep on the couch during a small meeting.” You replied, feeling your face start to turn red, which the pink-haired man certainly didn't miss. “The sound of the camera merged with the boys' screams as someone accidentally knocked a bottle of sake off the table…” 

“So, you took advantage of the commotion effectively, huh?” He snorted mockingly, running his foot across your cheek. "Pervert. Does this turn you on?” 

You held his calf in both hands, focusing on the softness of his sole, when suddenly his other foot was on your private parts. Your eyes widened rapidly, and your breath caught in your throat. When you looked at Sanzu's face, you saw that he was studying you intently from under his thick eyelashes, the scarred corners of his mouth turning up in a mischievous smirk. 

He began to slowly knead your manhood with his foot and with each movement you began to get more and more excited. There was nothing you could do about it. 

“Fucking pervert…” He murmured and a shuddering breath escaped your lips, sweeping hot air over his foot. 

“You know that…” You swallowed hard, moving one hand to hold his foot against your face. “Is what you're doing enough to make me cum?” 

"This is something new. Will you dirty your pants in front of me?” The tone of his voice promised pleasure and he increased the intensity of rubbing your penis through the fabric of your clothes. 

“Sanzu…” You started kissing his foot again, and after a while your tongue started moving along his smooth, soft skin. 

“Fuck…” The gangster groaned in surprise and you shot him a heated glare. 

“I want you, Haruchiyo.” You mumbled, gently brushing your lips against his skin and a deep blush appeared on his face. 

His smile disappeared completely, and a glint of uncertainty appeared in his eyes, which quickly disappeared, replaced by something dark and hot. "Then, what are you waiting for?" He asked in a deeper voice, smiling defiantly. 

You ran your tongue over the bottom of his foot one more time and moved it aside, making room right between his legs. You moved closer and closer to him, holding one of his thighs in your hand and running your other hand up his other leg, his hip, his side, until you rested that hand right next to his head. 

All this time you were looking into his eyes, which were watching you tensely, waiting for what would happen next. You leaned over his face, gently tracing the tip of your nose along his red-hot cheek, all the way to his ear. You inhaled his scent hard and slowly, moving the leg you were holding so that the man was resting it on your hip and sliding your hand down his slightly tense thigh to his hip and back again. 

“You're so tense, Haru.” You whispered straight into his ear, grinding your hips against his and feeling your lover start to get excited about the closeness of your bodies. "Relax." 

“I see you are gaining strength. Is your head no longer bothering you?” He joked, running both of his hands down your back, the nape of your neck, and his fingers tightened lightly in your hair. 

“You took such wonderful care of me…” You started kissing his neck, gently grazing it with your teeth every now and then. 

You looked deeply into each other's eyes and your lips connected in a kiss that became hotter and more passionate with each movement of your lips. Your breathing quickened, and so did your heartbeats, which were actually pounding in your chests. 

You slipped one of your hands under his white t-shirt and felt his abdominal muscles twitch under your touch. You pulled the fabric up, exposing his muscled, pale chest, and attacked his neck again. 

Your caresses became a little more aggressive, and when the fingers of your hand found one of his peachy pink nipples, a soft moan escaped Sanzu's sweet lips. 

His leg moved down your thigh and back up again, and your teeth closed gently on his throat, causing you to hear a strangled yelp of surprise instead of a moan. He inhaled sharply and you closed two fingers around his sensitive button. 

“Y/n!” Haruchiyo choked out and you kissed his jawline a few times. “Fuck!” 

You laughed briefly and focused on his lips again, continuing to play with his nipple. You licked his lower lip, then sucked it gently and when you moved your face away from his you saw how swollen and red it was. 

“This has never happened before…” Sanzu smiled, his dilated pupils filled with joy and surprise. 

“There will be more…” You answered him with a smile and moved your face to his heaving chest and the tip of your tongue began to circle his nipple, which until now you had been treating with your fingers. 

Sanzu sighed at the new caress, and as soon as you closed your lips on his erect nipple, he froze for a split second. You began to suck gently, feeling the strong, fast beat of his heart, and suddenly his hips lifted up and his cock rubbed against your lower abdomen through the material of his pants. 

You started sucking his button with more enthusiasm, listening to the alternating moans and soft curses that escaped his lips. You bit him gently with your teeth and moved back up, successfully blocking the string of curses that flowed from his lips with a deep and long kiss. 

His hand tightened on the back of your neck, forcing you to deepen the kiss again, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth. A little bit of saliva leaked from your mouths, but neither of you cared and continued caressing until you were out of breath. 

“Shit…” Sanzu panted, wiping the saliva from your chin with his thumb and you took his finger in your mouth, sucking on it lightly. “Hah... You like sucking that much, huh?” You looked into his face through narrowed eyes and saw his lips stretch into a smile. “I've got something better for you to suck on, darling.” 

The confidence in his voice made you shiver in pleasure, and you released his thumb from your mouth which he ran slowly across your lower lip. “Yes... Put that pretty mouth of yours to some use.” 

You smiled at his permission and slowly began to slide down his body. His leg, which had been resting on your hip, slid onto the sofa and the man gave you better access to his private parts. 

You stopped just above the hem of his pants and looked up at his face. He looked at you from under his long, thick eyelashes and you could clearly see his eyes shining. You began to slowly slide down his sweatpants, revealing the swollen veins in his lower abdomen that pumped blood to his manhood. 

You slid his pants and underwear down to his buttocks and focused your eyes on his swollen erection, which rested on his lower abdomen. It greeted you with its charmingly red head, the sight of which made you reflexively lick your lips, feeling more saliva begin to gather in your mouth. 

Sanzu's slender fingers ran through your hair tenderly and a wave of laughter shook his body. “God, Y/n. You look like a child who saw his favorite lollipop in a shop window.” 

“Don't be mean.” You started kissing his swollen vein, deliberately avoiding his cock. “Or I might start biting.” 

“You wouldn't dare.” The answer came out of his mouth, his fingers still running through your hair. 

You placed your face against the base of his cock, closed your eyes and began to inhale his scent, the deep scent of musk. A soft growl escaped your throat, and you nuzzled your nose into his neatly trimmed pubic hair. 

“Ah... I regret leaving my phone in the bedroom.” He muttered, slightly disappointed. “I could make a nice souvenir.” 

“And take the risk that Rindou or Ran would find the recording?” You kissed the base of his member and gently closed your mouth over one of his testicles, causing Haruchiyo to shudder and groan. 

“Right… But it would be nice to go back to that…” He breathed out as you dragged your tongue along his entire length, teasing his fernulum with the tip. “Do it again... Please.” 

You repeated the caress and took his cock in one hand so you could start licking the entire head. You ran your tongue over the tiny hole several times, at one point collecting the first drop of pre-ejaculate that appeared, reassuring you that your lover was very aroused, and it probably shouldn't take you too long to make him cum. 

Not wanting to waste any time, you closed your mouth around his tip and started sucking. Haruchiyo was right. Since the last time you pleasured him orally, his cock has become your favorite... dessert. 

You started moving your hand up and down, adjusting the intensity of the suction to suit your movement, and after a few seconds you heard the man's heavy breathing. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, almost to your skin, and one of his legs rested on your back, forcing you to stay in one place. 

“Nghh… Fuck…” He groaned and you started moving your head in the wake of your hand, trying to give your beloved man as much pleasure as possible. 

Knowing full well that no one from the street would be able to hear anything, Haru began to let out loud moans that sounded like the sweetest music to your ears. 

You focused on the caresses, making slurping sounds every now and then, not wanting to completely drool everything, but suddenly his hand pushed your head down and the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your throat felt violent, and you jerked back. 

“I'm sorry…” Sanzu choked out as you coughed and hot tears fell from your eyes. 

You raised one hand and your lips stretched into a slightly forced smile. “It's nothing... *cough, cough* I'm just not used to it... *cough, cough, cough* I thought you'd let me suck you for a while... *cough* Before you start fucking my mouth.” 

Sanzu laughed and ran his hand over your cheek. “You know I can't hold back when a slut sucks my cock so well.” 

You laughed back at him and leaned down over his erection again. You looked at his face and saw him biting his lower lip. 

“Am I that good?” You asked, teasingly raising one eyebrow. 

“If you weren't…” 

“Yeah, yeah. I understand." You closed your mouth on his cock again and started sucking it harder. After a short while, you released it with a loud *pop* and Sanzu looked at you in surprise. 

"What?" He asked in a slightly strangled voice. 

“I was wondering... Would you like to try it?” 

“Try it?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows, and you began to trace your finger along his lower abdomen, gently scratching his sensitive skin with your nails. 

"Well, you know. Don't you want anal?” 

"Means..." 

“I want to feel you inside me, Haruchiyo.” You explained, looking at his reddened face. 

He was silent for a moment, as if considering your proposal, but when you saw his penis twitch, he smiled broadly and pushed himself up into a sitting position. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, amused. 

“I guess that would be fair, don't you think?” 

"But we'll do it the way I want." 

You nodded and the man stood up from the sofa, removing his pants and underwear completely. “Strip.” He gave a short command, taking off his T-shirt and throwing it on the carpet. 

You obeyed him and your pants landed near his clothes, exposing your erection, but as you started to take off your T-shirt, Sanzu grabbed your arm, turned you around abruptly, and your face landed on the colorful pillows that decorated your sofa. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the pink-haired man's strong hands lifted your ass to the right height and his fingers spread your butt cheeks. 

“What a view…” You heard his voice and felt him put one leg on the seat of the sofa for balance. “I knew you had a nice ass, but…” His erection slid between your buttocks, effectively teasing your anus. “Hmm... There will be something to bounce off of.” 

“Sanzu…” You gasped, completely surprised and embarrassed by his comment, but you took his words as a compliment and another wave of heat flooded your face. 

“So…” He moved his hips a few more times, pulling his cock through the gap that had formed. “Do you have condoms lying around somewhere or do you just keep them in the bedroom?” 

“One or two should be in the drawer of the cabinet.” You gestured to a small piece of furniture standing right next to the sofa. 

"Seriously? And what do you need them for in the living room?” He asked in amusement, but you couldn't find a good answer to that. “Naughty boy…” 

He pulled away from you for a moment and you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching his every move. You watched as he expertly placed the condom on his cock and when he looked at you, he raised one eyebrow. 

“Tell me. You've been planning this for a while.” 

“Maybe…” You blushed, knowing full well that you had been caught red-handed. The condom was coated with lubricant. 

The man stood behind you again and spread your buttocks with his thumbs. “It's going to be tight.” He mumbled excitedly and when he placed the tip of his cock against your hole, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't wait. 

You gritted your teeth tightly and closed your eyes as you felt him slowly slide into you. Your fingers tightened on one of the decorative pillows and as soon as the whole head was buried inside you, you let out a soft moan. 

“Oh, fuck… Y/n…” Sanzu panted, pausing for a moment before sliding a little further into your hot interior, pulling it out gently and inserting his entire length with one confident thrust. “Fuck... Ah... Hah... I've been focusing on pussy for so long that I forgot what it feels like to stick my dick up someone's ass....” 

“Haru…chiyo…” You moaned as you felt new tears fall from your eyes. At first you felt an unpleasant pain and your body tried to protest, but when the man's hands stroked your buttocks and back, you began to relax. “You can start moving…” 

Sanzu groaned and began to slowly move his hips, sliding in and out. With each movement you began to feel more and more pleasure. You haven't let anyone do this for a long time. 

“Just look at this... How wonderful you take my cock.” He said in surprise and a pleasant shiver ran through your body. “So tight and eager… Hmm… How delicious your ass sucks in, love… Fuck…” His movements became more confident and powerful until you felt him bouncing against your buttocks. 

Threads of saliva began to flow from your mouth, soaking into the pillow as you tried to muffle your pleasure-filled screams and moans, and your other hand began to wander to your hard penis, which was swinging in the air with each thrust of Haruchiyo Sanzu's hips. His heavy balls bounced against yours. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk... No touching. Hands ahead.” The man said, knowing exactly what you wanted to do, and you listened to him. 

“Haru… Please…” 

“We do it my way, remember, honey?” His hands tightened on your hips, guiding them towards his cock with each strong thrust. 

With each movement you felt more and more bliss and you knew perfectly well that you were close to your release. At times, the muscles of your rectum tightened around the volume of Sanzu's penis, giving him additional pleasure from sexual intercourse, and the man began to emit single moans and grunts that were getting louder. 

“I'm close, Sanzu…” You said and your fingers gripped the pillow tighter. All your muscles began to tense up more and more, and your thigh muscles began to tremble. 

“Hold on… Hah... Just a little longer, my sunshine…” He sped up his movements, which became more and more violent, and you could easily tell that he was pounding on you like a hammer on an anvil, but you were too busy chasing your impending orgasm to worry about the consequences that will come after. 

As his thrusts became erratic, you felt your cock twitch a few times, shooting out a load of hot cum, which you sloppily tried to catch in your hand so as not to make a mess. You had to muffle your scream by pressing your face into the pillow. 

Your anus tightened as Sanzu was balls deep inside you, his moans and grunts blending in with yours. 

Suddenly he fell on your back, breathing heavily, and his hands began to wander around your body, hooking onto your penis, the sensitive head of which leaked the remnants of cum, and he laughed quietly. 

He buried his face in your hair and sighed contentedly. He started kissing the back of your neck and after a moment he pulled away, carefully sliding his softening cock out of your aching asshole. 

You didn't change your position for the next few minutes, trying to even out your breathing a little, and you felt Haruchiyo's hand on your buttock. You flinched under his touch and his fingers stroked your skin. 

“You did good, Y/n.” He said and you closed your eyes, taking in more air into your lungs. “The account has been settled.” 

Very slowly, you moved to sit up and looked at him with tear-stained eyes. He stroked your cheek very tenderly and leaned in to kiss you. 

You returned his affectionate gesture and smiled broadly, proud of yourself. 

“I'm glad it's not just my mouth that's good for something.” You joked and the man shook his head in amusement. 

“You can use your dick too.” He joked back and his eyes landed on the neatly loaded condom still on his member. “I have to get myself clean.” 

“Do you want to take a shower?” You asked, struggling to get up from the sofa and Sanzu took your arm to steady you. 

“I guess I didn't fuck you that hard, did I?” He asked, seeing how badly your legs were shaking. 

“We'll see in a while…” You laughed and kissed his cheek. “But no one has ever fucked me like you, Haru.” 

“Who were you giving ass to?” He became interested, walking with you to the bathroom on the ground floor, where you had a shower. 

“Oh, you certainly won't remember him. That was back in high school.” 

“We went to the same high school, if my memory serves me right.” Sanzu pondered as he let go of you to get rid of the used condom. 

“Yes… That's true.” You carefully stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. “Do you know Saburo Kanzaki?” 

"Nope." The pink-haired man slipped under the stream of water and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hmm. He was one of the best students in mathematics..." 

“I may remember something, but I don't recognize the guy. Did you do it with him?” 

“He tutored me in algebra.” You said as you washed Sanzu’s body, who a moment later replied in kind, soaping your rear end tenderly. “Somehow it happened that we were alone in the classroom... He was a good looking one... Outside was very warm and it happened....” 

Sanzu laughed as if amused, but you could clearly see the jealousy in his eyes. He didn't comment on your confession, and to calm his thoughts at least a little, you grabbed his face and kissed him tenderly on the lips. 

“No one else has the right to my body except you, Haruchiyo.” You said calmly, looking deeply into his bright eyes. 

“You better not forget that, honey.” He responded by turning off the water and nuzzling your neck. “You better not forget about it.” 

As you toweled off and went back to the living room to get your clothes, out of the corner of your eye you saw your phone screen flash for a second before going back to black. 

You approached the device and found that you had received the long-awaited message from your uncle. 

“What is it?” Haruchiyo asked as he put on his t-shirt. 

“I can see Yuuta.” You replied with a wide smile on your face, feeling your heart swell with happiness. “Tomorrow, at Tsuyoshi's place. They picked him up from the orphanage today.” 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Odd Eyes ~I.N | Jeongin

Pairing: Demon!Jeongin x PalaceWorker!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy AU, Period setting, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff if you squint? Warnings: Violence, abuse of power, mentions of outdated ideas around intimacy, questionable moral choices, kissing Word Count: ~5k | AO3 Summary: Being cursed was not something you ever planned for your life–clearly–but now that you were, your demon will help you make the most of it.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author's Note: this idea has been haunting (heh) me for a while, and i was finally able to capture it on paper. as we're still in October, i feel like a demon still fits within the Halloween theme of the month :D

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“You?! Again?!”

You winced at the Head Court Lady’s angry tone, your eyes drifting from her face towards the heap of clothes now on the floor, trying your best to not show the annoyance you felt creeping into you. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It was an accident…”

It was not an accident, but it was easier to tell her that than to even try to explain what had happened.

“It’s the third ‘accident’ of yours this week! You’ll have to wash those again, you’re not leaving this place until you do”, with that, she turned around and left.

The incessant snickering coming from your side made you snap your head in the sound’s direction, glaring at the man–or maybe it’d be more accurate to say the creature–that was mocking you now. “It’s not funny, Jeongin”, you moved, grabbing a basket, and proceeding to kneel by the heap of clothes and start depositing the pieces in it so you could take them to the laundry area.

“Oh, it’s so funny, my dear”, Jeongin held his belly as his laughter intensified, tears running down his face the longer he spent looking at you kneeling on the floor.

With a sigh, you decided to ignore him. Whenever you reacted to his pranks it always made everything worse, so you tried your best to focus on your task. These were a lot of clothes, clothes that you had just finished sorting and folding, all that work now down the drain because of him.

Jeongin was, to put it simply, your own personal demon.

He’d been haunting you for over a year now. He liked to prank you, to inconvenience you, and you could never stop it. If you said anything you surely would be hanged because they’d think you were crazy or they’d burn you at the stake because they’d think you were a witch–even if you were neither of those things–so you always took the blame for his antics.

No one else could see Jeongin either, not because you had any sort of special sight for spirits, but because that was how Jeongin liked it. ‘Only you get the great honour of seeing me, darling!’ He had told you with the widest smile on his face the first time you tried to rat him out to one of the Court Ladies, so you stopped trying since then.

How you came to be involved with Jeongin was quite the story… Not one of your proudest moments, you’d admit.

You’d always been bad at politics, the worst at keeping your thoughts concealed, your face always giving away too much, or your words of disapproval slipping past your lips before you could ever stop them–which was one of the worst traits to have when you worked at the palace. People here loved to fake their true nature, they loved to play a part, and you had such a hard time doing so yourself you stopped talking altogether after the incident.

It happened a long time ago, but you could still remember it as if it had happened yesterday.

The abusive governor, your friend hunched over on the floor as the man kicked and punched her, the heavy weight of the wooden plank in your hands as you quite literally broke it in half on his head, your friend’s wrist in your hand as you tugged her out of there, the screams of the governor’s wife when you were already too far away for her to see the culprit, ‘whoever did this, I curse you! I curse you for all eternity!’

The governor’s wife’s words haunted you when you went to sleep that night, and, as you held your friend tightly in your arms while she slept, those incessant screams changed shape, turning instead into a wicked laugh. When you had woken up the next morning, your friend was gone for the day already, but in her place you found a boy, a man, with carob hair, a devilish smile on his lips, and his two toned eyes–one blue like the sky above your heads and the other red like raspberries–staring at you.

You had screamed, because of course you had–there was a random-ass man on your yo as you woke up, so obviously you screamed, scrambling as far away from him as possible. ‘So loud for this time of day! Tone it down!’ was all he had said as he rolled around on the bedding. After running away from your sleeping quarters you started to question people around the palace about the man with the odd eyes–as inconspicuously as you could, of course. People had looked at you like you were crazy, telling you such eyes didn’t exist in this world.

You had let them gaslight you into believing that, into believing that the man with the wicked smile and two-toned eyes had probably just been a product of your imagination, of your post-sleep, post-trauma hazy mind, even when it had felt so real… It wasn’t until later in the day, when you were cleaning boxes upon boxes of royal cutlery that you saw him again, standing by one of the piles of boxes as he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

It was almost as if the situation had played in slow motion, his hand moving to the tallest box he could reach, his eyes locked with yours, as he pushed the box with as much force as he could for the thing to fall, the delicate utensils clattering loudly on the floor. ‘What are you doing?!’ you remember asking him, to which he simply smirked and shrugged. The noise had attracted people’s attention, so when one of the Court Ladies rushed into the room and saw the mess she had shouted at you, to which you desperately pointed towards the man by the boxes and laid the blame on him.

The Court Lady hadn’t believed you, of course, alleging there was no one there, and urging you to go to the infirmary as you were clearly sick and hallucinating. But you weren’t, he was standing right there. That was your first real encounter with Jeongin, the one that, unbeknownst to you, gave you a taste of what your life would become moving forward.

“Come on, darling. It’s no fun if you don’t fight back!” Jeongin was pouting, crouching next to where you were kneeling, still shoving clothes into the basket.

You could feel your whole body tremble, feeling utterly helpless, his constant pranks had worn you down more than you would’ve liked to admit, that, coupled with the sheer amount of work you had around the palace these days with the upcoming royal wedding had a knot building in your throat. “I don’t have time for this, Jeongin”, you weakly murmured.

“Aw, come on. I haven’t even–”

“Stop it!” Your voice came out louder than you intended, but worst of all, you couldn’t help the sob that came right after, tears of frustration starting to pool in your eyes as you looked into his two-toned eyes. “Do you have any idea how much work I have now because of your stupid prank? I haven’t slept more than three hours each night for the past few months, Jeongin!”

It was odd, really. Jeongin was here to haunt you, to inconvenience you, but throughout the past year you had somewhat become used to his presence around you, so much so that you had formed a rapport of sorts. ‘You’re the first person I’ve haunted that has actually talked to me, like, talk talk, not just scream in fear. You must be insane’, Jeongin had told you once while you two were conversing under the moonlight. You remember that day had been particularly taxing, someone had attempted to poison the king–just as he deserved, honestly…–and the entire palace was distraught, or pretending to be distraught, at least. So, at night, you had gone to the most secluded area you could find in the woods, just sitting there, looking at the moon’s reflection on the stream. And somehow, in the quiet of the night, you and Jeongin simply started talking, almost like acquaintances.

That day–before the entire assasination attempt thing–Jeongin had thrown two rows of books off of the library’s shelves while you cleaned the space, snickering and cackling as you had to pick them all back up again, a fact you couldn’t stop but remember as you sat there talking with him. ‘You’re here all the time, and you’re too annoying to ignore’, you had told him back then, because it was the truth. You talked with him because he talked to you, and in a way, when he wasn’t pulling one of his stunts, it almost felt as if he was keeping you company.

Tears spilled freely from your eyes, quiet sobs escaping you here and there as you stared at Jeongin. He stared back at you, completely stone-faced now, the devilish smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes now completely gone. This was the most serious you had ever seen him since you met him, but you were too hurt to think about it too much. “Just leave me alone, Jeongin. Even if just for tonight, please…”

Jeongin’s eyes jumped from one of yours to the other a few times, only to finally give you a minute nod. His body turned to smoke shortly after, suddenly disappearing from the room, and you couldn’t do anything other than cry and stare at the heaps and heaps of clothes. It was too much work, just too much for yourself alone, and you were having a full-on meltdown about it.

You weren’t sure how long you spent crying in that room, your chest burning with exertion and the lump in your throat growing heavier and heavier the longer you sat there. All you knew was that you woke up the next day curled up into a ball on the floor and that the heaps of clothes–all of them–were neatly folded on the shelf, smelling clean and fresh. Wow, you must’ve worked a lot last night, you couldn’t even remember doing all this. Stretching your limbs, you stood up, finally leaving the room to go freshen up and start your duties for the day.

The royal wedding certainly had everyone preoccupied around the palace, Crown Prince Seungmin was getting married to a princess from a faraway land, and everyone within the lowest ranks in the palace was speculating that someone would try to stop the wedding, some said through the assasination of either the Crown Prince or his betrothed, some said that the Crown Prince himself would run away… All this was pure palace gossip you had no interest in indulging in, as being imprisoned for treacherous tendencies was certainly not within your life-long plans.

Three days had passed since you last saw Jeongin, which oddly worried you. The longest you’d spent without seeing him was a day at most, so, to you, his sudden absence was strange. In a way, it was for the best, you had been able to carry out your tasks with ease, without any otherworldly delays, but after having experienced Jeongin’s antics for so long, the sudden absence of them made you realise how… Boring working at the palace was. Had it been like this before he started to haunt you? Maybe it had been, you had just been too focused on keeping your job at the time to notice.

It was only the next day that you saw Jeongin again, standing by a stack of wooden cups in the kitchen. He locked eyes with you, his serious expression contorting again as that familiar mischievous smile crept on his lips. Before you could stop it, he had already knocked over the stack of cups, the things clunking against each other as they rolled on the table–some of them even falling on the floor. Thankfully, you were alone, and the noise caused by the cups falling wasn’t that loud, so you could probably manage this without anyone bursting into the kitchen and calling you crazy or lazy or clumsy.

You simply sighed in response, shaking your head as you started to pick up the cups from the floor. “Was this really necessary?”

“I’m here to haunt you, remember?” Jeongin took one of the cups, walking over to pick up a jug of water and serving himself a glass. “You’re still cursed, my dear”.

“Lucky me…” You mumbled, stacking the cups again where they belonged. “Is there no way to get rid of this curse?”

You had asked Jeongin about it many times before, and each time he had given you the same answer ‘why would I tell you how to get rid of the curse?’ which, honestly, you could understand why he wouldn’t tell you about it. You weren’t sure what it was, but he was definitely getting something out of haunting you, that much was obvious to you, otherwise why would he keep this up for a year?

However, right now, when you asked him, his expression suddenly got serious. Again, there was that stone-faced Jeongin you had only seen a few days ago. He inhaled deeply, only to exhale right after. “The governor’s wife that cursed you… She’s been delving in dark magic” Jeongin’s words surprised you, for someone so deeply involved in the government to be practising witchcraft… If anyone found out, their titles would be revoked and she would definitely be burnt at the stake. “When she said those words, she cursed you for real, clearly. Which is why I’m here. And honestly, you’re kind of lucky that I was the one to answer her call…”

Jeongin moved, standing right in front of you, staring down at you with those mismatched eyes of his, staring so intensely you started to feel weak in the knees. “To break the demon curse… You would have to either destroy the caster’s altar, or…”

Jeongin trailed off, his eyes darting all around your face, as if he was debating whether to tell you or not. You wanted to know, needed to know, so you pressed him further. “Or…?”

“Or…” His eyes snapped back up to yours, staring deeply into yours once again. “You can get the demon to stop it”.

“So you could–!”

“But!” Jeongin interrupted you, bringing a finger up to signal you to stop talking. “It’s not easy, nor cheap to get demons to stop curses. You’d have to pay a hefty price”.

With a sigh, you returned to your cleaning duties, moving past Jeongin to the basin in the kitchen, so you could start washing the plates there. “Who knows where that woman’s altar would be… Plus, I don’t have any money, and somehow I don’t think you’d give me a discount”.

Jeongin was silent for a while, but you knew he was still there, you’d become used to his presence, so you could tell when he was or wasn’t around you. Suddenly, you felt warmth at your back, which made you tense and still your movements, your hands still submerged in the basin. Jeongin’s hands appeared in your field of vision, gripping the basin’s rim, caging you right there, between his body and the goddamned basin. There was space between your bodies still, he kept his distance enough for you to feel him there but not to touch you, and somehow, deep, deep within you, an intrusive thought was forming, a dangerous, dangerous thought, worming itself into your brain and making it hard for you to stay in place.

“Money’s of no use to demons, darling. The price for getting a demon to release the curse that’s been placed on you will differ from demon to demon, to be honest…” Jeongin’s tone was low, his breath fanned your neck, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, but considering how close you were the chances were slim. If he did notice, he didn’t say anything. “As for me, if you want me to, I’ll consider what that price might be, my dear”.

The sudden lack of his warmth once he retreated from your frame made your head spin, that is, until he talked again. “But until then, remember. You are cursed”, the water from the basin splashed upwards, soaking you from head to toe as a gasp left your mouth. You whipped your face back to stare daggers at him, but all you saw was his snickering form for a few seconds, until he disappeared under wisps of smoke.

You’d truly gone and done it this time. You weren’t sure how you allowed yourself to get in this situation again, but here you were, looking at your few belongings going down the river. It was that same governor again, the one whose wife had cursed you. You had no proof, but you knew it was the truth.

The day before, you had had another encounter with him. Once again, he was mistreating one of your friends, screaming at her and pushing her around for things you didn’t care about. All you cared about was just how unfair the entire thing was, so you got involved, getting between the man and your friend, even pushing him back and calling him an ‘abusive monster’. You should’ve known he would do something like this, if the look of disgust on his face and his words of ‘how dare you speak to me like that? Looks like someone must be punished, too’ were anything to go by.

You had taken your friend’s hand in yours and ran away from there as quickly as you could, but he had seen you, so now, you were paying the price. You couldn’t help but sob, the tears running freely down your cheeks as you stood there on the bridge. Oh, how you hated him… You hated that man more than you hated the king, which was saying something. But you were powerless, there was nothing you could do against someone like him, you were but a palace maid, after all. A palace maid with no money, no connections, no power…

Even in your emotionally broken state, you still felt Jeongin’s presence when he appeared next to you. You could feel his gaze burning as he stared at you, but you couldn’t look back at him, all you did was continue to cry as the last piece of your belongings got lost in the distance. Shutting your eyes tightly, you brought your hands to your face, sobbing and hiding from him and his searing gaze.

“I’ve thought about it”, Jeongin said abruptly. With the tears that clouded your vision, you could barely see his form when you opened your eyes and looked at him. “About the price to stop your curse. I know what I want in exchange”.

You hiccuped, unsure of why he was talking about this now of all times. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it, my dear. Everything”, Jeongin stepped into your space, and, to your utter bewilderment, he cupped your cheeks, his eyes intently scanning the features of your face.

It was odd for Jeongin to touch you. He hardly ever got this close to you, you could count the encounters with one hand–the first day when you woke up with him cuddled up in your arms, one night when you sat down by the Queen’s pond under the moonlight and he slung his arm over your shoulder in a friendly–or almost friendly–gesture, the other day when he almost, almost pressed his chest to your back… Had you always remembered these things in detail? Maybe you had… Your hands trembled slightly under his heavy gaze, loaded with so many emotions your teary eyes and racing mind could not even decipher any of them.

“Jeongin…?” Your voice was barely a whisper, the surprise of having his hands on you effectively stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“I don’t like it when you cry”, he was dead serious, his fox-like eyes scrutinising every single feature on your face.

Your lower lip quivered slightly, tears threatening to fall again under his disapproving tone. “I can’t help it, Jeongin…”

“No, you don’t understand”, his hands tightened their hold on your cheeks, essentially forcing you to pout slightly. “I don’t like it when you cry. I can’t stand it”.

Confusion fell on your features, only for a moment, the expression replaced with that of shock as you suddenly felt Jeongin’s lips on yours, pressing a soft, brief, and almost shy kiss to your lips, making your heart do involuntary flips in your chest with the action. When Jeongin pulled back from your lips, his eyes were still dead serious, yet you couldn’t help but notice the slight pink tint on his cheeks, and the feel of his thumbs softly stroking your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be crying, you’re too pretty to cry”.

You blinked slightly, the unshed tears that had pooled in the corners of your eyes falling with the motions, even when you suddenly didn’t feel like crying anymore. “So you… You think I’m ugly when I cry?”

“A bit, but I like you regardless”, he sounded so sure when he said it, and your jaw could’ve dropped to the floor right then and there.

“Jeongin you… You’re supposed to be haunting me. You’re supposed to be my curse. What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think what I’ve been doing this past year is what being cursed is truly like?” His thumbs wouldn’t stop moving, each stroke making you shiver, making your mind wander into those dangerous territories deep within you that you dared not acknowledge. “My dear, I’m an inconvenience at most. When I first met you, I knew I couldn’t curse you curse you. I had to, because that’s what demons do when summoned, but I couldn’t fully do it, you were too good of a soul for that. If I had, you most likely wouldn’t be alive right now”.

“…Thanks?” You couldn’t help but blink repeatedly, shocked at this sudden piece of information. Your brain was racing, looking back into the past year at incredible speeds as you dissected every single encounter with Jeongin–the ones you could vividly remember anyway. He appeared next to you every single day without fail, he’d be a nuance, he’d prank you, he’d tease you, he’d keep you company, he’d walk next to you at night chasing away any person you didn’t know, he’d talk you out of speaking out of line with officials, and he’d–oh… Oh.

“The governor…” Jeongin’s hands finally moved away from your face, settling on your shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “It’s about time he gets a taste of his own medicine”.

“I can’t do–”

“But I can”, a mischievous smile crept onto Jeongin’s lips. “I’ll do anything so you don’t cry anymore. I’ll ruin him, if that’s what you want. But you’d need to pay the price for me to stop your curse. If I do anything with the curse still in place, it could hurt you”.

“What’s your…” You gulped, your eyes jumping from his red one to his blue one a few times. “What’s your price?”

“Your heart”, his hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, gently squeezing the flesh there, the mischievous smile he had on his lips now turning to a sincere one. “Not literally, of course. But I want you for me, I want your affections. I think that’s a fair price to pay, considering you have already gotten mine, whether you planned it–wanted it–or not”.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for his arms, not to pull him away but just to get a hold of something–anything–sturdy to keep you up, since you suddenly felt light-headed. Was he… Was Jeongin confessing to you? Jeongin the demon? How could you have possibly endeared a demon enough for him to even consider breaking your curse? It was crazy, ludicrous, absurd… But the craziest, most ludicrous, most absurd part, was that–as you stared into his fox-like, two-toned eyes–you realised Jeongin had endeared you, too. He had all this time, even when he annoyed you sometimes, you liked his presence near you, close to you, more so than you ever did any other human.

Before you could even register what you were doing, your hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him to you. His eyes went wide in surprise at the sudden movement, you saw it for only a second, though, as your eyes closed when your lips connected to his immediately after. A surprised yelp left Jeongin, his body tensing up and unmoving at the contact. His lack of response started to worry you, it made you think you had made a mistake, that you had misinterpreted his actions, but right as you were about to pull away from him, you felt his hand on the back of your head, tilting you ever so slightly to deepen the kiss as his lips started to move against yours.

His free hand found your waist, pulling you flush to him as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched in your throat at the contact, your lips parting slightly in surprise. Jeongin took advantage of the opening, sneaking his tongue in your mouth to shyly brush against yours. You had kissed people before, a handful of them, but never had anyone gotten their tongue inside your mouth. You’d only ever read about it in the adult novels you’d shamefully indulge in in the confines of your sleeping quarters, the novels that were filled to the brim with sinful words and fantasies that hardly ever reflected your cruel reality.

Your tongue pushed back against Jeongin’s firmly, eagerly, finding a rhythm as you continued to kiss. Your hands moved from where they held onto his shirt so your arms could cross around his neck and pull him closer to you as his arms wrapped around your waist. It was so much, it felt like so much, so much of Jeongin, and you felt fire burning in the pit of your stomach, you felt yourself craving him and his touch.

When your lips separated, you didn’t pull away, nor did Jeongin. You held onto each other, your faces still close to each other as your chests heaved and you panted lightly, looking into each other’s eyes, your gaze getting lost in those two-toned eyes of his that had plagued your mind since the first time you saw them.

“Jeongin…” Your voice was barely a whisper, your arms still holding onto him tightly.

“Hmm?” His arms tightened even more around your waist, as if he was trying to pull you even closer to him, as if he was trying to prevent you from leaving his hold.

“Is this part of the curse? The way that I’m feeling right now, are you doing this with your magic?”

Jeongin chuckled softly, smirking. “Who do you take me for? I don’t do shortcuts, my dear. At least not with this, there’s no fun in that. Besides, you think I would’ve asked for your heart if I could’ve influenced it like this with my magic?”

“I suppose not…” You had the overwhelming urge to kiss him, so you did, pressing a soft peck against his lips only to pull back right after. “But you are a demon, after all…”

“That I am”, Jeongin’s arms released their hold on you, only to let his hands find purchase on your waist, holding you tightly. “But I am your demon, after all”.

You looked deeply into his eyes in silence for a moment. This was crazy. It was nuts. But you realised then that regardless of your wish to make the governor pay, you were willing to give your heart to Jeongin, even if he gave you nothing in return. So you told him this, how you wanted for him to continue being your demon, as long as he wouldn’t make you work extra with his stupid pranks.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Jeongin chuckled, moving his hands to rest on the small of your back, tracing shapes there, having you shiver under his touch on those previously unexplored areas of your body. Sure, you had let people touch you, but not this… Creatively. People, men, usually had one goal in mind, there were only four places for them to touch and grope to reach that goal, rear, core, and breasts, and it wasn’t like they were particularly good at touching those.

As you let Jeongin hold onto you, you figured a demon had a broader imagination when it came to touching someone intimately. You’d lie if you said you weren’t trembling with excitement at the thought, realising then you would really let this demon do anything to you, anything to feed this fire burning bright inside of you. And possibly his, too.

“Direct your need to annoy people somewhere else, then”, your face came close to his once again, your mouth coming shy of his, not pressing a kiss yet, only for your lips to brush against his with every word you said. “Ruin him, Jeongin. Ruin the governor. Make him suffer for me… You already have my heart, you always had”.

Jeongin leaned in, connecting his lips to yours and sneaking his tongue inside your mouth in a heated kiss, groaning into your mouth. His hands greedily roamed the planes of your back, only to finally settle one on your nape and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him, eliciting the most embarrassing sounds to spill from your mouth.

“I knew you were going to be fun, my dear”, Jeongin whispered against your mouth, pressing another peck to your lips. “I’ll give you anything you want. We’re going to have so much fun”.

“I can’t wait”, was all you could reply with a giggle as you reconnected your lips to his.

You had always been a moralistic person, a person that wanted justice to be made, even when you were considered nothing by those above you. But now, with Jeongin, you felt like you could do anything, like you could bring justice to this world. All as you enjoyed his company, his touch, and his affections. And you truly, truly could not wait.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2022-2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated :)

[sirenhub]

🌊⌇ WRITING RULES .°

i only write for fem! readers, i know that can be inconvenient for some but i am a cis fem and i, personally, don’t feel comfortable in portraying male or trans readers. i feel like that is something i cant relate to and with that i fear that i might misunderstand the struggles and portray the reader incorrectly. i hope that can be understood! :(

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truthfully i don’t care if minors read my works, there will always be a way for someone under 18 to read content like this. i am not going to fight an losing battle. just be aware of what content you will be consuming. do not send me asks or messages if you’re underage, you can read my content but i draw the line with direct contact with me. i am an adult and its just icky for me, please respect that!

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[oliversrarebooks]

HI! I'm the prev chemical imbalance anon!

SO HERE'S WHAT I WAS THINKING WHILE READING.

These alien organisms (honestly I can only imagine them like octopuses chilling on the hosts's head), do they grow with their host? If not is there a certain age where they get their own host and it's like, this whole special coming of age event?

What I'm imagining is that the child alien shares the same host with one of their parents (or they alternate between them), but once they are old enough they go to Earth with their parents on a space ship to pick a host like a puppy

"Ok honey! Which one do you want? That male 6'2" tall, muscular specimen? Very well! *sniff*, they grow so fast"

Or maybe there are like shelters full of humans where you go and pick one? That means there must be at least one whole bussiness that occupies with human dealing.

Or maybe only rich aliens can afford the luxury of going to earth and picking out their host, and the rest have to go to the pound.

Also do the aliens live more than humans or not as much? If the first one's the case, then is it by a lot? Or can an alien have one host their whole life if they are lucky.

If not and an alien lives like idk 500 years, then do they see hosts as just tools, or do they love them dearly as pets. (ik in the fic it feels like the latter. But if it is pet like love is it more like... Uh... How do i describe it, the same love you feel for a hamster or goldfish, or a dog or cat?).

How "damaged" does a host have to get to not be a host anymore? Like, do aliens hold on to their hosts until their dying breath or ditch them the moment they find out their host has smth inconvenient like diabetes or lactose intolarence. Is there like... An euthanasia procedure for hosts? Hmmm... fucked up....

And my very last question. How long can aliens last without their host. Can they survive without them, or will they be in serious danger if they don't have a host. Or is a host just, a way to get around?

These are really good thoughts / questions!

Part of my difficulty with the worldbuilding in Passengers is that it probably doesn't logically make sense to have this whole powerful alien species dependent on an outside species for their lives. I can't decide whether or not I want it to be a thing where they randomly abduct humans, or a thing where they effectively take over the Earth and treat it as their convenient human farm.

I definitely have this idea about an alien picking a human from a showroom that I'd like to get out there... I'm thinking that it might have originally started with random abductions, but then they liked humanity so much they conquered the Earth, probably with psychic weapons we had no way of fighting.

Once conquered, they treat humanity like it's in a zoo. They don't fully disrupt every day life, but provide supplies to humans for free and crack down hard on any violence. They like viewing humanity in its "natural state" as entertainment but also squash anything that threatens their steady supply of people.

I think the aliens can survive without hosts, but their natural mobility involves flying and grasping things telekinetically and it's slow and draining compared to controlling a human to do it. The aliens without hosts mostly use mechanical tech. Not all aliens have hosts, as it's a bit of a privilege. They also just enjoy keeping humans as hosts in much the same way humans enjoy having pets.

I think they regard humans as something between a beloved pet and a car. Many aliens just love doting on their pets, dressing them up, giving them treats, and playing with them (psychically mostly). But their hosts are also utilitarian to them.

I see the aliens as much longer lived than humans, so they probably do need multiple hosts in a lifetime. I think it would be seriously socially frowned on to give up a host because of some minor medical issue, especially since the aliens have advanced medical care. But I suppose there would have to be euthanasia for hosts that are too old... not something I'm going to write about though.

I guess this concept isn't really too different from my vampires and thralls, but I enjoy it anyway!

[calenhads]

everything under hearts for sabina please :3

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

first and foremost, sabina is incredibly intelligent, though it becomes clear very quickly that she's book smart beyond anything else. she also tends to be considerate most of the time, with a strong sense of justice to back her up.

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

sabina is a passionate person, and puts her whole heart into anything she cares about. often to the detriment of herself and those around her. the same can be said for her loyalty, which ties her to people and concepts in ways that she refuses to break. she is also reserved, and tries to keep her thoughts and emotions close to her chest even among those she trusts.

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

the biggest one if her vengeful streak a mile wide. in line with her loyalty to others, she will defend those she cares about bitterly and with a tendency towards violence. and, where she is not considerate (and even where she is) she tends to be callous and distant. her short-temper makes each of these traits worse, and she has a tendency to lash out at others for the most minor inconveniences.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

felix is the most important to her. she knows well enough that her answer should be lachlan, or her people, or any number of those who have stuck by her through it all. but she will always put her father first, and his opinion is the one she values the highest.

🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends?

family. always family. her biggest issue is that she will always prioritize her family over the friends that have chosen to love and trust her. when it comes down to it, she will always leave her friends to chase her family.

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

sabina speaks three languages: the common trade tongue, aretian, and little bits and pieces of kalina's mother tongue that does not have a name yet. she's not currently learning any more languages, but she does find linguistics fascinating.

💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

this one really depends. if you had asked a young sabina, before everything went to shit, she would have adamantly declared that she prefers being outside where she can be among the plants and all their names that she knows. now, though... she's been chased away from her home, and the nights or weeks in which she's able to take shelter in an abandoned home or someone's barn are some of the best. she's so very tired of the outside. she just wants to go home.

💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world?

this is also a tough one! she originally had magic when i first made her, but over time as i've refined my magic system, i really don't think she does. at best, her sword is enchanted and she has learned through the years how to best utilize its enchantment in her own way. otherwise, she's completely and utterly ordinary. she's not a seer, shapechanger, or enchanter herself.

💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background?

because she's from a fantasy world, this is a little harder to define, but she's aretian on cressida's side (mediterranean with heavy greek influences) and something else on kalina's side (russian influence with dips into poland). i still need to finish my damn worldbuilding.

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

all of the above babey! before the events of the book, she would have never hurt anyone if she could help it. at this point in time, her family murdered and her home occupied by strangers, she is familiar with violence. her first real kill is her brother, nicodemus, in the end. and in chasing after her traitorous brother and abandoning the attack launched to reclaim the capital, she betrayed her closest friends and advisors, and utterly broke lachlan's heart. even felix is betrayed by this, but he is not surprised, and he loves her anyway.

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 3: Naughty

Raian glanced at the sleeping form next to him, Ohma’s chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He was so completely oblivious to the world around him that it could almost be considered overconfidence. 

The fact that anyone would be so relaxed as to sleep in his presence made Raian’s hands itch, as if he hadn’t caused enough trouble already. After Ohma’s room was destroyed by a particularly wild training session in which the crazy Kure decided to hurl him headfirst through the drywall, Grandfather Erioh had punished them by forcing Raian to let Ohma sleep in his room. 

And Ohma of course, though not particularly happy about it, did not give much of a shit. Raian loved riling up types like him, to see how far he could push him before he snapped, yet Ohma was much more resilient than any other man he’s seen. Living on the Inside has taught him enough patience to last a lifetime, so it was only a *minor* inconvenience to deal with someone like Raian.

Raian usually slept with the curtains open. He liked keeping the windows open at night and wasn’t someone who cared about privacy anyways. If someone was stupid enough to attack him in his sleep then let them. It would just be like a lamb walking into the mouth of a lion, and Raian was not one to reject any extra violence that so willingly placed itself into his grasp. 

His room was flooded with a dull, silver light, the moon was partially obscured by thick clouds tonight. He could smell rain in the air. 

A wide beam almost lined up perfectly with Ohma’s sprawled form, highlighting the edges of his face and captivating the attention of his roommate. 

Damn bastard doesn’t even know how pretty he is, Raian thought snarkily. Guys like Ohma normally annoyed him to no end, but he was different. It was almost endearing how clueless he was to his own charms. Almost. 

Wait. Since when did he start thinking Ohma was handsome? He’s been nothing but a pain in his ass since he showed up. Raian could feel the growing frustration well up in his chest, and he was almost tempted to throw the sleeping figure out of his room. 

He hated the feeling of confusion that began to flood over his body. Being confused was for the weak and for the prey that he devoured without a second thought. He didn’t think about petty girl shit like that. 

But it was hard for him not to look, with the way his dark lashes hung over his eyes or how his wild hair framed his cheekbones. 

Against his own mind, Raian had scooted closer to him to catch a better glimpse, staring almost creepily at Ohma’s face in the dark. 

Tch! There’s nothing special about this asshole! Raian scoffed to himself. He forced himself to roll over to the other side, facing the wall and yanking the blanket over himself almost aggressively. 

Dumb fucker’s getting in my head. 

But he still couldn’t go to sleep, even with his eyes screwed shut he saw him in his mind clear as day. 

Unfortunately for Raian, his subconscious knew better and had already begun trying to make Ohma his a while ago.

He had bought that shitty cologne from that big fragrance superstore that made his nose burn, glaring so hard at the cashier who had checked him out it was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames right then and there. 

He had snatched the bag away, leaving the poor girl shaking and stomped the entire way home in a foul mood. The cologne he had offhandedly chosen (it had taken him almost thirty minutes, never again) had been some sharp, oaky forest scent that he didn’t really care for but could still withstand without wanting to drown himself in the bathtub. (It totally wasn’t because Ohma spent a large portion of his time in the forest or anything.)

It was just so that old man Erioh would stop getting on his ass after missions for smelling like shit, Raian had told himself. 

And he had started running his hand through his hair in the morning (because Raian had never heard of a comb before), and bought new, fancier clothes. Not that he didn’t already have a revolving door of new clothes from how often he ripped them up, but these were slightly nicer. Just slightly. 

Luckily the only ones who seemed to notice were Hollis and Reiichi as perceptive as they were, and they were both unwilling to poke the hornet’s nest by bringing it up to him. 

But thinking was never Raian’s strong suit, anyways. Things tend to get blown up and destroyed when he thought too hard. 

Snorting, Raian reached over his shoulder and flicked his face, watching as Ohma grunted and scrunched up his nose, but still remained fast asleep. He did it harder this time, only for his hand to be batted away like a fly.

Growling, the troublemaker almost considered punching him in the face if that bastard kept ignoring him, but as his eyes slid down Ohma’s exposed torso he had a better idea.

Raian reared back his arm, aimed, and slammed his open palm down right into Ohma’s hard stomach with an audible SMACK that was sure to wake up half the manor.

It did the trick, all right.

Neither Ohma nor Raian slept a wink that night, nor did the entire Kure Village who were kept awake by their wild brawling.

The house shook with the force of their fight, and all through the night one could hear Raian’s wild howling and the sound of thudding blows. 

Though some of the groans emitted from their quarters sounded suspiciously like something else…

[sabineelectricheart]

Blunder at the Farmers' Market

Summary: The moms send Jamie and Baxter to the market for some groceries. She gets distracted and makes a rather humiliating mistake.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 2200

Notes: I’m changing my mind on Baxter. I’m kind of looking forward for his DLC, though I got some spoilers and I didn’t like what I’ve heard. Oh, well...

It was a nice, Saturday morning. Just perfect for a stroll at the farmer’s market, which the moms made sure to send out their youngest daughter to run that errand for them.

Luckily for Jamie, who hates driving, one of their neighbours also had half a mind to go out for some grocery shopping just as she was leaving. Not Cove, though, who was out in Nevada helping out his mother, Baxter was the one in need of some restocking to his fridge. He told her that he was glad to drive her if she was so kind to point him on the right direction and tell him the better stands over there.

Instead of the usual “divide and conquer”, they preferred to walk together, tackling neighbouring vendors at the time, with one ordering them for both households, electing to run the tally when they get home, for convenience. The young man had a small cart in which they could ferry their purchases without too much effort, and, should they elect to pack them separately, they might not fit too comfortably on the inconveniently-sleek car of his.

Jamie shifted her weight between her feet, as she starts to grow tired from walking, while she waits for the honey seller to finish packing up the jars she ordered. She twirled a pen on her fingers, she used it to mark down the price and volume of each purchase, making sure she both does not forget anything nor ends up short when settling with her neighbour.

After a few minutes, the middle-aged woman hands her the paper bag with a commercial smile.

“Will you and your husband be needing anything else?” The attendant asks, helpfully.

Husband. The word stops her heart and her movements. That was one big assumption to make about an admittedly-precocious nineteen-year-old and her twenty-one-year-old companion, but one not entirely unwelcome or unwarranted.

They had been involved over his time at Sunset Bird, and it would be fair to say that the thought of Baxter adorning such a title, as her husband or even something more casual, such a boyfriend or a date, has been in her mind as of late. It has been a while since she figured out that she had a bit of a preference towards him, a very strong preference, though the words have never been spoken out loud until now. A shame neither of them were the one to do it.

It was certainly something she could get used to.

“This should be it, thank you.” The girl responded.

Gripping the pen in her hand tighter, with a smile she could not suppress even if she tried her hardest, she returns to writing down the last of the items she was supposed to be ordering for her neighbour, as he remains busy talking with another merchant. They are mostly done, and could probably sit down for an early lunch as soon as he was done haggling the price of eggplants with the old man running the stall.

A sense of boredom takes over her mind. She leans on the small cart, filled to the brim with bags and boxes, and begins to doodle on the tiny notebook on her hands.

Soon, she finds herself signing a name. Jamie Ward. It has a sound to it.

Her heart flutters and her whole chest blossoms with warmth as she writes her name followed by a surname that did not belong to her. She stares at the letters on her own cursive and finds it quite fetching.

How perfect his name looks with hers. Someday, would that really be her name?

Oh, well, this is not something she really ought to be concerned with as of right now. Eggplants should take precedence on her mind. That, however, is a most boring topic, so she turns the page on her notebook and starts doodling once again.

Some three minutes or so later, Baxter finishes his conversation with the vendor and walks back to where his neighbour waited for him.

“Hey. Sorry for taking so long.” He greeted, cheery.

“Don’t worry. I’m glad you get such low prices on everything. I get to keep the change, you know?” She smiled in return. It was then she realises he was still empty-handed. “Where are the eggplants?”

“Ah, I got 75% off them, but only if I took the ones they thought they wouldn’t be able to sell. They got to pick them up from the truck, so it’s going to take a few more minutes.” He explains, rather sheepish, embarrassing for having a lady wait for him on the sun. “Can I have a piece of paper, please? To write down the order.”

“Sure.” She turned a page on the notebook, ripped it off and handed it to him.

“Sorry again for taking so long. Would you like to go ahead to the car? I can give you the key.” He offers.

The girl shakes her head. “No, no, it’s no problem for me. I’m just going to stand here for a little while longer, people-watching and doodling. Don’t worry.”

“OK, then. I shouldn’t take too much longer.” He said and walked off, back to the stand.

With Baxter still preoccupied with his discount eggplants, she decides to have a look around the neighbouring stands. A few storefronts down, a couple of local New Age communes were selling their products. It is filled with jewellery, crystals, books and other odds and ends, as well as a few cookie recipes that lacked flour, milk, eggs and just about anything that she would consider necessary to define something as such.

Jamie smiled. That is the fun about the farmer’s market, you never know what you are going to find. With the odd list of items her neighbour asked for, it is no wonder that they had to come here, even if it was a good few ways out Sunset Bird. She chalked up to his privileged upbringing.

As the young woman walks around and checks the merchandise at the stands, the little cart pulled behind her, she ends up hanging around her paramour as he impatiently waits for his produce. His conversation with the vendor had long ended and, as she stands closer, his arm snakes around her shoulders.

He pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head. “Are you too tired, Jamie?”

The sound of his voice, the small smile on his face that he often wears when speaking to her, pulls her in like a moth to a flame. She lets her hand lay on the other side of his hip, enjoying the soft heat he radiates warming the tips of her fingers. She is unable to not get lost in his eyes when they stare at her so softly and lovingly.

How Jamie become so lucky to receive such devoted, gentle love, she will never know, but she would always accept it for as long as Baxter was willing to give it to her.

She smiled bashfully. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to some lunch.”

“It shouldn’t take much longer now. Where would you like to eat?”

“Ah, nothing too heavy nor too hot. The sun is making me dizzy.” She complained lightly.

He smirked at her. “You really should’ve taken Liz’s hat when she offered it to you.”

The young woman made a grimace. “It’s too big! I’d look ridiculous on it.”

“Well, have some water if you feel sick, alright?” He offered, slightly concerned about her health. “Did you see anything…?”

His words are cut off by the merchant that helped him before. “Mrs. Ward? Here you are.”

Her arm is barely touching his, but even through such little contact, she can feel him stiffen the moment both of them hear the name listed on the order.

The older man carried a paper bag with a note stapled on the flap, written on the notebook sheet she had given Baxter a few minutes prior. On it, on a bold blue ink, was her practice signature.

Jamie Ward

A moment of silence falls between them as they try to wrap their heads around the situation. Embarrassment fill both of them.

“Ah, yes.” He tears his attention away from her and reaches for the paper bag the vendor has handed him. “Thank you.”

The vendor looks at them concernedly, likely predicting another round of haggling from the cost-conscious young man. “Does everything look okay with your order?”

The question goes unanswered for quite a while and she swears that the only noise in the whole market is the erratic beating of her heart as she watches her date’s porcelain skin burn red and brighter than the shirt on her back, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He seems so shocked he cannot even find it in himself to try to cover his blushing cheeks like he normally would and her own cheeks are not any better.

Should Jamie just run away in embarrassment and hope he does not question her about it later? She would not be able to carry all the produce on the bus back to Sunset Bird, but she does not think her neighbour would just keep them, likely handing them over to her mothers. What if he is not okay with this? They have not discussed how it is going to be between them after the summer, lest of all something so big like marriage. What if he is not ready and she has seriously overstepped some boundaries? Well, overstep she absolutely did. The question now is by how much.

The longer Baxter stays silent, his ember eyes glued to the paper in his hands, the worse her anxieties grow.

Well, maybe Jamie should just take it lighter. It might be just her brain talking over her heart that is making her worried, all for naught. There is no doubt of his love and devotion in her heart or his own and, even though he is not saying anything at this moment, the beating heart in his chest is screaming in excitement, even if his face expressed clear surprise, not that she can really blame him. He had not excepted it and it can naturally send him through a whirlwind of emotions that are very hard to comprehend. She should just wait until he could express them to her privately and own up to her little mistake.

She is right that there is a whirlwind of emotion going through his heart, though not those that she expected. He has known for a long time that he wanted her to be his forever and that he would be quite happy to pursue whatever this is to its logical conclusions, whatever those may be. He is beyond grateful for the patience she has shown him until this point, with his flirty and flighty behaviour and skittish demeanour.

However, it does not mean that the idea was in any way pleasant to him. He appreciated being together, being “couple-y”, but he understands that this is not to last. He is selfish and he wants to take as much as he can get, but when Labour Day comes, he will leave California and forget all about these people, no matter how he feels about them.

If he was a good person, he would avoid them at all costs, behave like the ghost he hopes to be, but he is not good. He is bad, and so he pretends he means to stay, that he intends to be true to his feelings and his promises. Seeing Jamie believe in him makes it more real to him, it reminds him of what he is doing, and it hurts.

Even if it took him a while to open up, he feels that, ever since their dance at the country club so many years ago, his heart has always belonged to her, everything that was Baxter Ward was hers. Seeing his surname signed on her adorably round handwrit like it belonged to her only makes him think he has been foolish to think that he could just disappear from her life and leave nothing behind. If he wanted to have just a casual summer fling, he should really have picked someone else.

The air around them is almost uncomfortably hot, both of their blushes burning brightly on their skin. Jamie needed to break the tension before they both combust in a flame of awkwardness but, the moment she perks up to speak his name and ask him if he is alright, he clears his throat and finally answers the merchant.

“Yes, everything seems to be in order. Thank you.” The young man responds, an easy smile on his face.

His voice had that charming lilt as it normally had, even though his cheeks are still tinted a lovely shade of red and his lips are tugged into a usually unseen sincere smile. His free hand finds hers, long fingers slipping between the spaces of her own and squeezing tenderly.

“Come on, Mrs. Ward. Let’s grab some lunch.” He says, teasingly.

She rises to the occasion. “Lead the way, darling.”

Jamie and Baxter leave the market hand in hand.

*_*_*_*_*

Our Life Masterlist

[missywritesfor7]

🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 25: Believe ||

Going through her box of memories has brought a lot of forgotten parts of her past back to Luna’s mind. Times that she wishes she hadn’t unleashed. Just before Jungkook scared her half to death, she spent the better part of the hour fighting with those locked up feelings. She finally calmed down before he showed up and got her worked up again.

While rummaging through her seemingly never ending box of memories, she found an old purse she used to love. It was small and could barely hold more than a few cards and small change, but it was still her favorite accessory. It was nothing special by any means, just small and black with a long thin strap for her to wear it across her shoulders. She wore that purse through most of high school and half of college.

What she doesn’t seem to realize was there was a small note left inside that she doesn’t remember ever seeing before. It was folded up and stuffed in the purse as if it had been there for decades. It was from her ex. The one she nearly gave up her whole life for. The one who used her, lied to her, cheated on her, and gave her every reason to lose trust in every person she’d ever come across.

In the note her ex went on telling her about his many affairs during their relationship. He told her all of the lies he fed her that she never questioned. He told her about stealing money from her purse a few times. He even told her about the time he claimed to have been robbed right before her birthday which is why he didn’t get her a gift that year, when really he had spent the money on other women.

He wasn’t confessing in his note, no, he was bragging. He took pride in the fact that Luna trusted him and taunted her about it in this note. He called her a fool, then went on to call her a crazy bitch with her “weird ass evil eye” and had the nerve to say the affairs were her fault for being “crazy” and stupid.

Luna doesn’t know when he left her that note, but it was clear he must have put it there hoping she’d find it after he left her. Those old wounds she thought had healed were violently ripped back open when she read that note, and if Jungkook wasn’t sitting next to her right now looking sad and concerned with that large scratch across his face, she may have fully unleashed her anger on him. Especially after the way he scared her.

But the timing is still. Wrong.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” Luna asks slowly. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend,” Jungkook chuckles as if the concept is foreign to him. “Do you think I’d be here saying all of this if I didn’t want you to be my girlfriend?”

“No I guess not,” she says studying his demeanor. “But why? Why me? Is it because we’ve been spending so much time together that you find me convenient?”

“Convenient?” He scoffs offended. “You’ve been the most inconvenient pain in the ass since I’ve met you. There’s nothing convenient about you at all. I’ve lost many hours of sleep, taken beatings like I’ve never taken before all in the name of making sure nothing happens to you. I’ve pissed my dad off more since you’ve been around than I have my entire life. So believe me when I say this, LuLu, falling for you the way I have is far from convenient.”

Luna stares at him in shock by his words. It’s not that she doesn’t believe him. She’s seen enough of his memories to know that these words aren’t easy for him to say. However she doesn’t believe anything else. She doesn’t believe that history won’t repeat itself. She doesn’t believe that she can give herself to someone the way she had before. She doesn’t believe she can give Jungkook what he may really be looking for, what he needs. Whatever ‘what he needs’ means, she doesn’t believe that she’s it.

“Do I want you to be my boyfriend?” Luna whispers to herself, though Jungkook can still hear her.

“Well…yes,” Jungkook says with a hint of sarcasm. “If you word it that way, yes I suppose that’s exactly the same question I was asking.”

Luna takes a deep breath then sighs. “Tell me you’re serious. Tell me you won’t break me or use me. Tell me I won’t have anything to worry about. Tell me you won’t waste my time or lie to me.”

Jungkook looks her over, paying close attention to the fear in her eyes. He wishes he knew why she’s like this. He wishes he knew who hurt her to make her have little trust in anyone else.

He lightly strokes her cheekbone then lifts her chin to bring her eyes back to his. She’s beautiful to him and he can’t imagine how or why anyone would hurt her. He knows he’d do any and everything in his power to make sure she never feels pain again.

“I won’t tell you that,” he says brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “I’ll show you.”

He brings his lips to hers sealing his words with a soft kiss. She gives him a faint smile and goes in for another kiss, this time a bit stronger. The butterflies filling both of their stomachs escape through every breath which gets increasingly stronger. Their tongues tangle together giving Jungkook flashbacks of the first time they kissed. And the second time. And of course the time he finally felt the feeling of being inside of her. The flashbacks not only spur him to press his body harder into hers, but it does the same to her because she could see every single moment that just flashed through his head. Every moment that made her knees weak flashed through her mind erupting with great intensity through her body causing her to push harder into his chest until he’s flat on his back. His hands slide to her waist gripping her belt loops as if he’s about to saddle up on a horse.

“WHOS IN THERE?!!” Shouts a voice from the front door that scares Jungkook and Luna sober from their intoxicating moment of intimacy.

Jungkook quickly jumps to his feet and quietly instructs Luna to stay hidden in the closet. He quietly steps out and looks through the peephole of the door. Two men are standing at the door waiting for someone to respond to their knocks and shouts. They knock again shouting for whoever is inside to answer the door.

“I knew it was nothing,” one of the guys says. “She hasn’t been back here. Definitely either dead or in another country by now.”

“The neighbors swore they heard someone yell,” the other guy says.

“They’re probably going crazy from all of the rumors that the place is haunted.”

“Yeah maybe. Let’s go.”

The two walk off and Jungkook waits until he’s able to hear them get far enough down the hall. He rushes back to Luna in the closet and grabs her hand.

“We have to get out of here,” he says urgently.

“Who was it?” Luna asks quickly throwing things into her backpack.

“I don’t know, but you’re not safe here.”

“I still have to go to my parents house,” Luna pleads. “I can’t leave until I do.”

“LuLu-“

“Jungkookie,” she interrupts paralyzing him. “I can’t leave until I get everything I need. I don’t know when I’ll be back so I have to do this now.”

“LuLu,” he sighs defeated. He absolutely doesn’t want her staying here any longer, but he knows he can’t fight her. “If anything happens-“

“I know,�� she says having gotten used to his rules. “Just let me go through the house and that’ll be it.”

“Ok,” he resolves. “Get your backpack and I’ll carry you on my back. I’ll make sure we get there fast and unseen.”

“Don’t drop me,” she says nudging him to turn around.

“Never,” he says. “As long as you don’t let go.”

“Never,” she smiles jumping onto his back.

He grabs her legs and locks them at the ankles around his waist. His hands grip her thighs tightly then he makes his way to the door. When he’s sure no one is outside, he quickly walks out and rushes to the roof.

“Why are you taking the roofs?” She asks. “We’re not in Korealis.”

“What part of fast and unseen did you not understand?” He sasses speeding across the roofs of houses and buildings towards her parent’s house.

“I don’t think it takes all of this though,” she chuckles.

“Oh look, we’re here,” he says landing in front of the house. “What were you saying about a less efficient way to get here?”

“Shut up and come on,” Luna says jumping off of his back.

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles.

Luna slowly opens the front door with Jungkook at the ready behind her. The place is still a mess, but the blood and other more traumatic things have been cleaned or removed. Luna knows she can’t take her time so she begins going through things in the living room. That’s the biggest place she hasn’t combed through yet.

The books on the shelf come up with nothing. The dusty movies sitting under the tv come up with nothing. Even hidden behind the picture frames on the wall is nothing. Luna starts to get discouraged thinking what she’s already found is it, and if that’s the case, it’s not nearly enough information.

Defeated, Luna treks into the kitchen hoping to at least grab her favorite childhood mug to take back with her. There’s nothing special about it, but it was a glittery silver and she loved it. She never wanted to drink out of anything else, even after she was an adult living on her own. As she’s retrieving the mug, she sees her mom’s recipe book sitting in the cabinet. Her mom cooked a little, but not quite enough to make sense of the amount of recipes stuffed in there. But then Luna takes a closer look. What starts as a few recipes for various dishes turns to newspaper clippings and handwritten notes.

Luna sifts through the book finding notes about her birth mother Luna, and notes about Hyungwon. It becomes clear that her mom was doing everything she could to try finding the person responsible for her birth parents’ death. There’s newspaper articles mentioning one of the best talent agencies in the city, the one headed by Park Hyungwon. There were other articles mentioning various disappearances in the area. All suspicious, and apparently all her mom thought were linked to Hyungwon.

“She knew where he was,” Luna whispers to herself as she flips through the articles. “She knew this whole time.”

“She never said anything?” Jungkook asks looking at everything from over her shoulder.

“No. At least not that I can think of. This is fucking crazy.”

They don’t have the time to sift through the entire thing so Luna stuffs it in her backpack to go through later. From the kitchen she moves to her parent’s room. She quickly goes through every corner of the room picking up photos and salvaging some of her mom’s most precious jewelry. In one of the drawers in her mom’s dresser Luna finds a journal. She wasn’t aware that her mom even kept a journal. She flips the book open and the words on the first page she comes to brings her pause.

The medicine seems to be working. There hasn’t been another incident. Kai is a genius, though I’m certain he may be a vampire too. There’s no other explanation for why he knows so much. Luna thinks they’re vitamins and she hasn’t questioned it. I’m still not strong enough to tell her. I’m afraid she’ll be upset. I’m afraid she’ll hurt one of us again. Her emotions are strong and out of control and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Each day she becomes more and more like him and it’s terrifying. She is him. She could kill us.

“Incident?” Luna whispers under her breath. She can’t think of any incidents that would warrant her mom being afraid of her. She now knows why her mom was always adamant that she take her vitamins everyday though.

Luna flips back a few pages to see if there’s any specific mention of an incident. She wishes her mom would have dated her entries so she would have a better idea of what she may be talking about.

She wanted ice cream at the store. When I told her no she got upset. She began yelling until the glass on the freezers in the store all shattered. She wasn’t bothered by it at all. No one could explain it. No one knew it was her. The store manager apologized and let Luna have whichever ice cream she wanted saying sorry that this incident scared her. He doesn’t realize she was the reason for it. He doesn’t realize he likely saved my life by letting her have the ice cream.

“What the fuck?” Luna thinks back trying to remember that time. She doesn’t remember glass shattering or even getting a free ice cream at the store. She flips a few more pages in disbelief that this is about her. No way it could be.

She wanted to go swimming but we told her not today. We’re running out of excuses. She didn’t like that. The kitchen table collapsed. We decided to take her to spare any more damage. Even with sunscreen she got a terrible burn. If anything I hope this will deter her from wanting to go swimming again. If she gets another burn I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle treating her again. I love her. I hate him. He did this to her. To all of us. He killed them and I won’t rest until he’s gone. I will find Park Hyungwon and make him answer for what he’s done.

Luna recalls getting a sunburn. It was her first one and it was terribly painful. Her skin bubbled as if it were melting and she felt like she was going to die. The only thing that seemed to help the pain was the fact that she bit her lip so hard from the agony that it started to bleed. The pain in her lip suddenly overwhelmed the pain all over her body. And then there was no pain at all. Somehow that helped her fall asleep that night. She doesn’t remember the kitchen table collapsing but she remembers they got a new one suddenly.

“LuLu,” Jungkook says hating to tear her from what looks like a rough moment of realization for her. “You’ll have to go through it later. We really can’t stay here much longer.”

Luna looks up at Jungkook trying to mask the tears beginning to well in her eyes. “They were afraid of me.” Her voice trembles at the hard truth that the people she loved most in this world were absolutely terrified of her.

“I know they still loved you though,” Jungkook says unsure if his words are of any relief.

“I know,” she says through the knot in her throat. She stuffs the journal in her backpack and stands. “I think I have everything I need for now.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks wiping a rogue tear from her cheek.

Luna nods afraid if she opens her mouth again the flood gates would open. She steps around Jungkook to walk out the door but he reaches his arm out to stop her. He pulls her into his chest without a word and holds her there for a moment.

“Hold on,” he says struggling to find the strength to say anything else. He can feel her pain even if she claims she’s ok. He kisses the top of her head hoping she feels his sincerity.

Luna allows herself to sink into Jungkook’s body. His solid arms and warm chest are comforting in this moment of grief and sorrow. She wishes she could stay molded to him until the end of her days.

“I’ll get you home,” he says carrying her out the door.

He jumps to the roof and quickly and quietly gets Luna back to the portal. He doesn’t give her a choice, he grips her tight and transports back to Korealis. The car ride is quiet. Jungkook takes her back to his mother’s house and they both quietly walk to the bedroom.

As much as Luna knows she needs to sleep, she needs to read more of her mom’s journal. She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls the journal out of her backpack and begins at the very first page.

“Do you want to get some rest first?” Jungkook asks already knowing what her answer will be.

Luna shakes her head not looking up.

“At least come eat the dinner my mom made,” he says taking her hand and pulling her off the bed. “You can read while you eat.”

Luna follows him to the kitchen without protest. Her eyes are still glued to her mother’s words. She sits at the table reading while Jungkook prepares them both a plate. She doesn’t look up to see what he’s doing. She doesn’t look up to see the food he placed in front of her. She doesn’t look up to see where her hand is going as she blindly tries to feed herself. She doesn’t respond to Jungkook’s chuckle and sigh before he takes it upon himself to feed her while she continues reading. The world outside this journal barely exists.

Her mom never dated anything in the book. Luna can’t remember half of the things mentioned so it’s hard for her to know when these things took place. The first few entries are about Luna’s temper that seems to have been getting worse. Apparently her parents tried everything they could to help her manage her anger as a child. They began noticing things moving around whenever Luna was upset. It quickly evolved from moving things to breaking things. Her mom details a day when Luna had broken a wind chime they had hanging in the backyard. The chime flew so hard into her mom’s face that it left a bruise on her cheek. Thats when the fear began. That’s when they realized they were losing control of her. That’s when her mom was even more determined to find Hyungwon and make him pay for what he’s done.

“Jungkookie,” Luna says softly. She finally looks up to see him frozen staring back at her with kimchi hanging out of his mouth. “Why can’t I remember anything she mentions in here?”

“Well,” he says slurping the kimchi into his mouth. “The night you fell into your coma you didn’t remember killing the guy before you passed out. Maybe you’d remember things if you had better control of your power.”

“How can I control it better?”

“Practice. And controlling your emotions. I noticed the stronger your feelings are the stronger your power is. If you can control your emotions then you can control your power.”

“Can you teach me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he smiles puffing his chest out.

“You know what, never mind because you seem way too proud that I asked you.”

“Too late. Training starts tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to work me to death are you?”

“Of course not. But maybe close,” he chuckles.

“I would like to unenroll from this class.”

He stands up taking both of their plates and putting them in the sink. “Get some sleep, you have a long day of training to get through tomorrow.”

“No I said unenroll.”

“Too late LuLu, you’re stuck.” He pulls her from the chair and drags her to bed. “You have a lot to learn.”

“But I don’t want to,” she whines laying down on her pillow.

“Don’t be such a baby,” he laughs laying next to her and pulling her into his arms. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t think we have the same definitions of fun.”

“Sure we do, LuLu.”

“Luna.”

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

“I’m going to complain the whole time,” she teases.

“That’s fine, you’re still going to do it though,” he laughs.

The next morning Luna wakes up to the feeling of something wet on her chest. She’s laying on her back and blinks a few times until the ceiling above her is clear. She looks down and sees Jungkook’s head resting on her chest with a stream of drool trailing from his agape mouth down between her breasts.

“Ew!” She says hitting him.

Jungkook groans then grabs her tighter.

“You’re drooling on me, you big demon!” She hits him again.

“Good,” he mumbles sticking his tongue out and brushing it against her skin.

“Gross!”

She pushes him away and he looks up through his mess of hair covering half of his face. He laughs then gets close up in front of her face.

“How is that gross when your tongue has been in my mouth before?” He smirks.

That really smug shit eating smirk. The one that Luna can’t even fight because she knows the truth, and she loves the way he looks when he’s nothing but a mess of hair and one piercing red eye peering through them. She bites her lip trying to fight her smile, but he’s no fool. He brushes his black curl aside and plants his lips on hers. She doesn’t fight him for a second. He’s hypnotizing.

“Time for training,” he smiles. He’s taunting her with that smile and she knows it.

Luna fights a little not wanting to get out of bed once Jungkook revealed to her that it was 5 am. If she doesn’t have anything to do she would much prefer to sleep in until noon. But she does have something to do. Jungkook was dead serious about teaching her to control her power. So much so she’s almost certain he’s doing it more for himself than her.

He has an outfit of dark gray leggings and a black tank top picked out for her already that he says is perfect for the physical activity he’s about to put her through. She doesn’t even know why he has a brand new outfit ready for her in the closet of his mom’s house, but he says his mom got the wrong size but never got around to returning them.

He won’t tell her that’s a lie. He won’t tell her that he’s bought a few things here and there online the past week. He won’t tell her that he’d been sending all of the gifts to his mom’s house waiting for the right opportunity. He won’t tell her that he already has a closet full of gifts just for her.

He puts Luna in his car and begins driving her to their training destination. The sparring room in the palace.

It takes a small pep talk and a few assurances for Jungkook to convince Luna that she’d be ok going back there. He tells her that his father wouldn’t be up this early so she doesn’t have to worry. They get into the sparring room and Jungkook closes and locks the door.

“Why did you bring me here?” Luna asks. “You could have trained me anywhere.”

“This is the only place where you can blow my dad into the wall and not cause structural damage,” he says. “If you lose control I’ll at least know you won’t tear the entire place down.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“We can fix it,” he assures.

He starts by making her do a few stretches. She isn’t sure why he’s acting like she’s about to try out for the Olympics, but he maintains his intensity. After a few warm up exercises he moves on to having her do some weightlifting. She hasn’t worked out like this in all her life, not even back when she played softball. She’s quickly getting exhausted and struggling to keep up with his nonstop training.

“What does any of this have to do with me controlling my power?” She whines.

“Because you’re weak, and if you’re weak you won’t be able to control anything. Also, it’s clear your power is stronger than you are. You’ll keep knocking yourself out if you’re not strong enough.” He waves his hand to signal for her to do another set of squats but she doesn’t move.

“Give me like five minutes,” she says out of breath.

“Five seconds,” he says sternly. “Come on, one more set.”

Luna groans in defiance not moving. Jungkook takes her arm but she resists.

“Come on, LuLu, you can do 10 more squats.” He grabs her hips getting ready to guide her but she continues to fight back.

“No, Jungkook baby, I can barely stand right now. I can’t do any more,” she whines.

Her hands are pressed into his chest to get him to let her be done with the torture. He doesn’t move. He looks at her with his head tilted as if he isn’t sure he heard her right. The words slid through her lips so casually as if it were nothing, but to him it was everything. She’s never called him “baby” before, and now that she has he doesn’t know how to react. Nothing has ever sounded so beautiful to his ears.

“Ok then,” he says bending down. He wraps his arms around her thighs just below her ass, then hoists her in the air. “I’ll let you end your training here, Princess.”

“That’s more like it,” she says relieved.

He carries her over to the couch and lays her down but doesn’t let go. He’s leaning over her trying to fight everything in him to not devour her right here and now. Maybe just a little kiss. A little taste to hold him until he can get her to his room.

Just a little kiss.

Jungkook is a greedy man.

Luna is a greedy woman.

Their tongues begin to fight over who’s the greediest. Jungkook’s wandering hand sliding up her thigh is about to win that fight for him. He presses himself further into her chest that’s glistening with sweat. She can feel his heart pounding against her rapidly. He tastes so good to her.

“We use that couch,” Hoseok says, scaring them both.

“Morning,” Jungkook says pulling away from Luna in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget we all have keys to this room?”

“I wasn’t locking it because of you guys.”

“Right,” Hoseok sighs. “Well the person you were locking it for is down the hall so you may want to find another place to hide and do…whatever you two do.”

“I thought he’d still be asleep.”

“I don’t think he sleeps much anymore. Not since you left.” Hoseok studies the confusion on Jungkook and Luna’s faces. “Look, I don’t know what he wants exactly, but he’s been everywhere lately. I’m just giving you a heads up. And trying to save the couch that I actually like resting on. Please don’t taint it.”

“Sorry, Hoseok,” Luna giggles. “He was supposed to be teaching me how to control my power.”

“I don’t need to know,” Hoseok says shaking his head to stop the details that hadn’t even begun. “Just use your room. Or any other hiding place that isn’t shared by the rest of us.”

“Thanks for looking out,” Jungkook smiles.

“Now go,” Hoseok says waving them off. “Don’t get into any trouble.”

Jungkook stands and gives Hoseok a salute. “Aye aye,” he says taking Luna’s arm. The pair wave to Hoseok and leave the room.

[gilded-fern]

!Yandere Zhongli x Reader x !Yandere Childe

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing fanfiction in a long time. Like I haven’t done this in years. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading and constructive critiscm is always welcomed!

Word Count: 3,137

Reader uses she/her

Warnings - Yandere characters, Violence, Reader gets drugged

Minors DNI

This is SFW no naughty scenes but I still don’t want minors interacting with my page.

Time has become seamless for you, day or night it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve been stuck in this forsaken house, in this awful room, and somewhat soft bed. The bed was the most luxurious you’ve ever been in, but you wouldn’t admit that. You held onto your anger. You use the grief of a normal life stolen from your to fight back against the men that stole you away. Took you from your quaint little shop in Liyue’s wonderfully crowded streets and noise. The life you now realize you loved so much. There were downsides to it of course, but you loved it. You adored the regulars and new faces in your flower store. The smiles lit up an entire person’s face when you presented an arrangement. The anguish you felt for this stolen life powered your rage. This fury pushed you to become the most inconvenient being for your captors.

You did not realize through your lamenting that Zhongli had entered your room. The gentleman quietly stares at your curled form in the bed. “Love, how are you feeling? Are you hungry at all? Or thirsty? I have freshly brewed tea in the other room.” As he spoke, Zhongli walked to stand next to you. Slight leaning down to rest a hand on your shoulder. Zhongli’s amber eyes scanned over your form. Perhaps scanning for any sign of injury. Not that you could hurt yourself in this glorified cage.

“I’m not hungry, and I don’t want your tea.” You grumbled scooting and facing away from Zhongli. The funeral parlor frowned slightly, setting a hand on his chin. Silence stretched out for a moment, the presence making you curl up tighter in discomfort. Archons you hated it when they just stared at you. Analyzed you like a pretty painting on a wall. It was dehumanizing.

“This is not up for debate, you must eat. You’ve barely eaten at all for the past week” Zhongli pleaded, taking a seat next to your lying form. Once more he rested a hand on your shoulder. “I know you are… upset with everything. But we will not stand to watch you…” Zhongli’s voice droned on and you simply ignored it. Letting his voice become background noise as you stared at the wall in front of you. The plain panels became the backdrop for your daydreaming. As your mind wandered to life different from this one. An existence that when you realized Zhongli’s and Childe’s predatory behavior, you fled. Or even left before you even met the pair. You settled down in Mondstat, you could have worked at one of the many bars located within the land of freedom. That would be nice.

“Love…? Are you even listening to me?” Zhongli’s voice rips through your daydreaming like a rusty knife. Tearing uneven edges in the pretty picture you created in your mind. Holding back an annoyed sigh. You shrugged off Zhongli’s hand flipping over to look at him. You're met with concerned eyes, brows furrowed in concern, and a slight frown upon his face. You stay silent, which prompts the man to speak one more time. “I was asking what you wanted… I’ll get you anything you want. Just so you promise to eat it” A thought crawls into your brain as you sit up slightly Zhongli scooting away ever so slightly to give you room. You opened your mouth to speak but paused. Could this work? What would happen if you failed? Setting aside your doubt you tentatively began.

“Can you get me something from Wanmin Restaurant? I just, I miss their food..” you lowered your head to your hands that rested in your lap. Hoping the pitiful act was enough to have Zhongli lower his guard. There was silence for a moment and you looked up at Zhongli apprehensively as he let out a sigh.

“You won’t eat anything I make?” Zhongli spoke softly a twinge of hurt laced his voice. You shake your head no. Holding back the excited grin that threatened to form. “Very well then, I will go get you something from Wanmin Restaurant. But agree to stay in this room while I leave.”

“Yes of course..” you spoke, a little too fast. Zhongli stared at you for a moment before continuing. “Then the contract is made, I will be back soon dear” Zhongli stood making his way out of the room and closing the door with a click of the lock. You paused, no way it was that easy to have Zhongli leave. Was he so desperate to get you to eat he’d leave you unattended? You waited with bated breath as you heard footsteps around the house and the familiar closing of the front door echoing through the house. Springing out of the bed you pinpointed your gaze on the dresser next to the door. Nearly tripping over your own feet you slowly pushed the dresser in front of the door. Hopefully, this would buy you some more time when you made your grand escape. Wiping the sweat from your brow, your eyes swept through your room once more. Looking at the bed posts you remembered one of the decorative pieces had come loose. Tightly grasping the wooden accent you ripped it from the bedpost. You grunted in approval and walked to the window. Tightly gripping the wooden piece you slammed it repeatedly against the glass. The resounding thuds only fuel your desire to escape from this cursed place.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. You were ready to cry. You could no longer take being stuck in the cursed home. You would rather die than spend one more day here. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Tears sprang to your eyes. Now you were crying. “Come on you stupid fucking window! Just break already!” Thud. Thud. Thud. Thu- a crack? Another slam into the glass. The crack turned into a web. Throwing the wood to the ground you took a deep breath. Took a few steps back from the window. Closed your eyes. And full sprinted with your shoulder first. You fell through, the glass surrounding you as you fell into the grass. Groaning out in pain you opened your eyes to… the sun. The clouds, trees, fresh air. Scrambling up to your feet you gazed around at your new world. How refreshing it was to be outside the same 4 walls and in the vast expanse of the outside. The grass felt wonderful on your bare feet. And ever so cautiously you tip-toed around broken grass. Before breaking out into a run from the prison that entrapped you. It was so exhilarating. The breeze pushes through your hair and cools your skin. The sun shines in your eyes, nearly blinding you, but you loved it. You relished in all of the senses that combined for the single feeling of freedom.

So you ran, through the day and into the night. Begging for scraps from small villages scattered across Liyue. Sneaking around Geovishaps, Bandits, and the various dangers of the land. You ran. Your feet are bruised and worn from the unforgiving terrain. Your hair is sweaty and matted from the constant movement. Your skin is filled with dirt and oils. But you relished it... You loved being free. You thrived on being away from your captors.

The initial running lasted around 3 days. On the 4th day, you decided to rest, the sun melting into the horizon covering the land in golds and pinks. Wiping your sweat for the umpteenth time you let out a sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve made it this far… and they still haven’t found me!” you laughed and cried. Tears of joy and relief. The surroundings around you became ignored as you celebrated, laughed, and cried. How long this went on was unknown to you. But when your celebrations ended your exhaustion reared its ugly head. Taking solace under a nearby tree you unpacked the small lunch a kind old lady had packed you. She found you running through a village. And the sweet old lady asked you a simple question “Why are you running?” You only responded with “To be safe and free”. The kind old lady seemed to understand. Ushering you into her home to pack you food and supplies for your journey. It wasn’t a lot, only enough to last you a few days. But her kindness made you realize just how little prepared you were on your journey. Her kindness met the world to you. And it only pushed your determination to succeed in staying away from the monsters. Finishing the small sandwich you had unwrapped you realized that you would need a more protected area. Looking around you saw nothing to be used as shelter. Just grass, bushes, a few trees, some random ruins, and a man. Wait- a man? Blinking a few times you saw two men walking towards you, who? Soon the features became clear, the dark hair and clothes of Zhongli and Orange hair and the infamous outfit of Childe. Shit.

Upon realizing your kidnappers were approaching, quite quickly woke your legs up. And suddenly you were running. Pure instinct and adrenaline flooded your senses once more as your feet pounded the ground. Tears sprung to your eyes, not out of happiness but pure fear. Shit. How did they find you? Your vision was blurry due to tears. And it was darkening? How perfect, now was the time you were going to succumb to your exhaustion. Everything seemed to drag on, the sounds around you seems muffled. Do you think Zhongli and Childe were chasing after you yelling? Archons, everything felt like you were underwater like you were drowning. It was dark, it was cloudy, and your brain was foggy. You think you were still running. Hopefully, you were running on pure instincts. You don’t entirely know how long you were running.

All your senses came flooding at once as a sharp pain hit your calf. You screamed out falling to the ground Looking back you sway an arrow embedded into the back of your right leg. And not too far away was childe holding his bow down, but where was Zhongli? The question was soon answered as you saw him at your side amber eyes glaring down at you.

“No... no no no please no getaway” you weakly cried crawling away from him. “Please just get away no..” the words came out in broken sobs as you pitifully clawed at the grass.

“Did you need to shoot her Childe?” Zhongli’s voice reprimanded as you felt hands lift you. Something touched the arrow in your leg causing you to scream out in pain and writhe.

“Sorry, but I thought she was going to get away. Can’t have that after we worked so hard to find her!” Childe’s voice was too cheery, too laidback for the situation at hand. You can imagine him simply smiling as he walked over, his blue eyes shining with arrogance.

“I’m sure she would have succumbed to her exhaustion soon enough, although I am surprised she made it this far.”

“Yeah well what can we say, she’s a determined one. Aren’t ya girlie?”

You felt like vomiting, the way the two of them talked so casually about you. About how you were running away from them. The pair made it sound like you were having a tantrum. Like you were a petulant child upset with them for no reason. The rest of their conversation was nothing but words to you. You weren’t listening as you cried in Zhongli’s arms. Only mourning the shattering of your dream. They would never leave you alone after this. You were truly stuck in their grasp. You felt a hand rub your head as you sobbed in Zhongli’s coat. Whose it was didn’t matter to you. All you knew is that you were truly stuck with these two monsters. Your cries slowly died out as you succumb to your exhaustion, the last thing you heard was Zhongli talking about some broken contract…

When you awoke it was not the room you were accustomed to, instead, a more extravagant room met your eyes. You slowly sat up your calf flaring in pain as you moved. You slowly took in your surroundings. The decor confirmed that you were still in Liyue and unfortunately still in your captor’s grasp. A feeling of dread piled in your gut. It sat there like a lead weight making your stomach churn as nausea washed over you. Your hands grasped your abdomen. God, you felt like vomiting, the room was spinning. Why did you stop! You should have kept running! That poor old lady, she believed in you. And you failed her- Your self-deprecation was halted as the opening of a door caught your attention. Both Childe and Zhongli entered. The redhead lit up as he realized you were awake.

“Good Morning sunshine! Glad to see you up, I was worried about ya for a second!” Childe exclaimed, walking towards your curled form. “We were so worried about you! It is not safe for you to be running off like that. Especially breaking through the damned window.” The cheery tone darkened, and Childe’s blue eyes hardened. You nervously stared up at him as Zhongli came around the other side, sliding into the bed behind you and setting you in his lap. Arms winded around your waist and a head nuzzled on top of your own. You swallowed looking at the arms around your waist.

“I’m glad you aren’t hurt dear, though you are probably lacking in the nutrients to stay healthy. I prepared some herbal tea to aid your problem” Zhongli spoke his voice becoming muffled as he leaned into your shoulder. You tensed, why was he being so sweet? You did run away… Were they not mad? Chile appeared in front of you handing you a cup of steaming tea. The Harbinger nodded at you to drink as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. You tentatively took a sip and then another. The two men watched you, the room filled with only the sounds of you drinking. Once you finished you looked up at Childe who smiled at you and took your cup. The ginger left you and Zhongli alone in the room. Zhongli let out a low sigh pulling you impossibly closer into his chest.

“Are you mad at me? I’m assuming yes but this isn’t how I expected you two to react” You were the first to break the silence. The two men’s actions confuse and disorient you. Silence panned out for a moment before Zhongli responded.

“Yes, I am upset with you. extremely upset. But I’m more concerned than anything. You can’t take care of yourself, you are left with just the clothes on your back with no care for your survival. I was so scared, I thought someone broke in and stole you away from us. I thought you were escaping an intruder. But I realize you just left us… Why would you do something so stupid and reckless? What if you had been seriously injured?” Zhongli spoke, his voice unwavering. But you could sense the tiniest bit of emotion.

“I’m a grown adult, I think I can take care of myself…” You mumbled looking at the wall.

“You say that but you put yourself in danger and cannot even uphold the simplest of contracts.”

“Hold on, wait what contract? I never agreed or broke anything?” At this point, Childe comes back into the room taking a seat by the edge of the bed.

“You broke our contract” Zhongli cut the silence, his voice slightly muffled through your hair. “That makes me very angry dear”

Then suddenly it all hits you, the contract, that stupid verbal agreement you made not to run away. Did that truly count as a contract? “What? Do you mean that little promise?” you retorted trying to look over your shoulder at the man.

“All the first contracts were verbal, and you failed to uphold your side of the agreement. You must pay the consequences” Zhongli’s words were hard as stone and the arms around you tightened. “I don’t want to do this to you love but we must ensure you learn your lesson.”

“What lesson? That you two kidnapped me? Took me from my home and family—“ the words died on your tongue as Childe placed his hands on your injured calf. Your eyes widened as a slight twinge of pain popped up from the pressure.

“You sure about this ‘Li?” The ginger asked looking at the man behind you.

“Yes- the tea she drank should be settling in by now”

What? Hold on what did they do to your tea? It was just herbal- for hydration… Your head felt foggy as you stared at Childe. The two men seemed to have a silent conversation before Childe sighed moving closer to you. Did they drug your tea? Why would they do that? And why were Childe’s hands on your injured calf? It hurt, it's hurting. The pain and pressure just kept building and building and building until a snap was heard and overwhelming waves of pain flooded your system. You screamed and screamed. Tears washed down your cheeks as you thrashed around.

“What- what did you do?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” You screeched as Zhongli held you tighter. Your calf ebbed with pain. You continued to sob, the redhead busy securing your leg. Zhongli behind you petting your hair and shushing you. It all hurt, it hurt so much. Your body felt like lead. Your brain becomes foggy as all other sensations died out as your leg hurt. It fucking hurt. Did they break it? Holy shit- You looked down to see Childe gently propping your le

“Sorry sweetcheeks- didn’t really want to do this but you can’t be running away on us like that.” Childe apologized making his way to the side of the bed and lying down next to you. Resting his head on your chest. “Say Zhongli, do you know when it should take effect? They don’t seem too good” The redhead asked casually. It was insulting. Here you are writhing and crying in pain and he’s asking questions so casually. As if he didn’t just break your damn leg.

“It should be soon now” Zhongli replied gently petting your head. That.. felt nice? You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Trying to ignore the pain, focusing on the soft ministrations the two men were doing. Zhongli petting your hair. Childe playing with your shirt. Your body felt heavy, you sunk into Zhongli and the bed a bit more. You were sleepy. The pain slowly faded into a dull ebb as the sweet temptation of sleep lured you away