#anyway the point is. in this feverish week i made the decision of start watching mob psycho. i don't know when i'm going back to

[ijustcantfigureout]

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[corvidkingden]

Hello it is me the Panda asking for some good good Promptis idiots in love

Promptis, idiots in love?

Got it. How about a first kiss that almost didn't happen? [Read it on ao3]

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“Noct, I swear if you don’t get your ass up here,” Prompto called down to him from where he was perched rather precariously on the edge of the cliff overlooking their camp. It wasn’t particularly high, high enough to give them a bit of space from Gladio and Ignis, but low enough that Prompto felt capable of scaling it on his own. Just barely so though, any higher and he would not be up there, he was a disaster walking and he knew it. It was a miracle he’d made it up without any scrapes as it was. Grinning widely he leaned forward just enough to peer down at Noctis as he stood at the base of the cliff, looking up at him silently judging for not just asking to be warped up.

“Yeah yeah, I’m comin’, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall off,” he huffed out, taking a few steps back for a better vantage before warping up beside him. It was a far more graceful approach than the blonde’s awkward clamoring up the side of the rocky wall. Which he most definitely watched him do but was pretending he didn’t for now. He’d tease him later for the number of times he stopped to give himself a pep talk.

“So what’s so important-woo!” Noctis yelped in surprise at suddenly being dragged down by the surprisingly strong blonde, his heart rate spiking as he teetered over the edge, but Prompto held a firm grip on him. He had half a mind to chew him out for being so reckless, even if he could have easily warped out of falling, but the moment he planted himself next to him what little anger that fueled the urge faded. The unabashed joy he saw on that freckled face, lit up with a grin, was all it took to melt it away.

He made it so hard to be mad at him.

“Look,” Prompto answered, nudging his shoulder with his own as he gestured up at the sky, turning Noct’s attention away from him for now. He probably could have kept staring at that grin all night otherwise.

The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, dipping low between the trees in the distance, still painting the land in golds and pinks where it shone through them. But the highest point of the sky was now a deep blue black, stars twinkling overhead. It was beautiful for sure, but it was hardly their first night under the stars. So what made this one so special? “What am I looking at?”

“You have no eye, I swear, come here,” the crownsguard huffed in exasperation, hooking his arm around his neck and dragging him in closer as he pointed straight ahead. “Look again.”

Noctis was momentarily distracted though, focused more on how close they were than where Prompto was trying to get him to look. All he could think about was his warmth, his smile, how he could see every tiny little freckle, even the palest ones that dusted his cheeks. How easy it would be to lean in and kiss across them and watch those cheeks turn pink. But he forced himself to look ahead, catching sight of what Prompto was pointing out just in time. A small shooting star danced across the sky in an arc of light, making him gasp softly. “Oh shit…”

“See? Told you,” Prompto murmured, in awe of the sight himself, watching the shooting star disappear into the black blanket of the night sky. His arm stayed hooked around Noctis as they both watched more slowly light up the expanse of darkness, turning the void into a shimmering pool of light.

It was beautiful, peaceful, a much needed moment of serenity after everything that had happened already and...well everything they still had to prepare for. They could hear Ignis and Gladio talking below while they prepared dinner, the tent long since set up. Insects and frogs chirped in the distance, the world falling asleep around them and falling away entirely as they both drifted and were lost in the moment.

Without thinking, Prompto looked over at Noctis as the meteors started to dwindle, growing fewer and less frequent, about to make a snide remark about him trusting him next time. But his words caught in his throat. He could see the reflection of them in his blue eyes, the small smile that curled on his lips as he’d fully relaxed for the first time in weeks. He was even more beautiful than the night sky above and all the man could do was stare in silent awe.

Feeling his gaze on him, Noctis turned to ask him why he wasn’t looking but he never got to get the words out, their noses brushing from the proximity, a tension settling between them so suddenly it almost seemed to knock the wind from them both. It wasn’t new, it was something that had always been there between them but they both tried so desperately to ignore it. It was never the right time, never the right place. Neither of them could seem to drum up the guts to admit to the feelings overwhelming them, completely unaware that the other felt the same.

The air between them felt heavy, hot, a spark of static tingling across their skin as they were caught frozen in limbo. Who would move first, would either of them even do it? Would this finally be the moment to break their resolve or would it soon be catalogued as another too little, too late. Noctis could hardly think past the sound of his own heart thumping heavy in his chest, dulling out the sound of anything else.

Just as he thought maybe, maybe he could do it, maybe now was the time to swallow his nerves and seize it, they were interrupted. “Dinner is ready,” Ignis’ voice carried up to them from below, unaware of the moment he’d just cut into so abruptly. “You’d do well to come down anyway, you’re not in range of the runes and daemons should be coming out any moment. I’d really rather not have to spend another night listening to an Iron Giant lurking outside our camp please.”

“Right-right, sorry, Iggy. We’re coming,” Prompto called back, stumbling over his words as he quickly let go of Noctis, pulling away to try and find his own air to breathe and gather his thoughts again. They’d been so close, he’d been only moments away from ruining everything by closing what little space had been left between them. Ignis calling out was a blessing and he didn’t even know it. He was flushed so thoroughly that he felt feverish, his heart was practically trying to break out of his chest the way it was beating so hard and his stomach was twisting so painfully he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to eat dinner. But he needed to get down there and regain control over this. He’d gone this long keeping his crush a secret he was not going to let it slip now.

Noctis cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the two men below already plating up their meals. He knew he should say something, even if the moment was ruined, because that was the closest they’d ever been and who knew when it would happen again. If it would happen again. He needed to tell Prompto before they left for Altissia and he might have just lost his chance. “I uh…”

“Thanks for coming up and watching them with me,” Prompto cut him off, that brilliant smile gracing his face again, though Noctis could see the hesitation and worry in his eyes. He knew him too well to fall for that grin, even if it did make him feel a bit warm and more than a little fuzzy inside.

“Yeah, yeah of course...surprised you didn’t get any pictures,” he smiled back, laughing slightly, hoping he could ease the awkwardness that had settled between them by sparking up another conversation instead of simply warping away. It seemed to work because Prompto truly lit up almost instantly, hopping up off the ledge.

“Actually, I did! I had my camera on the tripod getting some long exposures,” he grinned widely gesturing behind them, earning a laugh from the prince when he saw it. “Two steps ahead of you bud.”

“Always are,” Noct shook his head, eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at his best friend for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to just drag him right back in and fully close that space between them, to finally feel those soft lips against his own.

Prompto floundered silently under his gaze, looking back at him, feeling frozen in place as he tried to read what he saw in those eyes. As he tried to fight his own desire to scurry back over and lean in to kiss him too.

“If you’re much longer, Gladio may come up and drag the two of you down here himself,” Ignis called again, completely ruining the moment once more. Prompto saw it as a blessing, saving him from potentially making a horrible decision, but Noctis wanted to warp down and smack him for cock blocking him twice now. Kiss blocking? That just sounds weird.

“Coming!” Prompto called, snatching his camera off the tripod and tucking it away in his pocket again, tossing the tripod back into the armiger in one smooth motion. Marching back over to the ledge he eyed it a bit skeptical, trying to figure out the best way to scale back down the side of the cliff. Climbing up it had been so much easier, though it helped that he hadn’t looked down the whole time.

Seeing the nervous look on his face, Noctis saw an opportunity, hooking an arm around his middle and pulling him in close. “I got ya,” he said, though it had sounded way more suave in his mind. But he didn’t give it time to ruminate, warping the two of them back down into the camp below in a spark of blue light.

When they landed, dizzy and warm and full of adrenaline, they forgot that they weren’t alone for a moment. Pressed close as they were, chest to chest, Noct’s arm still wound tight around Prompto’s waist to keep him safe, it was like something straight out the movies. It would be so easy, so perfect, to just close that gap.

Noct could feel his nerves quickly dwindling under the weight of how much he wanted to just kiss him already, overpowered by the build up of years and years of denying himself. He wondered if Prompto felt the same, the way he could feel his heart racing said yes but the kid was shakier than a chihuahua, it could mean anything.

“You two need a room?” Gladio taunted as he made his way over to help Ignis pass out the plates, an all too amused grin spreading across his lips as he took in the sight of them huddled so close. He and Ignis had been able to read the tension between them from the start, but at this point it was so palpable it was unbearable. They’d both had half a mind to just shove them together themselves. But Ignis insisted that if it were to happen to let it happen at it’s own pace.

“Shouldn’t you be doin’ push ups or something?” Noctis shot back at him, and if looks could kill Gladio would be dead where he stood. Much as he wanted to do this, he wanted to be the one to tell Prompto how he felt, not Gladio and his big mouth. Letting go of the blonde in question, he didn’t notice that the boy looked ready to burst; he was so red. Slipping away from him he took one of the offered plates and planted himself down in one of the chairs to eat.

They eventually all settled in, no one daring to bring up what had just happened, though Prompto was uncharacteristically quiet through dinner. Noct kept looking his way hoping to catch his eye, trying to pull him into the conversation but Prompto was thoroughly distracted it seemed. Maybe he was reading the signs all wrong? He felt his stomach twist nervously at the thought, what if he’d made him uncomfortable?

He was entirely unaware that Prompto was just trying to figure out the very same. His mind was reeling, flip flopping frantically between imagining those lips against his and the thought of him pushing him away. Maybe he was wrong and Noct wasn’t trying to kiss him, maybe he was just trying to be nice and not flat out reject him.

But if he did want to, what did that mean for them? Was it even worth pursuing at this point? He was supposed to get married soon, that was the whole reason they were out here in the first place. Astrals, this was too confusing, it was so much easier when he thought his crush was entirely one sided.

Ignis and Gladio were all too aware of the tension between them, they’d seen it coming a mile away and if either of them were asked, they’d say they were surprised it took this long for it to finally happen. When neither Noctis nor Prompto seemed to be paying attention to what was going on the two older men got up to clean off their plates and clear away what was out from making dinner, giving the boys a moment with their backs turned.

It took a second, but Noctis realized the pointed departure, watching them to be sure he wasn’t misreading it before stretching his leg out to nudge Prompto’s boot. “Hey…”

“Hm?” Prompto quickly lifted his head, flushing slightly at being caught completely zoned out.

“Can we...talk?”

“Oh-uh yeah-yeah sure,” he nodded, brow furrowing immediately with worry. This was it, this was where he’d tell him off, turn him away. At least he’d been preparing for this for a long time, he was ready for it. At the end of the day he was just happy to be his friend after all.

Noctis stood then, a bit solemnly seeing the way Prompto’s face turned. He’d definitely made him uncomfortable it seemed, so at least this way he could apologize with a bit of privacy. Leaving his plate by his seat, he offered Prompto a hand up, tugging the blonde from his chair once he set his own plate down.

They walked to the far edge of camp, putting more distance between them and the older men, sitting on the edge of the rune lined space they both kicked their legs, an awkward silence settling between them. It was the polar opposite of the peaceful quiet they’d had up on the cliff, making them both want to scream just to break it.

“Noct, I…”

“Let me,” Noctis said, patting his knee gently, leaving his hand there as he turned to look at him. He could feel that lump swelling in his throat again, stomach twisting anxiously but he knew he needed to do this before he lost the chance again. “You...you’re my best friend, you know that right?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Prompto nodded, shifting to face him more as his stomach dropped heavily like lead. Rejection he could deal with, but was he about to say he didn’t want to be friends anymore either? “Of course, forever right?”

“Forever,” the prince nodded, looking into those lilac eyes and seeing the worry in them. Maybe that wasn’t the way to start this off, he opened his mouth to speak again but stopped lost on what else to say that wouldn’t simply make it worse.

“...Noct, it’s-it’s okay,” Prompto reached out, taking his hand. “I understand, you don’t have to say it. I made you uncomfortable and I know I shouldn’t have, it really wasn’t my intention. But I still want to be friends with you, I don’t want to lose that-that’s so much more important to me.”

“No, Prom, wait--” Noctis tried to interject as he watched him fall into one of his flustered tangents. They were endearing, but he was going to dig a hole for the both of them with this one.

“Honestly, I knew I was okay with it a long time ago, and I’m sorry I made it weird earlier. I really promise I wasn’t trying to. I just get so in my head sometimes and I don’t think about what I’m doing or-or what I’m saying--”

“Prompto,” he groaned.

“I just want to make sure you know I’m not gonna be upset, I get it, I’m not goin’ anywhere--”

Noctis cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, shutting him up with the crash of his lips against his, feeling him tense at first before melting right into the kiss. Pushing his fingers back into his soft blonde hair, he pulled him closer, shifting so their noses weren’t pushed together so uncomfortably. Feeling Prom’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt and tighten only made his heart leap though. This was it, it was happening.

They kissed until they were breathless, until it felt like the world was spinning faster and yet somehow frozen all at once, pulling away only because their lungs begged it of them. Their foreheads still pressed together, Noct let his hands slide down to the sides of his neck, simply holding him there as their breathing mingled, steadying despite the frantic patter of their hearts.

“You’ve really gotta let me speak next time,” Noctis murmured, grinning as a giddy laugh bubbled up out of Prompto.

“Shut up,” he huffed in mock exasperation, pulling him right back in and kissing him again, feeling every ounce of worry fall away from his shoulders.

It wasn’t what either of them had pictured, but it was special nonetheless. Sat underneath the stars, far away from any of their problems, they lost themselves in one another for what brief moment the gods would grant.

[shozaii]

Hawks, Aizawa, and Present Mic with an s/o who has a deadbeat parent? They've only seen their parent a few times in their life and they've pretty much never talked to eachother at all? Please and thank you 💗

(a/n): thank you for the request!💕 i hope you enjoy it🥰

p.s.; deadbeat holds the definition of a parent regardless of gender who does not want to take full responsibility on the child. for instance; on terms of child support,etc.

masterlist

rules.

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a s/o with deadbeat parent(s)

pairings: hawks x reader; aizawa x reader; present mic x reader

warnings: deadbeat! parents

hawks

keigo has never really seen your parent(s). it was like once or twice, but not too many which sealed a proper meeting. and neither did you.

you wanted a change in that, so you made a decision to see them, when you could. it wasn’t for a purpose of reunions or such; it was for the sake of letting them know you still exist.

sometimes he follows you when he has his days off. knowing that you visit them after a gap of two weeks.he still had no idea with how distant you are with them. so when they did talk to you, it just seemed off. the exchange was really discreet, not much of looking each other into the eye. basically stuff that he finds intriguing.

it has happened frequently - they even pretended like you weren’t there. and it’s not like he doesn’t want to question you,,,he wanted to verify that whatever he was witnessing was actually according to his assumptions.

before he asked you, though, he has seen how unusually down you look, so while you’re both heading home, he gets you your favorite treats, or tries to distract you from what you were currently thinking. he might even go for little walks, just for you to get some fresh air while he rubs little circles on your back to calm you down.

that one day, he was sitting in the living room, waiting for you to be done. he started to hear things being thrown onto the floor, muffled screaming and arguing. maybe that would’ve been his final straw. so the moment you stormed out of the door, he grabbed your hand, leading you out of the house your parents resided in.

the whole journey home was pretty silent. no one talked. you were wiping away your tears as he held you close, wiping them away with his thumbs. he did mumble, “we’re almost there. hang on.”

once you were both home, you seemed to sob even harder than before. he didn’t dare to talk just yet - instead he had you in his arms, pulling you in closer whenever it got more intense.

when you calmed down, he looked at you, brushing your fallen hair strands away from your wet cheeks. “i wanted to know earlier. i really did. i’m so sorry i didn’t put effort into it; i wanted to make sure i wasn’t making assumptions-,”

“keigo.”

“yeah?”

“i’m sorry you had to see that. all of it. i didn’t want to tell you about it - what was the point, anyway? i just didn’t know it would get worse.”

“you don’t have to apologize, y/n. none of this is your fault, okay? now you’re here with me, and if i have to hold you in my arms for as long as possible, i would. now don’t you ever say that you’re wrong.”

and the night went on, until you fell asleep in his embrace. he was genuinely glad that you’ve let it out at the right time, and he’s going to do everything he can to be by your side.

aizawa

he didn’t mind if he met your parent(s) or not. shouta most probably had this thought of you wanting to know more about him; which is why you were talking less about it. all that mattered was your happiness.

he also knows the times you have visited them, and you do it alone. when you do return, you don’t exactly have the relieved/happy expression. it has always been sour. 

“everything alright?” he would ask, sitting up just to look at you.

“meh, maybe.”

“y/n. babe. you can’t brush it off with a maybe.”

you do,anyway. ‘tired’ or ‘feverish’ or ‘my eyes are so heavy right now.’

that’s it. he’s going to meet them, and he wants to see it with his very own eyes. what was going on over there? why were you not doing well everytime you came home? who hurt you, most importantly?

he waited until the day you told him you were going for a visit. he hops out from his nap, walks up to you, and tells you he wants to come along. of course, he did notice the worried look in your eyes. afraid that he might break the actual reason why; he had to ignore said look, and continue insisting on following you.

you had to give in - maybe the day has finally come for him to know more of them. well, you barely knew much yourself.

when he was there, he absolutely did not see it coming. how your parent(s) didn’t really bother about your arrival. how they definitely did, but did not notice shouta walking in along with you. he was baffled.

he was upset. sad that he didn’t know any of this earlier. the more he witnessed how it went down - the more he blamed himself for not paying attention.

moreover, how could you take all of this? 

he sighed heavily, and got a hold of you when you were done talking to them. “let’s go home. got anything else to tell ‘em?”

you stared at him, and then back at them. “n-no. not at all.”

the two of you ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, watching the sunset.

“so....this is why.”

“yeah. i didn’t know how to open up about them, anyway. i’ve never been close to them my whole life. it feels so surreal that i still have contact with them - you can say whatever you want, shouta. i don’t mind.”

“what even do i have to say? it’s not like you chose this path, did you?”

you shook your head. he wasn’t wrong.

“talk to me. i’m here with you for a reason. but then again - i’m sorry i didn’t pay attention. whatever it is, we’re going through this together. i’m not gonna leave you behind,” he said this while holding both your hands, eyes looking into yours once more.

“together,” you felt a smile creep up on your face after a very long, stressful day.

present mic

we all know hizashi as a fun, down-to-earth person. but like every character i’ve seen and connected with in bnha; i can say that he has the softest soul ever. 

he’s pretty observant, too. i can tell. a little change in his s/o’s behavior - in particular - and he rushed over to them, and confronts them about it.

one thing he has obliviously noticed in you is your change in emotions when a topic about parents in general is brought up. weird. everyone around him isn’t reacting to it, so why you?

you have shown him a few pictures of them. it was very small talk about them, and you seemed to be rushing through the topic. and he has offered to come along with you when you went for visits, but you always insisted that he needed some rest or he had loads of work to do. or you had other errands you had to take care of.

he was so confused. was this meant to be secretive? it was probably for the best, but he couldn’t stop worrying. every time you did go out(which was probably ranging from two months to two weeks per visit), he would sit and stare into the void, thinking of ways to ask you about it.

“how was your day, baby~?” he would ask you. you’d reply with “meh” while crawling into bed, nuzzling into him.

that was a drastic change in you. he needed and wanted to take matters into his own hands. this was a situation of now or never.

it didn’t take longer than expected, when you received a phone call from them. your relatives have encouraged you to go visit them after a week of meeting them. the recent one was heartbreaking enough - what was going to turn out from this?

the moment hizashi had heard of it, he was all dressed up in a jiffy. denying it would probably make him feel a little hurt - but what if he gets disappointed just by the relationship your parents have?

like shouta, he’d take a brief look and immediately feel like someone slapped some sense into him. this is why y/n was silent. this was why y/n was uneasy when anyone was talking about parents, this was why, this was why that; the list went on and on in his train of thought, eyes widening by seconds.

as expected, his s/o’s parents didn’t really welcome the both of you. it wasn’t a happy reunion. the tension built in the air terribly. hizashi felt terrible. 

you were such an amazing person at heart; always helping anyone in need. showering him with all the love. dedicating your life to becoming a pro hero with hard work and determination. endless smiles. this was a whole different look.

the visit your relatives have planned didn’t go too well. on the drive back home, he held your hand, never letting it go the whole time.

“well, hizashi, i’m sorry you had to see that. i didn’t know how you would react. you’ve helped me change so much in person and i can’t afford to lose you. never.”

his eyes widened. “woah, y/n!” he pulled you into a hug. “what do you mean lose? i’d have to say the same thing to you, babe. but i’m really glad you showed me what i deserved to know. i want to connect both of our feelings together, so that understanding would be so much more easier. don’t you ever think i’m leaving you because of this. i’m all yours.”

proceeds to give you kisses all around your face. he knows you deserve it.

hizashi has so much of love for you it pours out like endless streams of confetti. he has always been by your side; and will continue to do so. both emotionally and physically.

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(a/n): this is my view on the topic. i didn’t want it to be too angsty, and made sure to add loads of fluff in it. i hope you liked it! :>

[loversamongus]

Coffee, Chills, and Closeness | modern!Zuko x reader

a/n: I was really happy with the way Friends, Fevers, and Family Movies came out so I decided to write a sequel to it in which you now have to take care of a sick, grumpy, little Zuko. I just really love good ol’ fluff.

warnings: characters sick with the flu; some language

words: 2.2k

After a few more days of bed rest and bowls of Katara’s special flu season homemade soup, you were starting to feel much better. The color reappeared in your face, the bounce returned to your step, and clarity chased out the dizziness in your head. Your best friends noticed your change in health and mood almost immediately.

“Must be my soup,” Katara said as you bounced past her in the kitchen to reach your cereal. You couldn’t help but question a knowing look in her eye. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“Or maybe just some good nights of sleep,” she continued. “You’ve had a smile plastered on your sleepy face for a couple nights now.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you’ve been watching me sleep and eat my breakfast now, if you don’t mind.”

But what Katara said couldn’t be completely ignored, no. You don’t often remember your dreams, but recently you’ve been able to remember one recurring image that has appeared in your subconscious for the last few nights in a row. A certain shaggy haired, golden eyed someone kissing your forehead, just the remembrance of the sensation is enough to give you the chills again. Of course, there were cowboy dolls and astronaut action figures dancing in the background so the mushiness of the dream didn’t last too long.

It’s funny how the nostalgia of your childhood could wiggle its way into any dream, conversation, or movie night decision. You didn’t have a particularly cushy childhood but it was stable enough compared to your friends. While little you sat on the floor of your living room rewatching The Lion King for the umpteenth time, Sokka and Katara were mourning the loss of their mother, Aang was shouldering enormous responsibility that isolated him from his grammar school friends, Toph was being sheltered and completely restricted from most activities by her parents, and Zuko. Well Zuko hasn’t shared much about his childhood with you but the parts he did definitely weren’t filled with faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Your thoughtful reminiscing was quickly interrupted by Sokka barging through the front door, carrying three cups of Jasmine Dragon tea. While handing one cup to his sister and one cup to you, a devilish smirk grew on his face.

“You got your boyfriend sick.”

“My what?”

“You heard me. Iroh told me he came in for his shift all wheezing and hacking and snivelly and had to send him home. Sounds a lot like someone I know.”

“I- Sokka, Zuko isn’t my boyfriend. “

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not the funniest, sexiest, strongest, most talented man on the planet.”

You heard Katara nearly choke on her orange juice and you reached to pat her on the back before grabbing your wallet and house keys.

“Okay well, I don’t have time to unpack all of that with you. I have to get to the diner.”

At this point, Sokka had already made his bowl of cereal and with a very full mouth, he seemed to be talking to his spoon more so than you. “That’s because you know it’s Zuko.”

“What?”

“I said tell Suki I love her!”

With a roll of your eyes, you headed out the door. For a few moments, you grumbled to yourself over the annoyance of Sokka’s teasing. But very quickly into your walk to the diner, a wave of guilt rushed over you. Zuko is sick with the flu. You knew you shouldn’t have snuggled up to him or cried on his shoulder while watching Toy Story 2!

“Okay but it’s not all my fault. He’s the one that kissed me on my feverish forehead. That was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself.

Once at the diner, you headed to the workroom to get your apron but before starting the breakfast shift, you took out your phone to send a quick text.

hey heard you were sick :( how ya doing?

Not a minute goes by before you get a response.

Uncle exaggerates. I’m completely fine.

Letting out a sigh, you wonder how you could have met anyone as stubborn as you. The small smile forming on your lips is quickly erased by the sound of your manager calling for you to get on the floor. Your sick friend would have to wait.

The morning shift started out the same as it always had, and you were grateful for the routine after being out sick for the past week. A couple of the regulars welcomed you back with warm smiles and kind tips, while you still made sure to avoid small talk with some of the other diner patrons. Seriously, what was up with that cabbage obsessed man? The morning hours seemed to fly by with ease. Just as you were refilling a coffee pot, however, your calm routine was shattered when you noticed a very pale, black-haired man slouched over one of your tables.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled at him before passing his table to refill one of your other table’s coffee mugs.

“Getting some breakfast,” he whispered back, propping his droopy head up on his hand.

“Well it’s almost lunch now, you idiot.”

“Getting some brunch then.” A dopey smile appeared on his face but you could see in his eyes that he must not have slept well last night.

“Zuko,” you said, almost scolding. “You shouldn’t be here. You have the flu.”

“I do not. I’m just tired. Can I have some coffee, please?”

“If you’re just tired, why do you sound all congested?” you asked as you poured some coffee for him.

“Allergies,” he replied simply but unconvincingly.

“Oh my god, Zuko,” you began to raise your voice but immediately regretted it when you saw your friend raise his hands to his head. A migraine no doubt, the memory of those still fresh in your head from your own bout with the flu. Lowering your voice, you spoke to him again.

“Why did you come here when you’re sick?”

“It’s Tuesday. I always come in for breakfast on Tuesdays to see you.”

Goddamnit. After being out for a week, you completely lost track of what day it was. Also goddamnit again. Zuko really dragged himself out just to keep up this little ritual even though he looks AWFUL. Okay, not completely awful because somehow even when he’s sick, the way he looks at you could give you chills and suddenly you’re remembering that forehead kiss again and--

“Excuse me, miss? Can I get some more orange juice?”

“Yes, of course. One moment please,” you snap out of your thoughts and reply to your waiting tables.

Before going over to satisfy your customer’s request, however, you turn back to Zuko with a gentle smile. “I’ll bring you some toast and some fruit. I’m sure that’s all you’ll be able to keep down anyways.”

It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill Zuko’s order and once it was complete, you headed back over to his direction. You had to stop right in your tracks for a moment though and take in the picture before you. In the booth sat a sleepy little Zuko still perched up on his hand but his eyes have fluttered shut. Noiselessly, you place down his plate of toast and fruit in front of him and gently nudge his shoulder to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Eat as much as you can. I’ve got one more table to take care of before my shift ends. Then you can drive me home. If you can stay awake, that is.”

“Mmmmmm thanks,” he muttered into his hand. 

You left him to pick at his food while you finished up with your last table. When you returned to Zuko about twenty minutes later, you jokingly congratulated him on eating half of his toast and a couple pieces of cantaloupe-- probably more than you had eaten when you had the flu yourself. As you started taking away his plate, you caught Zuko reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. Knowing what little you actually served him, you stopped him before he could take out more bills than was necessary.

“No, stop. We talked about this. I don’t take tips from friends.”

“It’s only fair and it’s the right thing to do.”

“No. You took care of me when I was sick, that covers it fine.”

“How ‘bout another tip? You should wear your hair up more often. It looks nice like that.”

“Here’s one for you. You’re delirious. Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

With that, your shift was over and you were gathering your things to go home. Zuko did manage to put up a little bit of a fight over letting you drive but once you shot him your “I’m serious, mister” look, he finally gave in. It was a short drive back home but you couldn’t help but glance over at your passenger every now and again. It was rare to see Zuko in such a state as he is always the put-together one in the friend group. That wave of guilt rushes over you again since you were the one that got him sick in the first place.

“No, it was the forehead kiss. His own fault,” you mumble to yourself.

“What?”

“NOTHING. Uh, Katara still has some leftover soup. Why don’t you come up and have some? OH! And we can finish Toy Story 2 since someone didn’t let me finish it last time.”

“I’ll come for the soup but not for the movie.”

“ZUKO. I was cured by the nostalgic joy of my childhood, it can cure you, too!!”

“I don’t have any ‘nostalgic joy from my childhood’ in case you forgot. My mother left, my father scarred my face, and my sister hates me.”

Thankful you had come to a red light, you looked over to Zuko with concern. But he did not look back. His head was leaning on the window and with his arms folded, he avoided your gaze and continued to stare out the window.

“Well, all the more reason to finish the movie,” you tried to say lightheartedly, but the rest of the drive was silent.

Once you’ve reached the apartment, you ordered Zuko to make himself comfy on the couch while you threw some soup in the microwave. You spy a note on the kitchen counter from Katara explaining that she’s out to lunch with Aang and Sokka went to the gym with Suki. You smiled, happy that you could avoid good-natured sibling teasing for the time being. When the soup was ready, you turned to find Zuko sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets and holding the remote for the DVD player.

“I thought you didn’t want to finish the movie,” you questioned, handing him the bowl of soup.

“But you do.”

Your grinned ecstatically, quickly moving to sit next to him on the couch.

“You shouldn’t get too close. You’ll get sick again.”

“I’m immune now, it’s fine,” you said as you reached to share one of his blankets.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. At all,” he replied, but his protests ended there as the movie started back up.

As you were getting yourself comfortable on the couch, your arm grazed Zuko’s and your body shook, chilled from the cold skin. Zuko noticed immediately and looked over at you questioningly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, you’re just cold. Eat your soup, it’ll warm you up.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Um, I had to take those pills when you watched me so the least you can do is eat some soup.”

With a small smirk, Zuko obliged and ate a few spoonfuls of soup before laying back against the couch. You cuddled up closer to him, figuring if the soup doesn’t warm him up, you definitely could. Once you rested your head on his shoulder, his head gently tilted to rest on yours, a much familiar scene from the time you were sick. Although the roles have been reversed this time around, the warmth of happiness bursting through your chest from this closeness is unchanged. You felt his left arm wrap around you before settling at your waist, and you reach up with your right hand to hold onto his. Sure, Toy Story 2 isn’t a romantic movie by any means, but it makes you happy. Just like Zuko does.

The movie ends with Wheezy singing his rendition of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” and you looked up at Zuko as if to say, “See? I told you Wheezy comes back. I love this part,” but he’s already asleep. It seems like you’ll never be able to get him to watch the whole movie, but you sighed contently anyways. Then, in a fit of sudden boldness, you sat up to inch closer to Zuko and kiss his cheek softly. 

He stirred and looked at you through drowsy, half-closed eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t kiss you back properly while I’m sick.”

You smiled and leaned in closer.

“I’ll settle for a forehead kiss for now.”

“Deal.” After giving to you what you asked for, he gazed admiringly at you for a few moments before falling back to sleep. You could have sworn he had a dopey grin on his face, too, and you wondered if this is what Katara saw on you the past few nights. You settle back against Zuko’s chest and let his breathing lull you to sleep. The two of you fell into such a deep sleep, while in each other’s arms, that not even the sound of Katara and Sokka double hi-fiving after spotting you both on the couch woke you up.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XII]

Word count:  9,092 (heh)

Warnings: vulgar language, and uh, a teeny tiny bit smutty 

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Edit: AO3 link

A/N: Late again. I’ll stop apologising now because it’s getting a little out of hand. Ignore the caption in the gif and focus on his face (and the outfit...). I couldn’t find another gif.

And, oh, the reader remains nameless.

______________________________________________________

“Just pick one, Mal,” I complained. “They all look the same, anyway.”

Mallory fixed her green eyes on me with a sour face through the boutique’s mirror, where she had been modeling pairs of shoes for the last hour. This was the sixteenth pair, by my count, and she had reserved 4 other pairs to pick from, which she “absolutely adored and would look fantastic with other outfits”. The shop assistant was waiting by the pairs of shoes, a tiny smile frozen on her lips in pretend amity or perhaps thinking about how fat of a commission she’d earn on account of Mal’s shopaholic tendencies.

Two years had gone without much talk between Mal and I, and I found that a few things hadn’t changed: her proclivity for spending incredible amounts of money in clothes and her forgetfulness. The last of which landed me in a Gloucester boutique with her because she’d forgotten to pack high-heels for the wedding. She’d called me earlier and invited me to have lunch with her and then go shopping. Upon finding a store that appealed to her taste, though, she forced me into the store with sweet promises of delicious food later. My stomach grumbled like it was angry at me for having agreed to it.

“I’d forgotten how much of a pain in the arse you become when you’re hungry,” Mallory said as she flopped next to me on the canape where I sat. I shot her an annoyed look and she giggled as she started undoing straps around her ankles. “I’ll pay for your desert!” Instantly, I opened a large grin. And she chuckled. “Glad to see your sweet tooth remained intact.”

My grin widened to a more genuine one. Mallory and I still had a lot to catch up when it came to our friendship but it wouldn’t be too much work, not when an easy sense of familiarity permeated our banter.

My complaint was enough to make Mallory decide and pay. It wasn’t much of a decision because she still paid for three pairs of shoes. Earlier, when she’d tried on the tenth pair I pointed out that she only needed one pair of shoes for the wedding but she shrugged it off, so I knew it was pointless to tell her again. How she would fit those new additions into her suitcase, and her closet back in London, was her problem.

Once we were out of the boutique, Mallory still looking forlornly at a pair on the display that was too expensive even for her, the bright sun of midday hit our eyes, making both of us blink in surprise. Clearly the hour we spent cooped inside a store was enough for England’s weather to shift out of sorts.

Considering the unlikely sun and the pleasant temperature, we chose a restaurant that had tables on the outside where we could bask in the sunlight and watch the influx of people walking towards Gloucester Cathedral. From where I sat, I could only see part of it but towers peaked a couple of roads over, providing a glimpse of how big the structure sprawled. It looked like an entirely different place during the day. Not at all spooky and mysterious as it had appeared the past night. Watching a group of nuns filing past me towards the cathedral, I smiled, wondering how horrified they would be if the priest shared with them about the encounter he’d had. I’m sure there would be tales about the two creatures dancing and then vanishing in the blink of an eye, and how it would be ascribed to either devils or angels making their presence known. Oddly, I wished for the first.

“What are you smirking about?” Mallory asked in her best teasing tone.

“Nothing,” I said, archly.

“Uh-huh.”

She didn’t have any more time to tease me because a waiter came to our table with menus. To the surprise of nobody, after a show of reading the entire menu, Mallory chose fish and chips and a glass of white wine. It was a trustworthy dish in any part of England, she always said, but it was also her favourite. I, for once, was more adventurous and chose baked lamb with garlic accompanied by sautéed potatoes, onions and aubergines. I saved myself from alcohol. I would need it later, for courage, I told myself. And also for the tinge of regret casting pinpricks on my heart.

“So,” Mallory began, swirling the white wine on her glass as we waited for our food. “Do you have a date for tonight?”

“Yes,” I replied simply, taking a few gulps of my water.

“And…?” She prodded.

“You tell me yours first,” I said. If I could bargain with her and she mentioned someone I knew, perhaps I would have a chance to get back at the teasing that was sure to come.

“Sean Larkin. The lean blond from the adjoining finance firm?” She sighed. “He wanted me to have lunch with him today but I waved him off. I’m saving myself for the wedding.” She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. As if Mallory would save anything for marriage.

“Isn’t he too young by your standards?”

“He’s older than me by a couple of years,” she retorted. “And look who’s talking about age standards! Didn’t you hook up with Ethan Prescott, our ethics professor, inside his office?”

“That was you, Mal.” I snickered at the blank look on her face. “Have you checked for Alzheimers with a doctor?”

“Oh, quit it.” She laughed into her glass, fogging it with her breath, before taking a sip. “My memory is completely fine. My body count is the problem. Now it’s your turn.”

“Maybe you don’t remember him but you know when last week you and I were supposed to go to Camden–”

“Oh my god, it’s the BMW guy!” She squealed. Her wine swung dangerously to the cup’s edges and she set the glass on the table. “Y/N, he’s your client.”

“Is not,” I countered, smiling impishly. It felt like college all over again when we would talk endlessly about boys during the early morning hours in our room. “He’s Renfield’s client. I’m just filling in for him while he’s away.”

“I bet you’re the one being filled–”

“Jesus, Mal!”

“What!” She threw her hands up in defense. “It’s just obvious you two are, you know, doing the deed.”

Clearly, Mallory also managed to preserve her crass manners when it came to guy-talk but still kept a strict rule over swearing. Figures.

“We’re not.”

She stared at me, open-mouthed.

“But but… You said he was yours. What– why not?”

“Because he’s not exactly the ideal person in mind to have as a romantic interest,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, is he nice?”

I considered it, chewing on my cheeks.

“Sometimes. Most of the time,” I corrected, wondering if my response could be linked to a case of Stockholm’s Syndrome. Perhaps I should suggest it be renamed Wallachia’s Syndrome. “But he’s in a tireless pursuit to, well, seduce me, for a lack of a better word, so of course he’s nice to me. But is he a nice person? No.”

“In what sense?”

In the sense of murdering people because he was bored, in the sense of enslaving my mentor and giving me no choice whether I want to be like him or not.

“He’s just not a nice person, Mal,” I explained poorly. “Believe me.”

“Okay. But do you like him despite that?”

I drew a big breath, shutting my eyes against the harsh sunlight. A veil of red coated my vision behind my eyelids and I thought of the red in Count Dracula’s eyes. A slight prickling on my neck reminded me of his mouth brushing the skin there before closing over it. The bond liked him, I knew that but I couldn’t explain it to Mallory.

“You know when you drink wine with an empty stomach?” I asked when I opened my eyes. She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “No, white wine is too light. Red wine, specifically. It’s like that being around him.” Mallory didn’t seem to understand, and neither was I making a lot of sense to myself, so I continued. “Everything feels a little numb and a little too hot, like I’m feverish. My lips, the tips of my fingers, my legs. And there’s a queasy feeling on my stomach, that’s not all bad, you know. It’s thrilling and also frightening,” I scoffed. “And I have the most outlandish thoughts when I’m around him. I can see myself doing things I would never do, and have done quite a few of them, actually. It’s bizarre. Like I’m drunk but not really.”

And much like wine, the bond made me do and feel things that weren’t real. Although one could argue that alcohol brought our truest selves to the surface. I shuddered at the thought.

“So you like him?” Mallory questioned, looking uncertain.

“I like how he makes me feel. And I guess I do like him, to an extent. But he scares me, Mal, he really does. And I shouldn’t like him if he scares me.”

“Has he hurt you?” She asked slowly, trying to sound gentle, I guessed, but it came out more like a snarl.

“Not really, no. Not physically. Emotionally, though, a little bit.” Seeing the somber expression on Mal’s face, I waved a hand. “Nothing to worry about, I can take care of myself. That’s beside the point. He frightens me, is all.”

“Maybe it’s not fear of him, Y/N. Maybe that queasy feeling is just fear of letting go. You were always a bit of a control freak when it came to your emotions.”

“I guess that hasn’t changed,” I muttered. “Can I have a sip of that?” I held a hand towards her wine glass.

She pushed it across the table for me. Cold, soothing liquid washed through my tongue and I swallowed it down eagerly. When I returned the glass to Mallory, less than half of it remained.

“Some sip,” she remarked.

“I needed it.”

She bobbed her head in agreement and a strand of baby blond hair escaped from her braid, coming to rest over one of her eyes. She blew it away and it fluttered behind her ear.

Our food arrived and I was glad to have something to concentrate on instead of what I felt or did not feel.

Mallory was kind enough to change the subject as we ate, so we spoke mostly of Sean, her date. They had been seeing each other for only two weeks and she was still determined into finding anything fun about him but so far she was unsuccessful. While Mal was too benign to say it, I knew Sean would be fated into following her around like a puppy until she found someone else to amuse her. Next, we spoke of Evelyn and to my surprise, and secret enjoyment, Mal didn’t seem to favour her anymore that I thought the woman deserved.

“I thought you were friends,” I said as I stole another sip of her wine.

“I thought so, too, but she’s become such a hag lately. I think it’s because she found out I have a higher score of winnings in court than her but that shouldn’t get in the way. I mean, you’ve got us all beat and you don’t see me hassling you. She just can’t admit she’s not the best at everything she does. And she didn’t invite me to be a bridesmaid, can you believe that?!”

“Bitch,” I said as a form of agreement.

“Cheers to that.”

After we finished with our lunch, I ordered a piece of blueberry pie, which I ate with Mallory’s help since I’d been sipping on her wine all throughout our meal.

We said our goodbyes not long after that. Mallory had to rush back to Berkeley, where she was staying with Chelsea and Sarah, because she hoped to be the first one to shower. According to Mal, Chelsea spent an eternity in the bathroom and wouldn’t let up even if she and Sarah almost broke the door down with all their knocking.

I watched as Mallory drove away in her car, almost hoping that we could remain stuck in that afternoon for longer, only so I wouldn’t have to think about the incoming night and the certainty that my heart would break, bond or no bond.

At least now I would have Mal to help me pick up the pieces and mend them back together.

__________________________________________________

Soft, orange clouds streaked the purplish sky in long and haphazard puffs as I waded down the slope leading to Berkeley Castle. It looked more like a fortress than a castle with how it circumvented a courtyard. Small windows decorated the austere exterior built from grey and maroon bricks. The roofs squatted low in true medieval style, with only a few chimneys disrupting the straight lines. Beyond the castle, the sky was already a deep shade of blue, casting a blanket of stars over the property. From where I stood I could see Gloucester Cathedral peaking in the distance, nothing more than a severe silhouette against the remains of daylight.

Count Dracula should be waking up now, or making himself ready for the wedding.

If by some miracle, the Sun didn’t set, he would never leave his hotel, and I wouldn’t have to carry out the plan. Dracula and I could have a little more time; just enough for him to tell me tales of times past and for him to find another impossible place to break into.

Zoe would be terminally mad at me if I skipped the plan on a mere and futile whim. And terminally dead, as well. Sparing myself from guilt shouldn’t be more important than Zoe’s chance at living. And I wasn’t about to throw away the very thing I strove for since I set that deal simply because I was having doubts.

My clutch bag, tiny as it was inside my hand, cast a heavy weight on my shoulder from the pill and the pen filled with Zoe’s blood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I muttered quietly as I carried down the slope, hitching my dress up my ankles so I wouldn’t trip. “Because I’ve paid such care to what’s right over the past years.”

“Y/N!”

I turned my upper body to look behind me, too afraid of losing balance on my heels to fully pivot.

Mallory waved at me from the top of the hill. Even from afar I could tell she looked stunning, all long limbs showcased by a champagne coloured strapless dress. Her blond hair was slicked back tightly to her scalp, a precious stone necklace winked back at me when she motioned for me to wait for her. A shawl from the same colour of her dress was wrapped around her shoulders, twined about her forearms.

Chelsea and Sarah spilled out from a taxi behind Mallory. Chelsea had on a light blue flowy dress that complimented her golden skin nicely and Sarah wore a midnight green gown with a neckline so plunging it was a surprise I couldn’t see her bellybutton. Both of them wore their hair up in chignons. The three of them interlaced their arms for balance as they started down the slope.

We’d met the same fate of descending a slope in high heels, apparently. The line of cars intercepting the road to the castle’s gate was so ridiculously long from all the guests on the way, that I’d thought it would be faster if I abandoned my taxi and went the last couple of metres on foot. Now that sweat slicked my forehead and threatened to smear my makeup, I was regretting that choice.

My high heels dug uncomfortably on the soles of my feet but I endured the pain as I waited for them to reach me. Concentrating on not falling was an easy way to keep my mind off of what was about to come.

“Oh!” Said Chelsea, staring at me with wide eyes, when they were close enough. “From up there your dress looked black.”

“Evie will arrange your murder today, you know that, right?” Sarah told me, her eyes sweeping down on me appraisingly.

“What they mean is that you look amazing,” Mallory said, glaring to her left at both women. They made sounds of agreement.

My dress was constructed in a deep plum from silk taffeta, a lustrous fabric that made it look like it had more than a single shade, so I could understand Chelsea’s assumption. It criss-crossed over my chest and back in twisted straps that appeared black, purple and, in certain lights, violet. The dress’ bodice clung to my torso but fabric cascaded freely from the waist down. When I walked it embraced every curve of my legs as it bounced around me like it was liquid.

True to Diana’s wishes, who wanted me to make Count Dracula faint upon laying eyes on me, I would bet that was something I could probably do without the aid of Zoe’s blood. However, the prospect of knocking him to his knees didn’t seem so appealing when I knew I would never have the opportunity of doing it again.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound pleasant and failing miserably if I was to take their expressions as truth. “So does everybody.”

Mallory pulled me to her side and laced my arm with hers.

“Are you okay?” She whispered to me as all of us continued our journey downhill.

“Yes,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me but I shook my head as a silent request for her not to pry. There were moments that Mallory’s keen perception of my mood was a blessing; this wasn’t one of them.

Locking arms with three other women proved to be a challenge, an extremely fun one, especially when Chelsea lost balance, nearly tumbling down and dragging Mallory with her. Sarah and I were left to hold them up which rendered a few belly-aching laughs from all of us. When we finally got them up on their feet, it was my turn to shift my heel at an odd angle and hold on to Mallory’s shawl for dear life, nearly strangling her. Mallory held onto Chelsea and nearly knocked Sarah off her feet. Although we were all cackling madly at our distress, a few men in tuxedos, more guests, were kind enough to provide us with an arm to balance ourselves until we reached Berkeley Castle’s main gate.

My laughter faded into nothing as I set eyes at the woman standing at the gate. Even in heels she was tiny, her head barely reaching some of the guests shoulders as she waved them in after checking each of their names on a list. Her pixie red hair was spiky at the ends and, as if I needed any more confirmation other than her height and hair, the small crystal piercing on her nostril identified her as Sylvia, the woman tasked to switch on the UV lights down on the garden later. If she knew my face, she made no movement to acknowledge me.

As Chelsea gave her our names, I peeked down the ledge and, sure enough, down a steep fall stood a garden and a rectangular artificial pond, its surface dotted with water lillies and white rose petals. My eyes traveled around, searching between bushes and trees for spotlights suggesting the possibility of UV lights but found none except tiny floor sconces, casting wavy reflections on the water.

“That staircase leads down there,” Sylvia said in a conversational tone; a clever way of letting me know everything was set up as it should. “You can reach it through that path if you want to have a stroll through the property later.”

I looked at the direction where she pointed, taking note of it, and nodded.

“Thank you. I will.”

I followed the girls through the arching gate, too absorbed in trying to level my heartbeat to pay any attention to the somber beauty of the courtyard. However, the Great Hall managed to shake me out of my stoic resignation and I gazed around me with utter admiration.

The room wasn’t particularly large but it was formidable in decor where size lacked. The ceiling hunched high above in curved wood beams, casting the illusion that we were beneath an old ship’s underbelly. Tapestries hung on the farthest wall bordering a fireplace large enough to fit 5 people standing up. Windows receded in alcoves inside the stone walls. A variety of ivory flowers, inky purples and rosés the colour of bitten lips flanked the entire room. Rows of white chairs on each side of the aisle were intertwined with purple ribbons. More flowers spiraled up into some sort of wooden gallery, engraved with several coats of arms in murky colours.

Mallory tugged on my elbow so I would sit next to her and Sean, her date, who looked absolutely smitten by her –  the fool – that he barely paid any attention to my cheery hello.

“Where’s– what’s his name again?” she asked me while I smoothed my dress after sitting down.

“Dracula.” I blew out a breath. “He’ll be here for the reception.”

If I was in a better state of mind I would’ve waved the fact that he was royalty just to see Mallory squeal in joy but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

She was about to ask me something else but music suddenly sparked to life, silencing every person and as one, we all stood up. The music came from above so I turned around briefly, trying to gauge where it came from, and found that a quintet played at the top of that podium.

Evelyn’s soon-to-be husband was not at all what I expected from a woman of her calibre, gorgeous as she was, so I assumed that he had to be extremely wealthy to make up for his mousey face. One would think a bride would be more focused on walking down the aisle and gazing at her beloved but not Evelyn – she found a breach to stab daggers at my dress with her hazel eyes and, finding myself bitter, I flashed her my most goading smile. Her pace vacillated for a moment and I looked around us to see if anyone had noticed but she carried on not a second later, staring ahead of her with vicious determination. The ceremony proceeded after we were all sat and I listened to their vows absentmindedly. I knew what was coming: for poorer or richer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, and at last, till death do us part. Although Evelyn and Rupert – not ashamed to say I only discovered the groom’s name when the minister mentioned it – were doing a lengthy and embellished version of it.

Till death do us part.

“Mal,” I whispered to her as Rupert was declaring his eternal love to Evelyn. Mallory bent her head closer. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“I was always the one with the weird questions so I’d say you’ve got credit to spend,” she whispered back.

“Would you live forever if you could?”

She evaluated me for a long moment.

“What are the conditions?”

The corners of my lips tugged up. Ever the lawyers, the pair of us.

“You would have to leave everything behind. Start another life as a new person but you’ll look the same forever.”

An undead person, I meant to say.

“Yeah, I would,” she said but she answered too quickly for my liking.

“Would you kill for it?” I continued.

She gaped. Careful consideration passed through her green eyes.

“Lots of people would.”

“But would you?”

“I’m terrified of dying, Y/N,” she confided. “Of growing old and forgetting things, forgetting my own name or what something’s called. And if I’m being shallow, I’m terrified of becoming an ugly old lady. I wouldn’t really be myself if it came to that, would I? I like me as I am, now. So yeah, hypothetically speaking, I would kill someone for it. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I mean… I’m not sure. Growing old doesn’t bother me. I just can’t think of abandoning everything that I once was and becoming someone else just so I can live forever.”

“We do it all the time.” She grinned sheepishly. “Remember what the Mad Hatter tells Alice?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re the one obsessed with that damn book and you know I don’t remember.”

“I’ve got a sucky memory but it’s something to the effect of Alice not being the same Alice as before and that she’s lost her muchness. Anyway, we’re constantly changing, little by little, it’s up to us if we become more than before, or less.”

“I don’t think that’s what Lewis Carroll meant by that.”

“Well, that’s how I choose to look at it. So, really, how much more can I become if I live forever? There’s lots and lots of possibilities for little old me and I don't want to die before I meet all of them.”

“So you’d kill someone for that?”

“In a heartbeat.” She nodded. “Do you plan to tell me why you’ve asked me this?”

“Maybe one day if I somehow become immortal?”

“Which is never. Got it. I’ll shut up now.”

Mallory turned and sat up straight, oblivious to the veritable chance of immortality.

Possibilities.

That was one way to look at it. An extremely optimistic and selfish way to look at it but I never claimed to be selfless. Optimistic, however, I was far from. But just as Mallory had said, we were always changing.

How far was I willing to go for change? I liked myself just as I was now and I couldn’t picture myself literally sucking the life out of people so I could have a chance at more.

Which version of me was I talking about? Me, who I’ve always been; safe, calculated, blunt. Or the one who enjoyed playing with fire as much as she did reading books?

The promise of excitement; that’s what Count Dracula said he’d found in my blood. Imagining my life for the next five years evoked no happy feelings. Where would I be? Married with kids, doing the same thing until my body shriveled and I died? A regular husband who carried groceries and did the dishes, and sometimes, when he remembered it, took me somewhere nice. How awfully… pedestrian.

A life clad in dusk, traveling places to see more than an average person could perceive and waltzing inside churches as I laughed in the face of god… That certainly sounded more appealing. And lonely.

Could I live forever with Count Dracula? Would he be all I would have for the rest of time? No Mallory, no Diana, no Renfield. No mum and dad. Just us.

A roar of applause and whooping rescued me from dwelling on that any further. Evelyn and Rupert must have sealed the deal with a kiss to cause all that commotion. I joined the raucous by sticking two fingers on the side of my mouth and whistling loudly enough to make Mallory and her date wince and laugh.

Not long afterwards, the guests were led to another chamber inside the castle, the Long Drawing Room according to the plaque, while the Great Hall was organised for the reception. When we returned, various tables were set elegantly in shades of cream and more flower arrangements in light pink and purple decorated each of them.

Locating the partner table was easy; all I had to do was look for the middle-aged white men with the most disdainful poise. Of all twelve people sitting at their table, only five were women and those were some of the partners’ wives. I made sure to make eye-contact with Evelyn as I dragged Mallory and Sean along with me and flopped down next to Talbot – Evelyn’s mentor. Mallory appeared to be on cloud-nine to be sitting there. As for me, I could barely summon pleasure at the look of utter disbelief and rage in Evelyn’s face.

Hours passed in the company of red wine, champagne and food, while I occasionally cast looks at the archway under the gallery, hoping to see Count Dracula making his entrance. I showered Mallory with compliments when I could so she could get the attention from the big bosses and deviated the subject to her whenever a partner made remarks about my work. At one point, I spotted Raoul, the “waiter” who was in on the plan, and he nodded at me solemnly. Photographers came and blinded us with their camera flash. I was certain that I would be staring in the direction of the archway in all of the photos but at least Renfield would get to see Evelyn’s sullen expression to be in the same picture with me.

A hand pressed my shoulder from behind, fingers squeezing. Swiveling my head, I saw Mallory, eyes wide.

“Hell’s bloody bells.”

That was the closest to a curse Mallory would ever get and I immediately turned my head in the direction she was looking at.

“Fuck,” I sighed. A sigh because my throat wasn’t prepared to produce a sound.

Count Dracula stood under the archway, head tilted back as he took in the surroundings, eyes ever watchful. He donned a longer coat than was usually called for in an average tuxedo, overtop of a white waistcoat and white dress shirt. Wound tightly around his neck, beneath a white bow tie, was a heavy pendant in a thick cord of silk. A wine coloured silk, which went perfectly with my dress.

The outfit did justice to his royal title flawlessly.

I stared for a long moment, willing him silently to look at me and, at the same time, wishing that he didn’t catch sight of me, turned back and left.

“He’s looking for you,” Mallory told me over my shoulder. I simply nodded. “Well, go, silly.”

She took my glass from me and shoo-ed me out of my seat.

Though my knees wobbled as if I was some lady fanning herself over him, my feet were capable enough of moving on their own and I started weaving through tables to reach him. My ears caught Sarah and Chelsea gushing over him from a couple of tables over and I picked up my pace when Sarah suggested to Chelsea that one of them went to greet him. For a moment I was distracted apologising to a waiter for nearly knocking his tray to the floor and when I looked back at Count Dracula, my breath hitched in my chest.

Dark eyes surveyed me from head to toe in what I would’ve called a leer if he were anyone else. My strides grew smaller as my cheeks burnt hot. I was blushing – actually blushing to the colour of a tomato no doubt, as if I was sixteen years old again. I hoped he would meet me halfway and spare my legs from giving out at any moment but he stood there, hands laced behind his back as he waited, openly lusting after me in front of a hundred people. The plan of making him faint was backfiring horribly and my mouth curled into a reluctant smile when I realised that I didn’t give a damn.

When I finally reached him, my hands rose voluntarily, eager to feel the texture of his attire, to measure the expanse of his chest as if my eyes weren’t enough, but, realising what I was about to do, I started lowering them. Dracula caught my hands and placed them on his chest.

“Touch,” he said, a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

And I did.

My hands ran up his shoulders, noting that his lapels were also silk and that the suit fit him impeccably, like he had it tailored. The buttons on his shirt were rubies encrusted in silver, or perhaps white gold. Either way, each of those buttons probably cost a fortune. The pendant vaguely resembled a crusader cross except it flared at the edges. I took it between my fingers to examine the design adorning its center. A dragon stood there, tail coiling and wings unfurling around its body. It looked like the dragon on his ring I’d seen a week ago and, once again, I found an inscription in latin.

“Societas Draconistarum,” I read, poorly. “ Draco – dragon, isn’t it?” Memory jogging, I glanced up at him. A small smile tugged at his mouth, an odd expression of pride on his face. “Is this the emblem of the Order of the Dragon?”

“You did your research well,” he remarked.

“Had to. How often does someone meet a historical figure?” I adjusted the pendant so it laid squarely over his collarbones. “I’m surprised I still remember the name of your secret society, it seems like it was forever ago since I read about it.”

Calling it a secret society was far from the truth; I meant to needle him so he would elaborate on it but when he didn’t, I sent my eyes away from the pendant to focus on his face. I caught him looking down at me over his nose, lips slightly parted to reveal the tip of his tongue tracing his bottom lip. I dared to believe that he hadn’t heard a word of what I’d said, too busy fantasizing about something.

His hands landed on my waist, forcing me closer. They skimmed down, exploring the curves of my hips and squeezing them briefly before moving up again.

“Everyone is watching us,” I told him, grabbing each of his wrists. I couldn’t look past him but I could feel their stares.

“Don’t care,” he said curtly, ignoring my grip. “You touched. It’s only fair I do the same. You are a vision, my darling.”

A lustful fire blazed behind his eyes and I shuddered. I dropped my hands, not minding that people were quite literally gawking at us, and allowed him to continue his investigation.

A hand slid to my back, fingers kneading my flesh gently as he examined the dress, like he was making sure this ‘vision’ of his was real. His other hand drifted up to follow the contours of the bodice, a finger tracing the seam that led up to dress’ cleavage and then its straps crossing over my chest. I gasped as warm fingers brushed my collarbones and led a path up my neck and finally stopped to caress my cheek. His touch became tender as he reached my face, stroking my skin lightly and making me lean towards his hand, like a sunflower seeks the sun.

“I’m tempted to shower you with silk and taffeta gowns so you can wear them for me every night,” he said softly. “And so I’ll have the pleasure of tearing them off.”

“There’ll be no tearing off anything.” My voice trembled. “This is an extremely expensive dress.”

“Ah, I’ll get you how many dresses you want. Don’t worry about this one. And I can be careful, if you wish. Although I want nothing more than to ravish you.” My skin crawled and he smirked as he caressed down the lengths of my arms, making me shiver. “I see. No need to be careful, then.”

“What I meant is–” I cleared my throat “–this dress isn’t coming off for you. In any shape or form.”

“You can keep it on, just as well. It’ll be no trouble.”

If he looked at me for any moment longer, I would do something drastic, such as grabbing him by the hand and taking him somewhere inside the castle where he could make good on all those fantasies.

I swallowed dryly.

“How do you like the castle?” I asked.

Dracula snorted, apparently amused by my attempt to deviate the subject, but he kept his hands on my arms, trailing up and down.

“Nervous again? Pity.” He looked around and I started breathing properly. “I prefer my own castle.”

“You still have a castle?”

“If it has remained untouched in the last century, yes.” Then he frowned. “It’s very likely it has been burnt to the ground now.”

“Why would that be?”

He grinned.

“The locals weren’t very partial to my presence in Wallachia. I imagine they burnt it as soon as they realised I wasn’t coming back.” He shrugged. “Unfortunate, if that’s the case. My library could have rivaled Captain Nemo’s.”

“Oh!” I grinned. It seemed forever ago since I had eyed Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas in my collection and giggled upon taking it from its shelf and shoving it inside my purse. “Did you finish reading it?”

“Just yesterday, actually. Fantastic how Jules Verne predicted most things we have today, and how some of them are already obsolete. I would’ve liked to meet him.”

“So you could’ve drank him?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Thank you for the book, I found it very enjoyable. I’ll read it again in French if I come across an edition, I think various things were lost in translation. Captain Nemo is an interesting character, although a little too morose for me. I suppose he’s your favourite.”

“He is everyone’s favourite. Jules Verne wrote more books on him because of it.”

“I would like to read them. Do you have them in your library?”

“No but Mallory does. She lent me hers when we were in college.”

If he was to spend the next years – or the rest of his existence – caged, then perhaps I could see to it that he got a few books to entertain him. I would have to make a list.

“Ah, yes, the blond coming towards us, isn’t that she?” Count Dracula nodded, eyes fixed behind me.

I pivoted to see Mallory, dragging Sean behind her. I kept my gaze focused on hers to avoid making eye contact with one of the dozens of people staring at me and Count Dracula. We had put on quite a show to have that many sets of eyes on us.

“Y/N,” she began when she reached me. “The bride and groom will have their first dance now. You must’ve missed the announcement.” Her eyebrows jerked up trying to convey something along ‘ you rascal ’ before she looked past me, her doe eyes focusing on Count Dracula. “I’ve heard loads about you. Dracula, isn’t it?”

“Mal…” I complained.

“Did you now?” Count Dracula said, tone all honey as he placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. He rounded me, stopping at my side, and letting one hand drop. “I would say I’m surprised but that would be a lie.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mallory. Y/N speaks greatly of you.”

Until a minute ago, I had never spoken about her to him so I knew he was being courteous, although my blood probably did speak great things of her.

Dracula accepted Mallory’s extended hand and, instead of shaking it, he turned it so he could plant a kiss on top of it. He’d done the same to me when I first met him. Her mouth fell open and Sean’s ears turned red as he pulled Mallory back by her arm. She swatted Sean away.

“He’s not British,” I said, trying to assuage them. “Eastern Europe is quite old-fashioned in some ways.”

“Forgive me,” said Dracula, looking like he wasn’t sorry at all with that smug smile plastered to his face. “I’m afraid I’m still adapting and haven’t managed to shrug off the education in which I was raised.”

“Which education was that?” Sean asked between gritted teeth.

“An aristocrat’s one.” Dracula smiled.

Mallory’s eyes widened until they were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

“Show-off,” I muttered, elbowing the Count lightly.

A group of people were converging around the dance floor and I laced my arm with Count Dracula’s.

“We’ll miss the first dance,” I said, and nudged Mallory with my hip so she would stop gawking. She nodded weakly and went ahead with Sean. “She’ll never shut up about you now,” I muttered to Count Dracula as we followed them.

“Good. From what I gather, Mallory has always been very encouraging of your endeavors. Perhaps she will give you the final push.”

“Towards you?”

“Yes, and I’ll gladly receive you.”

“With open arms and fangs,” I grumbled.

“How tragic,” he shot back, chuckling.

A waltz started as we reached the bundle of people and I saw Evelyn and Rupert entering the dancefloor just before they started swaying to it. The smile on her lips seemed genuine so I supposed that although her husband wasn’t exactly attractive, she did have feelings for him. The bitch had a heart, after all.

The guests clapped furiously when their waltz stopped. Another waltz followed, less upbeat than the previous and what sounded like more strings attacking the melody, and couples looked at each other, waiting to see who would be the first ones to join the bride and groom.

Count Dracula untangled my arm from his and took my hand inside his not a moment later. With all my training from last night, I let him lead me to the dance floor, forgetting all about Evelyn’s scathing stare, and smiling up at him as I set a hand on his shoulder. We started slowly, following the melody as more couples joined us, but when the tune’s pace picked up and Dracula moved to accompany it, I nearly twisted my ankle.

“Did you forget everything I taught you last night?” He provoked.

“No.” I furrowed my brows, offended. “I was wearing boots yesterday. High heels aren’t exactly waltz friendly for a beginner.”

Dracula’s hand on my back moved to fully encircle my body and, in one move, he lifted me and smashed my chest to his. When he set me down, my face was closer to his, closer than I ever was to him when it came to height, and my feet kept moving, although I wasn’t making an effort to. The softness under my heels proved to me that I wasn’t touching the ground and I laughed, realising me that he had set me over his own feet and had continued to dance like my weight was nothing. Guests around us snickered, prompting me to laugh more.

My nose brushed his as my laughter died down and my eyes strained to focus on something in the close proximity. I could feel every inch of his body shaped to mine and that queasy feeling I’d told Mallory about settled in my belly. A mere movement of his feet could sway me forward and brush our mouths together.

My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. It beat madly against my ribs like it was a caged animal. Could Count Dracula feel its thud inside his chest due to our nearness? As if it was his own heart, beating lively for the first time in the last five centuries?

I sighed, pressing my cheek to his. Count Dracula nuzzled closer until I felt his lips grazing my earlobe and sending a wave of arousal down my body.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your shoes?” I said into his ear.

His chest heaved under mine and I wondered if that was him taking a deep breath of my scent.

“Not at all,” he responded. “They are disposable but I shall keep them, if only to admire the dents your high heels will leave on the leather.”

A grin took my mouth, making my cheeks hurt from opening so wide.

“Does your castle look anything like this one?” I asked him, attempting to focus less on how his body felt against mine.

“Mine has more towers and it sits far up on a mountain peak. It’s bigger than this one. Hence it was difficult to keep it to pristine condition, especially because I had no servants after I became what I am today. I frighten people, can you imagine that?” His chuckle tickled my ear. “This one was designed to be pleasing to the eye, I imagine, while serving the purpose of a fortress all the same. My home is nothing but a fortress to keep people out but, most of the time, in . It isn’t pretty.”

I pretended to not hear the part about keeping people in.

“Do you miss it?”

“No. Though, I realised today I was far more attached to that library than I remembered. There are manuscripts there, signed ones, and countless others invaluable books. Forbidden ones by the church, as well. When Renfield recovers, I’ll have him find out if my castle is still standing, and if it is I’ll have my books sent to me.”

“Maybe Captain Nemo would be jealous of your collection. I know I am,” I said. As we spun, Mallory, dancing with Sean, caught my eyes over the Count’s shoulder and grinned like an excited child as she gave me a thumbs up. I winked back at her. “I’ve seen pictures of Romania when I researched you. It’s beautiful. And the weather seems more agreeable than England’s. Why would you move here?”

“The Industrial Revolution,” he answered, shrugging as he continued our dance. His dance, to be fair. I was simply taking a ride. “England was far ahead than any other place in the world and Romania with all its superstition fell behind, always more of the same in centuries. And I wanted to see new things developing instead of just hearing about them. So I came, and missed most of them because of Agatha.” He sighed. “Unfortunate in some ways but for the best in others.” He dug his fingers on my waist to let me know what he meant.

Dracula danced with me in silence from then on. We danced until everyone was on the dance floor with us and the waltzes had been substituted by song ballads. I had my forehead resting in the crook of his neck as I breathed evenly, though my heart still seemed somewhat reluctant to beat at a normal pace.

“Y/N,” he called and I hummed in response. “Tell me what you were going to recite last night.”

I opened my mouth to recite it, and then snapped it shut. I started sliding my hand from his, freeing myself of his hold, but he clasped it and fully laced his arm around my back like he was a snake coiling around its prey.

“I can’t,” I mumbled. I remained still, head tucked on his neck as I stared at the dragon pendant.

“Why?”

“Because it’s true, and it’s one of my secrets. You don’t need to know it.”

“But I want to know it. Your every secret, your truth, I want everything. And yesterday you told me you’d tell me.”

“I lied.” I rose my head to look at him. His black eyes, unwavering in its intensity, lured me in like a raging sea. I could have drowned in them. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“No, I couldn’t.” He furrowed his brows for a second and then smiled. “I don’t know whether to be proud that you’ve learned how to lie to me or be annoyed about it. Deciphering you will be an even greater challenge from now on.”

“Good.”

Baudelaire’s words revolved in my head repeatedly. Like a song lyric, one without rhythm but all of its meaning.

‘What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?’

I needed that second. As a reminder of what I was throwing away.

I glanced at Dracula’s lips and tilted my head closer. He blinked, comprehension passing his eyes as my mouth neared his. He stopped dancing and became very still, as if he was afraid to scare me away by a brusque movement. My nose bumped into his. My eyes were wide, half scared about what I was doing, half scared of missing the look on his eyes. I stood on my tiptoes, further ruining his shoes, and captured his lips with mine.

I stopped breathing and finally closed my eyes, too caught up in the feel of him to have them open. And then he freed my hand which he had been holding captive to trap me with both of his arms as he parted his mouth. In the past, his lips had been always cold when we kissed, and now, the feel of his warm tongue on mine, demanding and hungry, was what made me shudder. Unrestrained need to feel more of him, anything, just more and more, made me deepen the kiss and delve my fingers into his hair. He established a slow pace but I still struggled to gasp for air in between our short, nearly nonexistent pauses.

I heard a faint chattering that sounded suspiciously of admonishment but I didn’t care. I was doing something stupid but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, whether it was for my sake or for the sake of someone else’s reprisals. And I wanted to give Count Dracula this, the one thing he shouldn’t have before he went away.

When he tried to pull away to give me room to breathe, I simply grabbed his face and crushed my lips to his again. He moaned low on his throat and an ache started between my legs, rising up towards my breasts and I suddenly felt like my dress was restraining me. His hands roved my back, seeking to touch more of me as I did with him, but it wasn’t enough and I soon found myself cursing the fact that there were people watching us.

I don’t think I would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for Count Dracula grabbing the nape of my neck and tearing me away from him.

“No–” I started to protest but caught hold of myself when he, very slowly, started dancing again. And when he did, I felt a distinct stiffness pressing against my stomach. My mouth fell open for a brief second and the look on his eyes was enough to make me hide my face on the curve of his neck. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. ” He chuckled in my ear, and I shuddered as the throbbing between my legs intensified.

“You should’ve stopped me earlier,” I muttered.

“And miss your face when you realised what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, trying to conceal a snicker. “Not on purpose.”

He just laughed.

I shut my eyes, doing my best to memorise the sound.

When Count Dracula stopped dancing at the end of the song, and nothing else stood between us, I slowly disentangled myself from him. The front of my body felt oddly cold and bare now that I stood apart from him and I had to swipe a hand down my dress to make sure it was still there. I glanced at him and snorted upon noticing that his lips were swollen.

“You have lipstick all over,” I said, smiling like an idiot. He bent his head closer as I cleaned the corners of his mouth with my thumb. Grabbing my jaw gently, he did the same with me, his fingers brushing my numb lips and leaving a tingly sensation where he touched. “Better?” I asked, dropping my hand when I was done.

He nodded and started leaning his head forward. Feeling suddenly modest as if I hadn’t just rubbed myself against him as two hundred people watched, I turned my head to the side and his lips touched my cheek .

“Y/N, look at me.” I did and I almost wished I didn’t. Tenderness was a peculiar thing to find in the eyes of a murderer but I found it. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes.” I nodded lightly. “Sort of.”

I could say it because it wouldn’t last long.

The crease between Dracula’s eyebrows told me he was considering my answer but if he wanted to question me about what ‘sort of’ meant, he saved it for later.

I slid from his grasp until I clasped his hand.

“I need to visit the ladies’ room. I’ll only take a minute. Why don’t I introduce you to some people so you’ll have company until I come back?”

He acquiesced.

Ignoring every judgmental look I received, I weaved my way between tables until I caught sight of Mallory’s blond head sitting at the partner’s table. If anyone at that table had witnessed us at the dance floor, nobody let it show on their faces as Count Dracula shook hands with them. I doubted anyone would have said anything either, since he towered over the entire group with a slight curl of his lips that simply dared anyone to ask. It was like a wolf making nice with the deer right before it ate it.

“Mal,” I leaned close to her so only she could hear me. “Come with me to the ladies?”

“Sure.” She set down her glass of champagne on the table and picked up our purses.

My purse felt very heavy on my hands and I was already dreading opening it. I slanted a look at Count Dracula to see that he was already sitting down and in deep conversation with Talbot about life in England.

As if I needed another reminder, Raoul came by at that moment, his white suit clinging to every muscle on his arm and making me wonder what was his true occupation. With swollen muscles like that, I doubted he was a doctor like Zoe.

“Miss, would you like a drink? If you’re not satisfied with your wine, I can prepare a cocktail, if you wish.”

I almost said ‘Manhattan’ right there but my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Maybe later,” I told him, and he left.

Turning to Count Dracula, I bent so I could level my mouth with his ear, and as I did so his nostrils flared, the oddest look crossing his face.

“Try not to bite anyone in the meanwhile.” I whispered, forcing myself to sound normal instead of rueful. “I’ll be right back.”

When I drew back, his face was impassive and he merely nodded at me before flashing a beguiling smile at Talbot as they resumed their conversation.

.

.

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Taglist: @festering-queen​ @rheabalaur​ @girlonfireice​ @feralstare​ @deborahlazaroff​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @apocalypsenowish​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @dreamer2381​ @saint-hardy​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​

[edwinmuch]

overachiever ✧ {zion}

summary: in which straight A student riley takes a break from her procrastinating to help pretty boy zion with more than just his homework

author’s note: @softhottie‘s submission for @temperaryheart‘s 700 follower challenge! literally posting on the last day but better late than never, right? (haven’t written for leisure in a while so fair warning)

prompt: prettymuch lyric (bolded)

warnings: mention of drugs, smut (oral, daddy kink, overstimulation, edging)

word count: 3.5k

No on-campus college experience is complete without the following things: sleepless coffee-driven nights, at least one blackout drunk party experience, and a casual hookup or two. Third year Sociology major Zion could definitely say he’s checked off all of the above (several times, he might add). He was especially well-versed in the collegiate sport of hooking up. In fact, he would probably be considered something of an MVP. He’s had his fair share of players in his game. But like with any sport, it takes strategy. There was a secret artform to finding the most opportune times for intimacy when in college. Shared rooms and thin walls don’t exactly allow for privacy, especially when the room in question is shared with a nosy Italian business major named Nick.

This is why Zion decided to make every second count when he discovered his best friend and roommate Nick would be out of their dorm room for a few hours. According to Nick, his abnormal psychology midterm was “going to be the death of him.” It was his last exam before finals week, and he knew he couldn’t afford to fail so he announced that he would be spending that entire Thursday evening in the library studying for it. Zion tried to hide his excitement at his friend’s departure.

“Damn bro, that sucks. Happy studying though,” he managed to utter on Nick’s way out, feigning concern.

When the door finally shut, it took him all of 30 seconds to dial up his favorite girl as of late: Riley Williams, this fiery Women’s and Gender Studies major who resided in his building on the floor above his. They had met in his 10AM sociology class about two and a half months ago. She was hard not to notice when her hand shot up for almost every question, portraying herself as someone who obviously reads over the required text after class. But unlike others, Zion actually paid more attention to her cute tendency to absentmindedly let her pen linger between her glossy lips when she found herself concentrating deeply and her seemingly never-ending collection of flattering outfits. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way her curves looked in one of her cropped cardigan and plaid mini skirt ensembles or the hypnotizing glint of her signature “B-A-B-Y” silver link necklace that adorned her collarbones so well. Despite her engagement in class and endearing mannerisms, she still came off as standoffish, working alone during paired in-class assignments and rolling her eyes at less than intelligent answers from other students in response to the professor’s questions. But, after the fourth lecture of her sitting in her unassigned assigned seat next to his, he decided to take a chance and strike up a conversation, relieved to be met with her dimpled, wide tooth smile; the rest was history.

He doesn’t really know how their current arrangement really came to be. It started off as occasional study sessions in Zion’s room since she obviously knew her material. Then, it had quickly become invitations to binge-watch Bojack Horseman, a show Riley prided herself on introducing to him, or to share a blunt with him and Nick at the end of a particularly stressful school week. But eventually, a few lines had blurred when an innocent smoke sesh (sans Nick) had a salacious end involving her on all fours and her clothes long discarded on his bedroom floor. With this new dynamic between them, he’s made a habit of calling or texting her when late night thoughts of her became too enticing to resist. He hadn’t been hitting her line lately though, the stress of studying for exams and completing assignments keeping them apart. But with midterm season coming to a close and Nick finally being out of his hair, the eager boy was aching to finally invite his favorite girl over once again.

“Hey Z. What’s up?” Riley answered on the second ring, the mellifluous sound of her voice already getting him worked up.

“Hey beautiful. So, Nick is out of the room for tonight,” Zion boasted, the smirk on his face apparent even through the phone.

She waited for him to continue, thinking there was more, but he never did.

“…Okay, and? What’s that gotta do with me? Why should I drop everything to help you get a nut? I’m in the middle of writing a paper, you know,” she replied as she flicked through Netflix titles. He didn’t need to know that her “paper writing” actually equated to television streaming. Her point still stands.

“Babyyy come on, stop playin’,” he whined, “You know, I’m never selfish. Besides, the post-nut clarity of an orgasm or two will help you focus on your paper. Just gimme an hour, please?”

“Ugh I don’t know.” Although the specificities of their current relationship (or situationship, rather) had never been fully discussed, Riley must admit his sweet delivery of “baby” really made her insides scramble. At this point, she was ready to be laid up in Zion’s bed (preferably under him), especially since she wasn’t actually doing anything productive anyway, but she was also ready to hear him beg for it.

“Please baby, it’s been weeks since I’ve had you to myself. I’ll make it worth your while. Nick’s probably gonna be gone most of the night too so when you show up, m’gonna put this time to use,” the insatiable boy persuaded, the seductive rasp of his voice prominent in his last few words.

“Welllll, when you put it like that,” she began, smiling to herself as she was almost able to hear Zion’s excitement through the phone, “I’ll be there in 20.”

~~~

Riley stepped off the elevator and trodded down the RA-decorated hallway in her pink fuzzy slides to Zion’s dorm room door where she placed a soft knock. She barely had time to collect herself before the door swung open revealing a shirtless Zion leaning against the doorframe, his platinum-dyed dreads braided back into two cornrows and his dark gray cotton sweatpants hanging low enough to reveal almost the entirety of his happy trail. He wasted no time pulling her into the room. She couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face at her observation of the atmosphere Zion had created for her. His Himalayan salt lamp lit the room up in a sensuous coral hue while Next Town Down’s Lovers Theme (Interlude) played in the background.

“Next Town Down, huh?” she teased with a quirk of her lips, knowing she put him on to the musical group.

Zion smiled down at her with a set of dimples to match her own. “Yeah I know you like them. Thought it might help put you in the mood,” he shrugged smugly with his devilish smile still present on his face.

“Oh please! I know you bump them when I’m not around,” she giggled, poking him in his chest as she made her point.

“Yeah whatever,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips. He slowly backed them up towards his plush loveseat in the corner of the room. Once the back of his calves touched the suede material of the couch, he plopped onto the cushion. Riley followed suit, climbing onto his lap with her knees digging into the cushion on either side of him and her freshly manicured hands finding their way wrapped behind his head.

Zion made sure the dainty girl was comfortable in his lap before his large hands snaked up her luscious thighs, rubbing her up and down before finding their place on her derrière with a squeeze.

“Mmm I missed you baby.”

“Oh really? How much?” she whispered in his ear, sending chills up his spine.

“Don’t worry, imma show you.” And with that, he started his determined campaign on her neck, kissing up the area of exposed flesh even going as far as to flick his tongue out as he reached her jawline. She pulled away for a moment to slip her cropped sweatshirt over her head, fluffing out the resultant curls of her day old twist out once it passed over her head. She was left with nothing covering her upper half as she had made the deliberate decision not to wear bra to come over.

She couldn’t contain the soft moans and content sighs that escaped her lips. As he sponged wet kisses to the sensitive spot under her earlobe and his nimble fingers worked her hardening nipples, she instinctively ground her hips into his for some added friction between them.

“Need these off you too ma,” Zion whispered, snapping the waistband of her sweat shorts. And with no hesitation she complied, getting up briefly to slide them down her supple legs. She silently thanked herself for her lingerie selection; the pink and navy blue lace of her panties graciously highlighted the warm bronze undertones of her golden brown skin as well as the generous curve of her ass.

She sunk back down onto his lap, hands carefully placed on his shoulders as she returned to grinding against Zion’s ever hardening member with a little more fervor. Before the boy could utter another word, Riley pressed her lips against his in a feverish kiss.

Zion reciprocated with the same amount of enthusiasm, accepting every sloppy collision of their tongues and sensuous bite of his bottom lip with a gratified squeeze of her thigh with one hand and a rub of her lower back with the other. She quickly began her descent down his neck. Nipping, licking, sucking from his jawline to his collarbone.

A lazy smile crept upon Zion’s face as a chuckle passed his lips. “For someone who ain’t even wanna come over here, you sure are eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” she smiled against his skin, “Listen, you promised me ‘an orgasm or two’ and I intend on getting it.”

“And I’m a man of my word baby girl.” And with that challenge, Zion hooked his strong hands under Riley’s thick thighs and hoisted her from the couch, allowing her to lock her legs around his torso. Without pulling their lips away from each other, Zion walked them to his extra large twin sized bed.

He lowered her onto the bed so that her legs dangled off the end. He slinked between her legs before dropping to his knees in front of her. Riley rose off the bed slightly to lean back on her elbows; she watched as he ran his soft hands up her awaiting thighs, never losing eye contact as he did so. His nimble fingers stopped at the elastic waistband of her panties. He smirked as he mentally took note of the ever-growing wet spot in its crotch area before deftly slipping the cloth barrier down her legs and onto the carpeted floor.

“Mmm so wet for me baby,” he wasted no time hooking her legs onto his shoulders.

“Just for you,” she breathed out as a shuddered moan while Zion left lingering kisses up her inner thigh until he reached her throbbing center. He hovered there for a bit, blowing lightly against her folds. She hissed at the sudden cold air hitting her soaking cunt.

“God Zion, do something,” she whined, absentmindedly pushing his head further toward the area she needed him most.

Her wish was his command as he kissed and sucked on her folds before dipping his tongue in between them to lick a stripe at her opening. He took this time to admire her and take note of how cute she looked laying there with her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. That’s when his eager tongue found her sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking figure eights into it before sucking.

“Ahh feels so good,” Riley moaned in a whisper, grabbing at his blond locs as he lapped at her bud. Her hips began instinctively lifting slightly off the mattress as she was nearing her peak. Zion’s large hands took hold of them to anchor her and continue his gluttonous feast.

It wasn’t long before she was met with the all too familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach as she gushed into Zion’s awaiting mouth. Her eyes screwed shut and her mouth fell open allowing a loud stream of obscenities to flow from it.

Once her thighs stopped trembling, Zion released their hold from around his neck and rose from his place on his knees. Riley backed up toward the headboard so her entire body could spread across the bed and she could watch Zion’s every move. In two swift motions, Zion’s sweats were removed from his body to reveal that he was wearing nothing else underneath. He crawled on top of her and placed a wet, needy kiss to her lips. He licked into her mouth sloppily, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.  

“What next baby?” he uttered breathily between messy kisses. She placed her hand on his chest to signal for him to pull away for a moment. He complied looking down at her flushed face and swollen lips.

“Can I sit on it?” she said softly in the most innocent tone possible. The sight of her plump lips pulled into a pout and her doe eyes peering up at him through her cascading lashes were enough to make his dick twitch.

“Course baby,” he punctuated his confirmation with a kiss to her lips before climbing off of her and landing on his back. He laid comfortably against his pillow, waiting for her to make her next move.

Riley sat up and swung her leg over his body. She hovered over his length before Zion helped her sink down onto it. She winced at the initial stretch but released a satisfied sigh once she finally bottomed out.

After taking a moment to adjust to his size, she began to rock her hips back and forth. Once she found her rhythm, Zion got comfortable, hands clasped behind his head watching her titties bounce as she moved above him. She placed her palms on his chest to steady herself and give herself more leverage to bounce on him more quickly.

“Fuck Daddy, you feel so good,” she drawled out with each swivel of her hips. She praised herself internally at the coy slip of the pet name, knowing how much it riled him up during their last rendezvous. As she expected, the sweet phrase flicked a switch for the boy whose large hands found themselves grabbing at her sides hungrily. It was always a surprise to him when she was vulgar during sex as she was usually prim and proper in any other scenario, but his surprise was most certainly not a complaint.

“Say that shit again,” he growled, beginning to thrust up into her.

“You f-feel so good insi-ide me, Daddy,” she moaned, falling forward in response to a particularly forceful slap to her ass. Zion took this opportunity to capture one of her breasts in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around her erect little bud.

Riley began to fall apart above him, the sinful sound of their skin slapping against each other and the full feeling of him thrusting into her so deeply were taking their toll on her. She could barely form a coherent sentence through her incessant whimpers.

“So cl- close,” she stuttered, digging her nails into his shoulders as she prepared herself for a second orgasm, the buildup much more intense than the last. She loudly cried out a chant of “Yes daddy”s, uncontrollably clenching around him while he continued to rail into her from below. She rode out her high, the longest she’d had in a while. Before long, she fell forward onto her lover’s chest in exhaustion with a drawn-out exaggerated sigh.

Just as she was ready to roll off of him and call it a night, Zion reached up and grabbed her by the throat, whispering in her ear, “You ready for number 3 baby?”

Her eyes widened as she weakly replied, catching her breath, “You said one or two. I already came twice.”

With a mischievous smirk, Zion eyed her naked body with the same hunger he had when she first walked through the door. “Yeah well I also said I’d make it worth your while. What can I say? I’m an overachiever,” he chuckled darkly, easing her off of his length. She winced at the newfound emptiness.

“All fours for me baby,” he rasped, sitting up and allowing her to spread out on her hands and knees in front of him.

“Yes daddy,” she did as she was told. Her glistening core and the remarkable roundedness of her rump on full display. He palmed a large handful of her ass, earning a sharp inhale from her.

“So good for me baby,” Zion whispered, palming more of her flesh into his hand before winding it back for another good slap across her right buttcheek. She moaned loudly in response, falling forward on her elbows from the impact.

He lined himself up, teasing her entrance. The tickle of his squishy head rubbing against her opening was becoming unbearable as she was aching to be filled up for a second time. At the sound of Riley whimpering with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Zion pushed into her slowly, egged on by her surprised gasp. Just as he was about to fill her to her hilt, he took a moment to admire how he seemed to fit inside her so perfectly, almost as if he was the sword to her sheath.

He started off slow to allow Riley to adjust and to ensure that he didn’t bust immediately. He’d been holding off from his release to make sure his girl had gotten multiple. So, needless to say, he was at risk of busting very soon.

His slow thrusts eventually stilled to a complete halt. Before she could open her mouth to complain, his hand came down to spank her bottom once again. He kneaded the area he just slapped as he grumbled to her, “Throw that shit back for me, mama.” And without skipping a beat, Riley began to rock herself back and forth, allowing her ass to crash against him continuously. The sound of her cheeks clapping against his front and her strangled moans at the feeling of getting herself off on him was like music to his ears.  

“Who’s making you feel this good baby?” Zion questioned with yet another smack to her rear.

“You daddy, only you,” she drawled on, speeding up slightly out of an eagerness to please him.

He was so blown away by her ability to take him so well. But he was not surprised when her movements eventually lost their rhythm, knowing she was probably close to her peak. So in an attempt to regain control, he roughly locked his hands at her hips before ramming into her at a relentless pace.

“Oh my god Zion!” she shouted, leaving her mouth hanging wide open. Her strained cries became louder with every snap of his hips.

If this assault on her insides wasn’t enough, not only did Zion dig his knees further into the sheets, allowing himself to lean back and pound into her at a deliciously pleasurable new angle, but he also skimmed his fingers down her front to ferociously rub circles into her pearl. The sensation was almost too much to bear, especially considering the two orgasms she already had under her belt. Her eyes flew shut as she hit her forearm against the bed repeatedly in a motion that most wrestlers would recognize as a “tap out.”

“Ah fuck, m’not gonna last daddy!” she screamed, legs beginning to quiver.

“Me either baby,” he grunted shortly before she pulsed around him so deliciously, milking him for every hot spurt he had in him.

They languidly rode out their climaxes together until Zion gently pulled out of Riley allowing them both to lay back against his satin pillowcases. She clung to his side nuzzling her face into his chest, appreciative of the post-orgasm high he provided her.

“Okay, ‘Mr. Overachiever’,” Riley sighed, still a bit out of breath as she looked up at him with her bright eyes and lazy smile.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” he hummed, smacking an obnoxious smooch to her cheek, “Where’s your phone? I’m changing my name in your contacts to that right now.”

He eyed her brightly colored, flower pressed phone case from across the room and attempted to climb off the bed to retrieve the girl’s smartphone from the couch where, until that moment, it had been forgotten.

“No, stoppp,” she giggled, slinging her leg across his torso and pushing his shoulders into the mattress before he could even make a move. He playfully grabbed at her waist, tickling her sides to try to overpower her. She squirmed under his grasp.

“Nah, I’m changing that shit. Maybe people will see it and think I’m tutoring you for once. Whatchu think?” he joked, his hearty laugh combining with her pleading giggles.

Their tickle fight continued until it devolved into a soft, comfortably silent cuddle between them, thoughts of paper deadlines or interfering roommates being long forgotten, and Zion wouldn’t have it any other way.

[spookyceph]

I posted all my ShigaDabi Week entries on Ao3, so now it's time to catch up here.

Day 4 | Trust

Summary: Tomura and the League arrive at Deika City to face Re-Destro. But first, Dabi has some explaining to do.

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Swearing, mild blood

Burn a Bridge, Build a Raft

“This is the place, huh? Not too big, not too small.”

Tomura knew he should look down the hill and see whether Spinner’s assessment of Deika City measured up. After all, it had been his decision to come here, both to rescue Giran and end the stalemate with Gigantomachia. If the others wound up dead, crushed by Sensei’s still-loyal servant or picked off by these Meta Liberation Losers, it would be because they’d followed him.

Well. Except for one.

“Man…why did I get dragged into this?” Wincing, Dabi clasped a hand to the back of his neck.

Though Tomura hadn’t seen him since he’d fucked off to test high-end nomus almost two months—two shittygruelingmiserablegoddamnedlonely months—ago he noticed something was amiss immediately. Details no one else would pick up on because, frankly, no one else had been waiting six weeks to receive word—just one little I’m alive, or sorry, or didn’t mean to abandon you lol—from the stapled sack of shit. Details like how flushed his unscarred skin looked. The amount of dust clinging to his coat. How his balance wavered, one boot almost tangling with the other, as he barely sidestepped Twice’s measuring tape while being hollered at for his callous attitude toward Giran’s plight. The fact he’d upset Jin to begin with proved the whole situation had gone sideways.

No one else noticed. But no one else knew Dabi like he did.

“Stop.” Tomura’s voice cracked through the air like a rifle shot. Everybody froze, gazes leaping to him. Everybody but one.

“Compress,” he continued, losing some of his volume but none of his command.

The magician snapped to attention, hastily securing his mask back over his face. “Er, yes?”

Not taking his eyes from Dabi, Tomura held out one hand. “Water.”

“Ah! Oh. Of course.” Compress didn’t even attempt to hide the relief in his voice at being off the hook. Taking a marble from one of his coat’s many pockets, he converted it back into their canteen and passed it over.

With his empty hand, he pointed to Dabi, then over at the line of trees marking the forest border. “You. Go sit.”

“Oooo,” crowed Toga. “Someone’s in trouble…”

Dabi blinked, switching a bewildered stare between her and Tomura’s finger. Some sense of meaning must’ve sunk in because, eventually, a dent appeared in the middle of his eyebrows and he plodded his way toward the spot indicated.

No one dared utter a word when Tomura stalked after him.

Dabi halted at the first tree he came to, gawking up at it like he’d never seen such a thing before. He didn’t even register Tomura holding a hand up near his cheek. Scalding heat rolled off scarred and unmarked skin alike, as suspected.

“Goddamn it, you’re burning up. Take your coat off.”

Again, like a deer in headlights. The already brilliant blue of Dabi’s eyes shone brighter still—practically incandescent. Feverish. Unfocused. Resisting the urge to just Decay the damn thing right off him, Tomura pushed the heavy garment from his wayward partner’s shoulders and helped him shrug free of it. His fingers showed blister-red after handling the leather; no doubt touching any of the metal reinforcing the sleeves would’ve earned a first- or even second-degree burn. He dropped the coat to the leaf-littered ground.

“Sit.”

This command proved easier to grasp. With no hint of his usual poise, Dabi plopped down, crumpling against the tree’s trunk. Tomura knelt beside him and held out the canteen.

“Drink.”

Slowly, as if afraid the container might bite, Dabi lifted it to his lips and sipped. Instinct took over at that point. Eyes going wide, then squeezing shut, he tilted his head back and guzzled the rest. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath. When he reopened his eyes, clarity and personality had returned, if with weariness tagging along behind.

“Hey, mophead.”

Two words, spoken in that familiar, quiet, and currently cracked voice, nearly accomplished what a month and a half of constant fighting and sleep deprivation hadn’t. Tomura didn’t break, though. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t make a sound. He didn’t reduce the tree to splinters by smashing Dabi’s skull through it. He didn’t Decay the sheepish smile off his (stupid handsome fuckinghatehimsomuch) face. Neither did he give in to the impulse to collapse into the scarred arms that would’ve caught him and never let go. He couldn’t afford to. Every iota of rage and pain and razor-edged glee needed to be reserved for whatever Re-Destro had waiting for them at the bottom of the hill. To expend any of it now could cost him or the rest of the League their lives. So, Tomura corralled his stampeding emotions with a temporary fence of practicality.

“Can you fight?” His tone came out blander than stale bread.

Dabi’s smile dwindled. He scanned Tomura’s face for any sign that his presence meant more than an extra pair of boots on the ground. Catching none, he took a long inhale and settled into tight-lipped resignation.

“Yeah. Got a little piss and vinegar left in me. What’re we up against?”

“An army of deluded morons. The usual. We’ll need to keep them distracted for about an hour and a half.”

“What happens after the clock runs down?”

“Gigantomachia shows up and proves their philosophy is a pile of shit like everyone else’s.”

That dropped Dabi’s jaw. “You’re still fighting that thing?”

“What’d you think we were doing out in the middle of nowhere? Meditating and earning merit?” Tomura snapped before cursing himself. The sneaky bastard had always had a knack for poking his emotional pressure points—for getting him to do exactly what he swore he wouldn’t. Collecting himself, he wiped his expression clean again.

“Are you going to be any use here or do you need to sit this out?”

Blue eyes searched for cracks in Tomura’s resolve. As perverse luck would have it, he noticed the tracks of rusty red smeared down Dabi’s cheeks at that moment. They’d seeped like tears from the drooping scars that made up his lower lids. More crusted the staples in his chin and near the hinges of his jaw. Tomura’s stomach writhed like a dying animal. What the fuck had Ujiko been making him do? Had he been testing the nomu by fighting the damn things?

As if reading his thoughts, Dabi touched the bloody streaks. “Whatever you need me to do, consider it done.” A pause. No—a hesitation. “I just have a couple of things to say first. If you, uh, want to hear them.”

This asshole…Tomura had to curl his hands into fists to keep from clawing at his neck. Telling him to shove it sideways with no lube would be satisfying in the present, but Tomura knew, just like Dabi did—just like he’d counted on—the mystery would turn into a distraction he couldn’t allow. Worse, if one of them survived this battle and the other didn’t…He yanked his focus back before his imagination could drag it down into that abyss. The exasperation in his sigh didn’t need to be exaggerated.

“Fine. Out with it.” He wouldn’t go away with any regrets—let Dabi carry them all if he wanted.

“Okay. First item is my family name. It’s Todoroki.”

Every calculated reaction he had lined up imploded, leaving Tomura’s mind a void.

A grim little smile spread across Dabi’s face. “You didn’t know. I’m surprised.”

Tomura shook his head to get the gears turning again. “I…suspected. After you told me your given name. Especially watching how you acted after All Might retired.” Endeavor’s rise to the number one spot on the hero rankings and Dabi’s new habit of leaving the charred corpses of low-level villains littered around the city had started too close to each other to be coincidence. A powerful fire quirk…blue eyes in the family…an older son who vanished from the news feeds abruptly…no, it hadn’t been difficult to fit the pieces together at all once he’d realized they were there in the first place.

“Why tell me this?” Tomura asked, tone teetering between genuinely curious and accusatory. “Why now?”

That smile still pulling on the seams in his skin, Dabi stared down at his hands resting in his lap. “Just wanted you to know why I really stayed behind with Ujiko, I guess. When I saw I’d be useless against that giant, I figured it’d be an opportunity to handle my personal shit. I could look for a way to take out Endeavor without being a burden on you and the others. Go figure, I failed big time.

“Oh, sure, me and dear old Dad went toe to toe when I took the first high-end nomu out for a test run, like I said I would. But then that wannabe recruit I was looking into kind of fucked me over. And then Miruko showed up. And I was out there all alone, with no one to back me up, just how I’d wanted it.” A strangled laugh hiccoughed out of him. “So, Ujiko had to bail me out in the end. I completely overheated during the fight. My brain was so fried I even forgot the damn high-end on the field. If you hadn’t had the doc send me out here, he probably would’ve chopped me up and fed me to the rest of his pet projects. Anyway…I told you all that to tell you this.”

Dabi drew a long, shuddering breath and looked up square at Tomura. “I was wrong. I should’ve trusted you. The others too. I should’ve trusted that you would’ve helped me if I’d asked. That you’d want to. I’m sorry. I’m a reckless dick. And I didn’t leave because of you.” Closing his eyes, he let his head thump back against the tree and swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to cash in my chips with you maybe thinking that was the case.”

Verbally eviscerating him for the sheer volume of his idiocy—take down Endeavor alone, didn’t want to be a burden, overheated to the point of collapse—should have been Tomura’s first instinct. However, it found itself blocked off before it even arose by one confession that kept echoing in his head.

I didn’t leave because of you.

The volatile energy buzzing in Tomura’s bones settled and faded out. Rather than leaving him depleted, it gave way for a new source of strength to rush in and replace it. One that set something in him right, like a dislocated joint popped back into place. The spot was still sore, still tender, but once aligned it made him whole and clear and sure the fight waiting for him was already his.

Reaching out with ring and pinky safely tucked against his palm, Tomura gripped Dabi by the chin. Those remarkable eyes fluttered open, startled but fixed solidly on him.

“It’d be easy for you then, wouldn’t it?” Tomura’s voice came out low and vicious, his dirty, broken nails digging into leathery scar tissue. “To just die here and not have to back up any of the shit you said? But you’re not going to get that luxury. I won’t allow it. You’re going to live just so I can have the pleasure of watching you beg and plead and grovel to earn my trust again. Understand?”

The tiny shiver that ran through Dabi, and the flicker of tongue over his bottom lip spawned a new reason to live that tied with Grind Re-Destro into the dirt for first. Patchwork hands landed on his forearm, petting and tickling. The smug bastard even dared to smile. “Perfectly, boss.”

“Good.” And then, because he was dangerously close to kissing him, or stripping him naked with his teeth, or something else otherwise unbecoming of the next King of Villainy, Tomura stood and added, “You look like hammered crap, by the way.” The hand that had clutched Dabi’s chin switched to offering him help up.

The smile sprawled into a crooked grin as the gesture was accepted. Dabi picked a bit of dead leaf from the hopeless mess of Tomura’s hair before tucking the locks behind his ear. “And you’re beautiful, as always.”

He snorted and tried to sneer. Really, he did. “Lying sack of shit.”

Any further attempts at flirting were cut short by an exclamation from Toga.

“Someone’s coming!”

After a final squeeze, Tomura let go of Dabi’s hand. For the first time in too long, they went to meet whatever came their way gladly, head-on, and, more important, together.

[thegreenfairy13]

No Country For Heroes - Part 2

Last week @justsimplymeagain gave me the prompt ‘beg’ and I wrote a one-shot. I am sorry to announce that I decided to turn this one-shot into a full story. You can find the previous chapter here on Ao3.

I raised the rating to an M for the subject matter and following chapters. 

Summary: when Gotham is cut off from the mainland, the GCPD decides to turn Jim in in exchange for the Penguins protection.

It’s fitting, in a way. They dragged him in half-dead, they are keeping him half-alive now. 

Jim isn’t sure how long he has been there. He only knows his entire body is burning up while his teeth won’t start clattering. The blanket they gave him is not big enough to cover him entirely. Not that it would do anything anyway to keep him warm, sweat-sodden as it is. 

Now and then, a doctor comes. At least Jim believes he’s a doctor. He can’t even tell if it’s night or day when he arrives, for the room he’s being kept in has no windows. It’s a small cell - only big enough for a single bed, a toilet, and a sink. 

The medic arrives and tends to Jim’s wound. By this point, the detective barely whimpers when he carves out the puss with a sharp scoop. He tells Jim he’s sorry and that they ran out of antibiotics. Jim takes a good look at his face, notes the eerie smile, and doesn’t believe him for a single second. He looks somehow familiar but before he can figure out who it might be, he passes out.

Small blessings. 

When he wakes up, Jim thinks he can hear Harvey’s voice and Cobblepot. “Now you’ve seen him,” the Penguin snarls, clearly exasperated. “It’s not due to my men’s doings he’s in this dire condition,” he adds. “I’ll keep my promise, I’ll keep him alive,” Cobblepot finishes solemnly and Jim shudders. It sounds like a threat. 

He makes it to the toilet the next time he regains consciousness and even manages to drink some water from the tap before collapsing again. 

When waking up again, he’s hooked to an IV, and his head is spinning.

Oswald is watching him from the door, a wide, toothy grin plastered all over his face. 

“Itsy bitsy, toothy teeth,” Jim thinks in his half-delirious state. He starts laughing. ‘Toothy teeth’, that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? They are sharp like daggers, though, and oh so pearly-white. Jim remembers when they used to be yellow, and full of stains. Oswald hadn’t had the money for a dentist back then. Now, they look like rows and rows of knives carved from ivory. 

Jim waits for him to unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole.  

He blinks, sits up, and shakes his head in an attempt to sober up enough to deal with the gangster. 

“What do you want from me?” he snaps, more harshly than is probably wise. But then given his current state, he’s as threatening as a kitten hissing at a snake. 

As expected, Oswald’s smile merely widens in response, mocking him. “What I want?” he drawls, studying the detective intently. 

Pushing himself from the wall, he limps closer. The bed dips under his weight, and just like that, he’s sitting next to Jim, so close he can feel the other man’s warmth. The detective tries to move away, to get some space between the two of them, but Oswald is having none of it. 

He catches Jim’s bruised hand in his gloved one, inspects the blue and black marks blossoming on his knuckles. Pressing down in a silent warning, he halts the former cop in his tracks. 

To an innocent bystander, they’d look serene, like two old friends united in worry for each other’s fate.  

Jim gasps softly when Oswald increases the pressure. The motion could be comforting.

“What I want,” he repeats pensively. “There are a lot of answers to this question, detective,” he ponders. “So I’m sorry,” he says, directing his gaze at the man next to him, “this might take some time.”

“Then go on,” Jim urges through gritted teeth and Oswald smirks.

“So much bravado,” the mobster acknowledges. “Even now.” Leaning in closely, he whispers, “I can see the fear in your eyes.” 

Jim wants to jerk away from his grasp but Oswald’s fingers clench around him like a vice.

“Do you think someone will save you?” he asks haughtily. “Do you think someone will bust through that door, knock me out, and carry you to safety?” He yanks the detective closer, until he’s all but breathing into his face. “I’ll tell you a secret, Jim. All these good people, those honest Gothamites you kept safe for months didn’t hesitate to sacrifice you. That freedom, that justice you offered them, meant nothing to them. Even Harvey couldn’t deny the temptation of exchanging you for a chance to have his old life, his old comfort back.”

Jim’s eyes widen in shock before he finally pulls his hand free. 

“Liar!” he growls. 

The Penguin tilts his head and sighs, pity written all over his features. “He couldn’t wait to take the bribes off my hands once they appointed him Captain, don’t you remember? I promised him to keep you alive, and that I did.” He nods, obviously pleased with himself. 

Getting up from the bed, Oswald starts pacing the room. “I have been this city’s mayor before,” he mutters. “I did good, kept the crime-rates low and the streets safe. I built hospitals and renewed the streets, staffed schools. The moment Ed shot me it was all forgotten,” he reminisces bitterly. 

“They couldn’t wait to toss me back into the gutter, to depict me as a monster. Do you think it would be different with you?” he scoffs, turning to Jim. “I had been their hero and their villain and so have you,” he challenges. 

“They will carry you on their shoulders and praise your name as long as you benefit them, James. And when I demanded you, they decided that indeed, you have always been the villain to keep them from getting reconnected with the mainland.” 

Shaking his head fondly, he walks back to the bed. “This city makes or breaks you,” he whispers, placing his hands on Jim’s shoulders.

“So, pray tell, why do you want me?” the cop urges. 

Oswald opens his mouth and closes it again, seemingly staring at a point in the distance. 

“I want revenge, Jim,” he admits softly. “I need retaliation for Arkham, for every time you betrayed me, rejected my friendship…” His voice breaks off and Jim feels a cold shiver running down his spine. 

Tilting his head, he inspects the former detective. “I never wanted your death,” he confesses. “Not even when I put the bounty on your head. I dreaded the possibility of someone dragging your cold, lifeless body into my house.”

Unshed tears glisten in the mobster’s eyes. Reaching out, he touches Jim’s face hesitantly, starts following the lines of his features with long, cold digits. The cop lets him, frozen in fear by the implications of the Penguin’s request.

“You were the rare exception in this city. The good, good man. Sure, you’d make your hands dirty, turn to me when there was no one else to turn to, but once you had gotten what you wanted, you’d betray me to my face.”

Swallowing heavily, Jim tries regaining his voice. He’s still feverish, weak, can feel the cold sweat dripping down his forehead. “And you allowed it,” he rasps out. “Every time. And you always knew right from the start that it would end that way.”

The Penguin smiles, sadly, longingly. “I had always so much hope,” he whispers. “So much hope you’d realize how much I used to love you.” 

When leaning forward, Jim thinks he’ll kiss him again. The cop’s mouth drops open. He knew, of course, he knew. What kind of detective would he be if he didn’t realize what had been obvious for so long? It would probably be a good moment to remind Oswald of that fact, of him being a detective - or of all the times he looked the other way when the Penguin committed another crime. 

His mouth runs dry though when the other man starts running his hands down his torso. “I had a stepmother, briefly,” he shares. “I had also stepsiblings,” he carries on. “They poisoned my father. So I cut them into little pieces and fed them to their mother.” 

The smile contorting his features when sharing this tidbit of information will haunt Jim Gordon forever. 

“That was after Arkham,” he declares. “They made me good there, Jim,” he adds, directing his gaze back at the detective. “They took apart my entire being, my personality, my very core, and pieced it back together according to their vision.”

Jim wants to protest how they obviously didn’t achieve anything there but keeps his mouth shut for once. This time, he’s smart enough not to taunt the mobster even more.

“Grace, my stepmother, in a way she helped me becoming myself again,” he muses. “When they released me, I felt sane - but never just quite.” His lower lip quivers and Jim wonders if he should offer some comfort. Finally making a decision, he places a slightly trembling hand above the one still laying on his torso. 

Gratefully, Oswald squeezes his fingers lightly. 

“There was always something off with me though, when they released me. Did you ever dring rotten milk from a box? It tastes normal at first, but then you smack your lips, and it’s there, this slightly sour, rotten taste. You need a moment to catch on, because your body wants to taste this regular milk so badly. At some point, you have to swallow, though. And there’s the clump, and you can’t continue pretending.” 

With a sigh, he lays down next to Jim. “My father was a good man, like my mother. They could have never harmed anyone. So, so good...just like you.” 

Burying his head in Jim’s neck, he inhales deeply. The cop stiffens, before awkwardly patting his back, unsure how to answer all that. 

“Grace, she accused me of being a rapist.” The criminal shudders in silent disgust. “I protested, of course. Yet she looked at me that way, as if I only hadn’t committed this particular crime yet.” 

Oswald’s voice is full of desperation when he speaks again. “Who would be as pathetic as to take love by force. But looking at you,” his voice breaks off when reaching again for Jim, hunger written all over his face. “I want you so much.” 

The cop swallows. Whatever he says now, whatever he does, is crucial. Somehow he knows that even a false movement could end him for good. 

Suddenly, Oswald jumps from the bed as if something had bitten him. Straightening out his suit, he narrows his eyes at Jim. “I could make you want me to,” he blurts out. “I learned everything I need at Arkham, I watched Victor doing his magic,” he shares. Working himself up into an excited frenzy, he starts pacing the room and Jim has had enough of it. 

“You want to what?” he snorts, appalled. “Brainwash me into loving you?” The words come out too harshly, and Jim realizes his mistake instantly, but nevertheless too late. 

Oswald halts in his tracks, eyes wild and as feverish as Jim feels. “Yes! Yes!” he exclaims. “Exactly that.”

Jim Gordon had been afraid of the Penguin before. When he had only been an overeager little umbrella-boy, a creep who used to lurk in the dark, stalking him and his then-fiancée, he had been repulsed, disgusted even with him, yet now, he learns what true terror means. 

With a shudder, he pulls the blanket around his shoulders, presses his entire body against the bed-frame. He feels like a child, hiding in his bed from the monsters, too terrified to get up and turn the lights on. Except, this monster is standing before him in broad light, entirely unwilling to go away.

But there’s not only fear. Even if he rarely admits it, Jim knows somewhere deep inside of him that he helped to shape this particular monster that came to haunt him today. This beast had been molded from grief and betrayal. The cop recognizes a broken heart when he sees one, and a part of him wants to reach out, give in, and grant him his wish. 

And there’s another part, one Jim keeps hidden even from himself. It would probably be wise to speak about it right now, but just like his gangster, he is a fool, full of hope. 

[look-ma-im-on-tv]

Logan's Secret

This is for @stop-it-anxiety 's fall fanfic constest! So, of course, I did some Logince bweh heh and I think it turned out pretty good!

The prompt is Logan's Secret! And this is my official entry too!

Tw: Uh... Not a lot? There's kissing (twice) Remus, food, Deceit, Deceit and Remus aren't strongly sympathetic or unsympathetic. If I missed any, please let me know!

Ships: Logince! Yay!

Word Count: 3,541

"Falsehood!"

"You make ONE mistake--"

"...is an idea that I love POSSIBLY EVEN MORE!"

The small, criticizing voice in the back of Logan's head told him, these are the outbursts we internalize.

For years now, Logan was known to be Logic and nothing more. He was the embodiment of information, with no emotions at all. Or, that's what he wished he was. But despite how much Logan denied it or wished it wasn't true, he did feel emotions. A lot. And he could never let the other sides know. He had to keep this secret to himself. They'd never be able to trust him with a decision again if they knew. Even now he wasn't taken seriously. It would only get worse if people knew he felt complicated, illogical emotions. Especially… 

No. Logan refused to admit that secret, even to himself.

"Logan?" Someone asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Roman, the creative side. The two of them were sat on the floor of Roman's room, papers with ideas and schedules scattered everywhere. They were planning one of Thomas' videos again. Logan had always thought that Roman's ideas were outrageous. Dragon fighting, a house behind a waterfall, none of it ever made sense to him. However, Logan accepted the prince anyways. Probably even because of it. Roman's ability to drift away from reality and bring Logan with him made things seem easier. It was quite  comforting in its own way.

"Hey Specs, you there? Earth to Logan!" He had forgotten to reply to the prince.

"Hm, yes. I apologize. I appear to have been hyper focused on my own thoughts for a moment there."

"You mean you were daydreaming?"

"No, of course not! What is it you want anyways?"

"Ah--Nothing, Specs. I suppose I was just… worried. Forget about it all, okay?" Roman's face turned a worrying shade of red.

"Are you feverish? Do you feel ill, Roman?" Logan started to lift his hand to check Roman's temperature, but stopped himself out of embarrassment.

"Uh--No, no. I'm fine, Lo, don't worry about it."

"Good." Logan held back a relieved smile, hopefully continuing his blank expression. "Now, let us return to planning the next video, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman smiled, looking hard at the floor so Logan wouldn't see. Roman really enjoyed working with the logical side. He was insightful, yet not harsh. He looked up at Logan, blushing when he saw him push up his glasses with that look in his eyes. That look that could capture an entire galaxy. There was so much curiosity, so much passion behind those lenses. When he looked into Logan's eyes, it was like seeing a glimpse of the real him. He knew there had to be more to him than he let on. That look told him. That part of him was what Roman liked--no, loved--about Logan. 

But if he were to ever express his admiration, he'd be shut down so fast his head would spin. No matter how much he wanted him to feel, to care, he simply never would. Even when he did have that look in his eyes, well, Roman was known for imagining things. He never had a chance with Logan. And since he wouldn't and couldn't handle that rejection, he kept his feelings to himself.

"Roman? You are staring at me." Roman instantly turned bright red and returned his attention back to the floor. How embarrassing.

Roman could've sworn he heard a chuckle in the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan clasped a hand over his own mouth. Had Roman noticed that? He must have. Logan fiddled with his hands and refused to look at the prince. That was too close. This is one of those outbursts we internalize. 

Logan slowly and nervously looked up, nearly jumping back when he saw Roman's face only a few inches from his own. This close, Logan could see freckles dusted lightly on his cheeks. His features were lit up with a bright curious expression. There was something mysteriously handsome about Roman. Logan suddenly noticed the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and the red flush in his face. He quickly forced away the smile and turned away to hide his blushing. 

"Was that… You, Lo? Did you laugh just now?" Roman sounded like he was holding back a chuckle himself. 

Oh no. Logan thought. He noticed.

Logan moved back quickly and nearly lost his balance, his face even redder now. He was stumbling over his reply. "N--no! That would be… Preposterous! You know me, I don't do things like laugh."

"You also don't do things like struggle with your words, or blush, or smile." Roman quieted and abandoned his mocking tone. "Lo… you do know you can talk to me, right? You don't have to be perfect, cold, logic all the time. You don't have to hide anything…" He was acting uncharacteristically shy.

"Quiet! I am not keeping anything!" Logan snapped. Roman looked startled, then… Sad. Logan regretted yelling immediately. 

"Roma--Ro…" Roman smiled a little at the nickname.

"Look Lo, it's perfectly fine if I'm wrong here, or if you would prefer not to tell me. But I believe you really do feel things more than you like to let on!"

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh I desperately hope I'm right here.

Roman was worried that he had only made things worse. He should've kept quiet, but he was terrible at keeping his thoughts to himself. He has never seen Logan so nervous and fidgety, he was frantically adjusting his tie.

"I'm sorry, Lo. I didn't mean to--"

"No. No, it's fine. I suppose it isn't good for me to not tell you. The truth is… You are right. I do feel emotions, Roman." He said it as if he was confessing to a crime. "However, I do not want to."

"Why not? This is great!"

"No it is not!" Logan stood up and started pacing around the room. "No one will ever take me seriously. I can't even make proper decisions like this! Feelings and emotions are completely ridiculous. I am Logic! This goes against everything possible!"

"Logan, calm down. You should sit." He sat back down in a huff. "Logan, emotions aren't ridiculous whatsoever. They might not always make sense, but they help make you more… Complete." Suddenly, Roman lit up. "And one of the best things in the universe is when you are so incredibly passionate or happy that you feel as if you are about to explode!" Roman did a dramatic explosion motion with his hands and fell backwards laughing. He got back up at the sound of a chuckle and a gasp. Logan looked startled at himself. 

"It's okay to laugh, Specs." Roman comforted him.

Logan's shocked expression shifted into the smallest warm smile. 

From then on, Roman was nothing but cheery and accepting when Logan was around. He did what he could when they were alone to make him laugh. He just wanted Logan to have a better viewpoint on emotions. The two would watch Disney movies together, color pictures, listen to music, make jokes, any positive, fun things that Roman thought he might enjoy. They got along very well, and Logan always left Roman's room with a smile on his face, even when they had spent the day venting or even crying. 

This first time Logan cried was because he still felt broken for having emotions. It was so different to Roman, seeing him like that. Of course, he had tried to not cry, but that only made it worse. He got to the point of sobbing before Roman calmed him down.

"I am so flawed! How is it possible for me to be like this? I am supposed to be the one keeping things in check and in order. How could I let something like this get through? No logical decision has any emotions behind it and yet… I'm like this! You guys could never trust me again…" Logan had yelled through his tears, furiously trying to wipe them from his face. His shoulders shook with the sobs and he was bent over with his face in his hands. 

Roman had placed a comforting arm around his back, causing Logan to look up, his face tear-streaked and red. It was a devastating sight to Roman. He hated seeing him like this, so hurt. It made the prince want to cry himself.

"What… Are you doing Roman?"

"Comforting you. It's okay Logan. It's okay to have emotions. You are amazing, exactly as you are. You are not flawed, or broken, or defective. You are strong, and good, and so incredibly smart that even I cannot begin to comprehend it. And I would trust you with my life. I believe almost all of us would."

"You believe so?"

"Of course I do, Lo. Just because you have emotions doesn't mean you can't make the right decision. I mean, you have had these emotions the whole time, right? You just didn't let us know?" Logan nodded. "See? And you still make great decisions, you are still great. You admitting this doesn't change a thing." Roman smiled at him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman was the best at making Logan feel better. He always seemed to know the right things to say, and of course there was that smile. His smile was incredibly contagious, and everything about him made Logan happy. He loved spending time with the prince, and while he didn't much care for what they did together, he still enjoyed himself. Roman was a bit of an enigma to him, puzzling him with every facial expression he made and every word he said. But he didn't mind that. It just made Logan want to be around him even more. 

Tonight was the weekly dinner. Each week, all of the sides, including Deceit and Remus, had dinner together and talked about what happened during the week. This was the first dinner since Logan had confessed his secret to Roman, so he was expecting the worst. He didn't want anyone other than Roman to know yet. He could easily see the others mocking him, even if they didn't mean any harm by it all. He sat down in his place anxiously. Patton brought plate after plate of food to the table and everyone else took their seats.

"What a magnificent job, Patton! The food looks wonderful!" Roman cried out cheerily.

"Yes, I agree. Good job, Patton." Logan added stiffly. If he kept the conversation focused on someone else, his secret might just survive the night.

"Well, thanks kiddos! I did my best!" Patton smiled brightly, which made Logan relax significantly. 

They all got their food, with the exception of Remus, who had brought his own 'food,' which consisted of bricks with nail polish dressing, wood chips, and of course, a stick of deodorant for dessert. While the sides never got or needed any nutritional value from their food, they liked eating every now and then for the taste of it. Logan figured that they all just let Remus have his own taste.

For a moment they ate their food with little chatter, none of which was thankfully targeted at Logan. He knew that wouldn't last too long.

"So! Roman, Logan, how's this week's video planning going?" Patton asked.

Virgil was curious too, "It seemed pretty tense for a minute there. You guys know I can tell when you're well," he gestured to himself, "anxious, right? So what happened?"

Logan tried to reply, but whatever lie he might have been able to come up with just got caught in his throat anyways, so he let Roman answer.

"Ah--well, for a moment we just… Couldn't find a good topic! That's all, no need to worry. We figured it out so it's fine."

You are absolutely horrid at lying, Roman. Yet, Logan appreciated Roman's efforts anyways. It was clear he cared about Logan, and about keeping his secret safe. Logan knew this was going bad though when Deceit smiled mischievously. He could always spot a lie.

"What a wonderful explanation, Roman. That doesn't sound like a lie at all," he hissed out. Not menacingly, he didn't want to start something or anything, but he knew Roman was lying and was calling him out on it.

Patton looked hurt and shocked. "Are you… Lying to us Roman?"

"What? No! I would never do anything like that!"

Remus jumped in on the action, sneering "Ooh, is that a smelly little lie I hear?"

Logan noticed Virgil staring at him and suddenly became acutely aware of the worry visible in his expression. He forced his features to relax, quickly adding to the conversation, "I don't understand why any of you would not believe Roman. His explanation is logical and accurate." Logan realized how rushed he sounded, a sign of nervousness. 

Virgil looked confused. "You're… Scared? Both of you?" Of course he could tell.

"Of course not, you--you idiot!" Roman yelled, quieting the whole table. It had been a long time since Roman had said something like that to Virgil. Everyone knew that something was wrong.

Patton leaned forward, concerned. "You guys… What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wro--" 

"Enough, Roman. It's fine." 

"What?" Roman protested.

"I can simply tell them. It's too late to continue attempting to keep any sort of secret." He sighed, hearing the defeat in his own voice. Logan appreciated what Roman was doing, but he couldn't let this get any worse. He especially didn't want Roman looking like the bad guy. He had helped him so much, it was only fair for Logan to return the favor. Even if it meant the secret they had worked to keep had to be revealed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman was shocked. Was Logan going to tell them? He turned to him, worried about the logical side. He had such a defeated look on his face, his head drooping down sadly. Roman put a comforting hand on his arm, realizing that this had to be done, but still helping Logan as much as he could. "Are you sure about this, Lo?"

Logan sighed and said, "Yes." He turned to face everyone, and Roman could tell that he really didn't want to do this. Yet, even so, the way he presented himself made Roman feel light and proud. Logan didn't bother with looking shy, instead he sat tall and looked as  he was giving the most important speech in his life. He looked almost confident, strong, despite being in a vulnerable position.

"I suppose the cause for any worry is the fact that I've recently admitted that… That I am flawed. I actually do feel emotions."

Roman couldn't let him explain it like that. "You're not flawed! You're great how you are!"

Patton smiled, and almost laughed. "Well of course you feel, silly! You're not flawed!"

Logan's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side slightly. Roman thought it was adorable. "You are wrong. I am Logic, therefore I should not feel emotions and this is an error to some degree." 

"None of us are just one thing, kiddo. And we can all feel and be like each other! And really, thanks for telling us. It shows you trust us."

Roman saw Logan freeze.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was not expecting that reaction at all. However… Patton was right. 

Everyone was smiling and reassuring Logan, telling him that he was great and valid just the way he was. And for the first time, he smiled in front of everyone. It was one of the best days Logan ever had. He was so scared, but now he didn't understand what for. They finished their dinners and discussions and everyone but Roman and Logan sank back down to their rooms. 

"Roman? I… Wanted to show my appreciation for today. To say… Thank you. Thank you very much."

"What? Logan, you were incredible today! I'm so proud of you, you were able to tell everyone! You defeated your own dragon witch!"

Logan smiled, something he had started to really enjoy doing. "I could not have done so without you being there. It's because of you that I was able to have any amount of confidence."

"Well… You are very welcome then. Have a good night, Lo. Sleep well."

Logan felt his cheeks flush red, matching Roman's. "You too, Ro."

Over the next few days, Logan still detested the fact that he felt emotions, but the other sides helped a lot, especially Roman. When he was with Roman, he felt comfortable enough to laugh and smile. It was freeing and nice. But most of the time, his emotions still made him feel… Broken.

"Roman?"

"Yeah, Specs?"

"Do you suppose that you could explain to be again why me having emotions is not bad? It is my hope that the reinforcement will assist me to feel less… defective. "

"Defective?"

"Yes."

"Lo, you're not defective. You're not a robot. You're you. And I'll--we'll-- always be there for you, emotions and all. And I enjoy being around the you with emotions, the real you. It's great."

Logan looked down, smiling. He was happy that Roman liked him with feelings. Logan looked up at the prince, who was already looking at him. Roman always looked so genuine, so excited and caring. And he was handsome too. 

He had full lips with smile lines around them, and sparkling hazel eyes. Everything about him was so real, yet so attractive. The way his hair fell over his forehead, how his smiles always reached his eyes… Roman was simply gorgeous to Logan, inside and out. He was always so caring towards him. He helped him every day, just by being himself. Logan always felt safe and happy around him, his outlandish ideas and cheery pastimes one of the things Logan looked forward to most. Roman really was like a prince, and Logan couldn't seem to understand why… Why he wanted to stay like this, looking into each other's eyes, forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman only wanted Logan to be happy. And it seemed like he was. His deep brown eyes were sparkling, and he had a smile that could light up the entire world. He was so smart, and kind, and caring, even when he didn't want to show it. And lately, after admitting his emotions, he was somehow even better to be around. His laugh was better than any songbird's song, his smile brighter than the sun, and his company better than anyone else's. 

Roman knew that what he was about to do was stupid. He wasn't oblivious after all. A million thoughts ran through his head, but only one stuck with him:

I love you.

Because he really did, and now, with his heart racing and head spinning, he knew that this was his only chance. Roman held a hand up to Logan's cheek, desperately trying not to shake too much, and kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a gentle kiss, caring and reserved. Still, Logan was shocked, his eyes wide in surprise. He had no clue that Roman would ever do that. And yet, for some reason, Logan had never felt so happy.

Upon seeing Logan's shocked expression, Roman immediately pulled away, apologizing profusely.

"Oh no, what have I done? Logan--I--I am so sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I mean, you just told me that you feel anything at all and I go and do something stupid like that. God, I'm sorry Lo…"

Logan understood now. "Roman, it's perfectly alright."

"I know, I'm sorry, it was stupi--wait, what? Are you not mad?"

"That would be a negative. That wasn't stupid and… I'm not mad. Quite the opposite actually…"

"What? Why?"

Logan sighed, saying under his breath, "Because I believe I feel the same way you do."

Logan went against anything that Logic had ever told him, and listened to his emotions instead. He brought his hand up to Roman's chin and gently pulled him closer. Logan finally thought of the perfect words to describe the prince. Roman shined like a star. He had a wonderful, perfect glow about him that Logan felt addicted to. With a freeing feeling, Logan finally admitted his true secret. To himself, and to this star of a person, he said,

"I have one last secret, Roman… I love you."

And he kissed him with purpose and meaning, despite having no clue how. Roman seemed shocked for only a moment before sinking into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Logan's neck. They smiled into each other's lips, enjoying finally being able to be together. 

Logan felt everything at once. He felt a little mad that Roman never told him, sad that he didn't tell him himself. But over all of that, he felt happy. He felt love. He cared about Roman, every part of him. And he knew that Roman felt the same.

They pulled apart and moved to sit against Roman's bed. Logan slowly lowered his head until it rested on Roman's shoulder, and looked up at the prince to make sure it was okay. After confirmation from Roman, and after pushing his own thoughts away, Logan melted into him. Roman conjured stars that basked them in a soft glow and said, 

"I love you too, Lo."

And they stayed like that until both of them happily fell asleep in each other's arms.

[feverishbangtan]

All of your supportive words and likes and reblogs really encouraged me to write more. This still took me a while but I hope whoever will read this enjoys it!

—

I've actually had this idea since the LY tour ended so you see how long it took me to write this out. I had a part of it written already but then never continued and when I looked back at it I didn’t really like it so I changed some things. Anyways, I'm done ranting now hehe

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: all the members (and manager Sejin)

Word Count: 8496

TW: hospital, slight panic attack kind of

When Jungkook woke up in the early morning hours, he immediately knew he was sick. His head felt stuffed and heavy as it pounded steadily. It made everything a little hazy but he still clearly registered the ache in his bones and muscles.

It's not like Jungkook wasn't used to body pains after concerts, it's a rather common thing actually. But this, this was different. The ache was much deeper and widespread, his entire body hurting. It was the type of pain that was caused by fever and sickness. Jungkook hated it.

His throat felt dry and sore and his nose was blocked, making it difficult to breath. Jungkook felt so cold and even after pulling the sheets up to his chin his body still shivered with feverish chills.

Jungkook let out a low whine as he shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable. His clothes and the blanket stuck to him because he was so sweaty, chafing and making his skin prickle horribly with each movement. The utter exhaustion wasn't enough to numb the pain and make him fall asleep again so, instead, he sat up against the headboard of the hotel bed. The upright position increased the throbbing in his head and a groan escaped his abused throat, followed by a dry cough that just made it hurt even more.

He grabbed his phone to check the time and realised it was only 4am and he barely slept for two hours. The boys didn't have to get up until later, the private plane scheduled to leave around 10pm that night.

It was impossible for Jungkook to find a comfortable position, every bone and muscle hurting and chills kept racking his body.

Time passed and the sun rose, illuminating the room slightly through the heavy curtains. At some point it became too hard for Jungkook to keep his burning eyes open so he closed them, losing all sense of orientation and time.

Just as Jungkook was finally about to drift off into a slumber again there was a knock on the door.

"Jungkook-ah?" The voice sounded muffled through the door and Jungkook was too out of it to recognize who it belonged to.

A small beep indicated that the person opened the door using a keycard. The sliver of light and noise entering the room startled Jungkook back into full consciousness.

"Jungkook-ah, are you still sleeping?"

This time Jungkook recognized Sejin's voice immediately, all too familiar with it. The man has been their manager since debut and at some point he unwittingly undertook the role of a caring uncle-like figure for the seven boys.

Jungkook let out a pathetic little noise, a mix between a groan and a whimper when Sejin pulled the curtains open. Jungkook tried to shield his sensitive eyes with his arm and the blanket but when the manager tugged on them he was too weak to keep them in place. With a pained moan he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

Sejin knew the boys in and out so he quickly caught on. "What's wrong, Kook-ah? Does your head hurt?"

He made sure to keep his voice low to not cause the maknae any more discomfort. Sejin got up to close the roll-up curtains halfway to block some of the light out as he waited for an answer. When he didn't get one, he squatted down in front of the king size bed. The manager tenderly moved Jungkook's messy bangs to place his big palm on the boy's forehead, checking for a temperature. He made a small knowing noise as he pulled his hand back; definitely too warm.

"What's wrong, Jungkook-ah? You have to tell me so I can help you." Sejin prodded gently.

Sejin hated it when one of the boys got sick. It always got him into a conflict.

On one hand, he cared about them a lot so seeing them unwell but often still trying to push themselves was agonizing to watch. On the other hand, he couldn't just cancel shows and photo shoots because one of them was sick.

Still, Sejin always tried his hardest to grant them as much rest as possible and pulled the sick member out of a schedule whenever possible.

Sometimes they attempted to hide the sickness or downplay it but nothing escaped the managers alert eyes. Jungkook was one of the members that liked to act like nothing was wrong, especially when their schedule was very busy. However, this time was different. They weren't busy anymore. The tour just ended so the maknae wasn't trying to hide his sickness. There was no point anyway. Not when he looked so obviously ill; pale and sweaty and feverish.

And even though Sejin still hated seeing Jungkook so unwell, he was glad that the tour was over and they had nothing scheduled for almost a whole week.

Jungkook's voice was weak and rough when he finally answered. "I don't feel good. Everything hurts, hyung-nim."

Sejin hummed in acknowledgment. He already typed out a message to the medical staff. Since the day before was a concert day and also the final day of the European tour leg, everyone had the day off and Sejin felt bad for having to bother one of them but he needed someone to check up on the maknae of the group.

The other members had left earlier that morning to explore Paris, see the city and the sights and enjoy their day off. Sejin had decided to stay behind, however the other managers left with them. He didn't even know Jungkook was still at the hotel until Hobeom texted him, telling him to come to a certain restaurant that evening together with the youngest for a celebratory dinner. For a second he thought about texting the boys but decided not to worry them unnecessarily and instead wait and see what the medical staff was going to say.

It didn't take long for the head of the medical team to arrive; Sejin profusely apologising to them, which he just declined and assured him that it was alright.

Sejin stood at a distance, letting the man do his work at assessing Jungkook's condition before he came over to him.

"He's feeling pretty bad. He has a high fever and he seems to be a little dehydrated. I'm assuming it's the flu but I suggest taking him to the hospital for a proper checkup."

Sejin mulled over the mans words for a bit but when he glanced at the boy on the bed, looking so unwell, he made a quick decision. He texted the driver to get ready to take them to the nearest hospital ASAP and then went to help Jungkook freshen up a little bit. Sejin got him dressed in a warm hoodie but let him keep his sweatpants on. The manager put Jungkook's shoes on for him when the maknae almost fell over when he tried to do it himself.

Jungkook had a hard time being upright and standing, his feeble legs barely managing to support his own weight. Sejin had a firm hand around his waist to assist him but Jungkook still stumbled over his feet every now and then. He felt dizzy and the pair had to stop a few times, so it took them a little longer to get to the lobby.

Luckily, the company booked the whole floor for them so they weren't at risk of running into anyone unwanted. Throughout the tour everyone made sure to keep the groups residences top secret so there shouldn't be any fans around the hotel either.

The driver met them in the lobby and escorted them to the van parked right in front of the entrance. It didn't take them long to get to the hospital, neither did the waiting time in the ER because only 20 minutes after arriving they were set up in one of the cubicles, a doctor ready to see them. Sejin managed to communicate with the middle-aged woman in English, translating things to Jungkook.

"So what are his symptoms?" The doctor wanted to know.

Jungkook told Sejin about his headache and sore throat, the coughing and stuffed nose, as well as the chills and the fever. Sejin translated it to the doctor.

She typed it down on her tablet. "Since when is he like this? When did the first symptoms show up?”

“He was well last night. He actually was with the medical team before the show because he got injured about a week ago and if he had been sick already they would've informed everyone else and he wouldn't have performed onstage. So I'm assuming it started some time tonight." Sejin answered but turned to Jungkook to confirm it.

"Yes... early morning." He mumbled, a dry cough escaping his throat as he pulled the thin sheets a little tighter around his shaking body.

The doctor hummed as she typed into her digital notepad again. Sejin tried to answer all of the questions as good as possible, Jungkook only adding some small things whenever Sejin needed him to.

After a moment she spoke up again. "It's very common for the flu to happen suddenly and very intense. It's possible that he went to bed feeling fine and then woke up with a high fever, feeling miserable."

Sejin listened intently, glancing at Jungkook every few seconds. The maknae looked so exhausted, Sejin was afraid he could pass out any moment.

"So it's safe to say that he's got the flu?" The manager inquired.

The doctor looked up with her thin lips pursed. "We can take a rapid influenza diagnostic test, however, results are not very accurate and it's really not needed. Based on the symptoms I'm seeing and you've told me about, it is very safe to say that he's caught a severe bout of the flu."

The manager was just about to ask about the treatment plan when the woman spoke up again.

"He's also dehydrated so I'd like for him to stay for a few hours to start rehydrating treatment. I'll send in a nurse to help with that after a quick physical exam."

Sejin could only nod before she was getting some things ready. The doctor took Jungkook's temperature, measured his blood pressure and pulse and used her stethoscope to listen to his breathing. Once she was done she excused herself and left them alone.

Sejin turned back towards Jungkook, just looking sadly at him for a bit before he settled into the chair next to the hospital bed. Sejin noticed how uncomfortable the boy looked but wasn't sure whether it was from the sickness or the narrow, hard bed or maybe just both. Sejin sighed and carefully threaded his fingers through Jungkook's soft hair.

Just as promised, a nurse entered the cubicle soon. She had a glass of what simply looked like juice in one hand and she closed the curtain with the other. She smiled brightly when she turned around and introduced herself.

The young woman tried talking to Jungkook to get his attention, telling him he needed to drink something and that he could sleep afterwards.

"No... No drink." He mumbled in English, not knowing how to say it in French but still trying to get his point across. He held his hand out defensively, shaking it to deny the juice filled glass offered to him.

"Jungkook-ah, it's not an offer. You need to drink. You're dehydrated and we can't leave until that's fixed." Sejin told him, his voice stern yet gentle.

"If he doesn't drink, we'll have to hydrate him with an intravenous solution." The nurse explained to them. 

Jungkook didn't understand much and admittedly it was scary to him; not knowing what was happening but he trusted his manager and was sure he'd take good care of him in his vulnerable state, not making him do anything he wouldn't want to.

Sejin tried again, offering Jungkook the glass one more time, trying to coax him into drinking a few sips at least but it was futile.

Jungkook just wanted to sleep. Why didn't they understand that? He was so exhausted, he just needed rest. His eyes felt so heavy and it was so hard to keep them open, especially with the bright lights aggravating his aching head, therefore he closed them. Every time he thought they'd finally let him rest, someone shook or prodded him. They were also saying things but his addled mind just couldn't make out the words.

The manager noticed Jungkook's sleepiness and he wished he could let him get some shuteye but that just wasn't possible at that moment. He saw how the time between blinks kept getting longer and Jungkook's eyelids seemed to get heavier and harder to open, so whenever he had them closed for too long Sejin gently shook his shoulder or ruffled his hair, any gentle gesture to keep him from falling asleep just yet.

The nurse had left earlier and when she returned she had a few things with her, probably whatever she needed for the IV.

She slowly explained what was about to happen but Jungkook was barely listening.

He didn't even give more than a low grunt when the nurse set up the IV. She left after making sure it worked, with a promise to be back in about half an hour.

Sejin sat next to the hospital bed and finally Jungkook was allowed to get the rest he so much needed.

—

As exhausted as the maknae was, he couldn't stay asleep for long and when he was awake it seemed impossible for him to get comfortable. He was fidgety and unusually whiny, little pitiful noises escaping him every few seconds.

Sejin tried to soothe him; tried to lightly massaging Jungkook's head, tried to calm him with gentle whispers but no matter what he did, it didn't get better.

The nurse came back like she promised, exchanged the IV bag and left again with a promise to send the doctor in so she could give Jungkook something against the pain.

Two hours passed before the middle-aged doctor came back, accompanied by the nurse. She got Jungkook to drink some of the juice before the nurse removed the IV and left.

Jungkook sat on the bed, back propped up with a pillow and Sejin stayed very close to him. 

"Alright, usually you don't need anything but a lot of bed rest and plenty of fluids to recover from the flu. It's possible to prescribe antiviral medication, though, it just possibly shortens the sickness for a marginal amount of time barely worth mentioning and the possible side effects would just make him feel worse. I suggest taking simple over-the-counter pain relievers to help with the aches and cough syrup for the coughing." The doctor explained.

"Thank you very much. I do have a question, though.” Sejin spoke up. “We were meant to leave for Seoul tonight. Can he sit through such a long flight without possibly risking his health further?" 

Sejin knew the boys and the staff were all tired and they all were looking forward to going back home so he needed to know if Jungkook could travel in his condition.

The doctor looked contemplative for a moment before she answered. "If you must fly, make sure he uses a decongestant as it's possible to temporarily damage the eardrums due to pressure changes. If not necessary, I'd like to advise you not to take the flight as it just adds more stress to his already stressed-out system and can make his condition worse."

Sejin nodded thoughtfully, mentally preparing to stay back with the maknae for a few more days, at least until his fever was going down and he felt a little better.

After making sure he understood everything correctly, Sejin let the driver know that they were finally being discharged. 

It was already afternoon when he assisted a shaky Jungkook out of the hospital and settled him into one of the comfortable backseats of the van. Sejin stayed in the back with him. The drive back to the hotel wasn't very long but it was enough time for the manager to send out the same text to the whole staff, as well as the members, explaining the situation at hand.

Very quietly Jungkook spoke up, his voice hoarse. "Hyung-nim... I want to go home. I don't want to stay here."

Sejin immediately understood that he was referring to what the doctor had told them about the flight situation. And he wanted to refuse, he really did because Jungkook needed to rest, needed to get better soon and not risk getting worse.

But when the maknae looked up at him, his big eyes teary and glassy from the fever, he found himself unable to.

So he wrapped a gentle arm around Jungkook's shoulders to pull him into his side and whispered. "Alright. If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."

The manager heard the quiet sigh of relief and felt like he did the right thing. He gave Jungkook a soft squeeze and told him to rest until they got to the hotel. The boy relaxed into his side almost instantly.

Sejin checked his phone again and it was basically bombarded with texts from the members and staff. He felt a little bad about it but he decided to answer his fellow managers first, informing them of the details about the situation.

—

Sejin didn't like to but he had to rise Jungkook from his short nap when they arrived in front of the hotel. As much as he wanted the maknae to rest, the van wasn't the right place for that.

Jungkook was a lot easier to wake up when he was sick, his sleep nowhere near as heavy as it usually was. 

The maknae was groggy and the journey back to his hotel room took a little too long for Sejin's liking. He was worried to see the boy so winded when he was used to seeing him so energetic and full of stamina. Sejin was relieved when they finally reached the room and he could sit Jungkook down on the bed.

Jungkook clumsily took off his jacket and shoes and went straight back into bed. He squirmed and whined a little but it didn't take very long for him to fall asleep, utterly exhausted.

Only once Sejin was sure Jungkook was comfortably asleep did he answer the member's messages. They texted back immediately, informing him that they were on their way back already and that they'd be there soon.

—

Jungkook woke up slowly, his brain taking time to catch up with reality. 

Before anything else, though, he was once again cruelly made aware of the body aches the flu was causing him. His face scrunched up in discomfort. Jungkook's head throbbed in time to his heartbeats and he felt hot and sweaty, the sheets clinging to him in a way that frustrated him so much he couldn't help the hoarse whine escaping his lips. It set off a dry coughing fit that made his throat burn.

There were hands on him, sitting him up and stroking his back and once Jungkook calmed down he saw all the members were with him, either perched on the edge of the bed or right in front of it but never too far away.

"Hey, Kookoo." Taehyung smiled softly at him. "Sejin messaged us and we came right back. How are you feeling now?"

The blanket shifted when Jungkook was sat up and he suddenly felt very cold instead of too warm. He leaned back into the pillows and pulled the blanket tightly around his body.

"I'm tired and achy..." Jungkook mumbled quietly. "Don't feel so good."

Namjoon gently patted his arm. "I bet you don’t, Kookie-yah."

Jungkook pushed the sheets aside when he started to feel too hot again. He felt annoyed by how he felt too warm under the blankets but too cold without them.

The members seemed to notice and Jimin shifted the sheets so they only covered half of Jungkook's body.

"Better?" The older asked hopefully.

Jungkook nodded, eyes half lidded due to tiredness. His nose was blocked so he had to breathe through his mouth, causing it to become dry and hurt his throat more.

As if Yoongi knew, he handed Jungkook a glass of water. "Here, drink something."

Jungkook drank a few sips before he settled down again. He had his eyes closed already when he sleepily mumbled, "Wanna sleep."

Seokjin lovingly ruffled the maknae's hair but pulled back quickly. He felt very warm and sticky due to sweating.

"You're all sweaty. I think you should take a shower, it would also help with your temperature." The oldest pointed out.

Jungkook pouted. He didn't like the idea of getting up and showering at all. The thought of the hard water raining down on his already over sensitive skin didn't seem appealing to him, neither did standing up. Even laying down he felt how weak and exhausted he was, barely able to move his limbs.

Jungkook wanted to tell them he didn't have the strength for a shower, that he didn't feel well enough to even leave the bed. Because he wasn't. Just the thought of having to get up tired him out and made him dizzy.

But he was afraid they wouldn't listen to him either way. Or worse, they'd tell their managers and maybe they would make him stay back because if he couldn't even shower, he definitely couldn't take such a long flight.

"C'mon, Kook-ah. You'll feel a little better afterwards and you can go back to bed as soon as you're done." Hoseok tried to negotiate.

"We'll help you, baby." Jimin offered affectionately.

Jungkook didn't want help but he let Hoseok and Jimin aid him to the bathroom. He also let Jimin fill up the bathtub instead when they noticed just how unsteady the maknae was.

"Just yell if you need anything and we'll help you." Hoseok told him, reluctant to leave but Jungkook, stubborn as ever, refused their offers of helping him to wash himself.

The water was lukewarm and Jungkook didn't like it at all but he also knew it was best for him so he pushed through and as quickly as possible soaped down his body and hair. He took several breaks, his arms feeling to weak to continue, so it took him a bit longer.

Jimin had come in again, leaving him fresh clothes and a big fluffy towel which he wrapped around himself once he was done.

Jungkook managed to put on his underwear with difficulty and he finally gave up on trying to do everything himself when he nearly fell over as he tried to put on his socks. He called for his hyung's help and Jimin immediately burst through the door, as if he had been waiting for it.

"What's it, Jungkookie?" Jimin was by his side in under a second.

"Hyung, can you help me get dressed?" Jungkook mumbled a little embarrassed but luckily the pink tint wasn't visible due to the fever blush that was already coating his cheeks.

Jimin kneeled down in front of Jungkook. "Just hold onto my shoulders so you don't fall over."

He managed to get Jungkook dressed in fresh comfortable clothes. Jimin asked Hoseok to help him get the maknae back to bed again. It seemed like the bath drained all of the little energy Jungkook had left.

Hoseok could see how much he struggled just standing upright, so he held him firmly, Jimin doing the same on the other side.

Jimin noticed how the room looked a little emptier and realized that the others must've started packing Jungkook's suitcases for him while they were in the bathroom. Jungkook was very neat so there probably wasn't much to do anyway but the maknae was in no condition to do it himself.

After Hoseok tucked the maknae under the blankets he laid down behind him, spooning him. Namjoon sat down next to them, stroking the damp hair from Jungkook’s feverish forehead.

"See, it's a little better now, isn't it?"

Jungkook did feel less disgusting, yes, but the bath was horrible and he didn't feel better overall. Still, he nodded slightly as he curled up and moved closer to Hoseok, seeking warmth. Jungkook's head still pounded and he sniffled as he let his eyes fall shut.

"Jungkook-ah." Yoongi's deep voice stopped him from drifting off. "Drink some more. Then you can sleep."

Jungkook groaned but let Hoseok help him sit up so he could have a few sips of water. When Yoongi was satisfied he took the glass and Hoseok pulled Jungkook back down.

It didn't take long for Jungkook to doze off into a shallow slumber.

For the rest of the afternoon he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, never staying awake for too long, not falling into a deep sleep either. It was a fitful rest if it could be called resting at all because Jungkook still looked exhausted.

His muscles and joints weren’t hurting as much, he only recognized them as dull aches and the pounding in his head wasn’t as bad either when he was so out of it. The other members never left his side.

"I've never seen him this sick." Seokjin muttered, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair when he started to fidget in his sleep.

"I don’t think I've ever seen anyone this sick." Jimin responded.

Jungkook started whimpering, small pitiful sounds, and it hurt their hearts. Taehyung laid down so he was facing the youngest and gently stroked his fever flushed cheek.

"Shh, we're here. We'll take care of you, Jungkookie."

He didn’t know if Jungkook heard him but he calmed down, relaxing into the mattress.

—

"C'mon boys, I'll stay here and watch him. You've been here all afternoon." Sejin tried to convince the six members.

"But-" Taehyung interjected but Sejin spoke up again before he could continue. "I know you want to stay with him but it's just for an hour or so. Go to the restaurant. You were looking forward to it."

"We were looking forward to go there together. All of us." Taehyung argued, a pout on his lips.

Sejin smiled sadly at them. "I know. I know. But you deserve this dinner. And we'll pick you up in about an hour and go to the airport right after."

That back and forth had been going on for a good ten minutes already. 

When they had arrived in Paris, the staff reserved a few tables at a fancy restaurant for the members and themselves to celebrate the end of the European tour leg. They had all been excited once they found out about it, always happy to go out with the whole crew and letting them now how thankful they were for their hard work. But now they didn’t want to leave Jungkook's side, the youngest too sick to attend the dinner.

Eventually the members agreed, though. They didn’t want to be rude and turn down the staff's invite but they demanded constant updates from Sejin, who would stay behind to look out for Jungkook.

It was about an hour and a half later that the manager got a text, informing him that the driver was in front of the hotel. They would pick up the other members, as well as two other managers, Hobeom and Jigaemae, and then drive straight to the airport. 

The company had spent a pretty penny on the boys and granted them a private Jet for their journey back to Seoul. Sejin was more than happy about that; it meant that they'd be able to skip the whole standing-in-line-and-being-in-a-crowded-airport part and go straight to the boarding-the-plane part. It also meant, there would be less stress and he therefore hoped that Jungkook's condition wouldn’t get worse. He made sure to give him the decongestants as well as regular painkillers before guiding him out of the hotel.

Jungkook had slept for most of the afternoon and evening but exhaustion still lingered in his every bone. He felt dizzy and unsteady as soon as he was upright and Sejin had to support him the whole way from his room to the car.

"You should stop working out, you're getting pretty heavy." Sejin grunted teasingly.

"...Sorry." Jungkook's voice was so airy, it was hard to hear.

Sejin sighed and tightened the arm he had wrapped around Jungkook's waist.

The maknae settled into the seat and tried to relax. He closed his eyes, thick jacket wrapped tightly around him as the warm air inside the van did little to cease the shivers racking his body. Jungkook peeked out the window for a little bit, the city flashing by but his head hurt too much to concentrate on anything really. 

By the time they stopped in front of the restaurant, Jungkook was too out of it to notice his members climbing in and settling down around him. Subconsciously, he did hear the soft voices, felt the warm touches but he didn’t react to any of them, just let them lull him into a short nap.

The black face mask and the hood covering his hair obscured the view of his pinched expression when someone shook him awake. Jungkook felt horrible, no matter how much he slept or how much medicine he took.

"C'mon, Jungkook-ah, wake up. We're at the airport." Sejin's voice cut through his tired confusion.

Jungkook sat up, blinking blearily as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was still in the van but they were parked and the door was open. He could see his hyungs standing right in front of the car door and realized he was the only one left inside.

Jungkook struggled to get out but managed with Sejin's help. Hoseok was immediately at his side, rubbing his back but then their manager spoke up.

"Guys, walk. We'll be right behind you but go get on the plane first." Sejin told the members sternly and Jungkook saw them walking ahead reluctantly.

Hobeom and Jigaemae escorted the boys to the steps leading into the aircraft and followed right after. In the meantime, Sejin gently guided the maknae towards the same entry, one strong hand on the small on his back, the other holding Jungkook's upper arm to keep him from stumbling and hitting the rough ground.

"Slowly. One step at a time." Sejin reminded him when they started climbing the steps. "You're doing good. That's it."

Jungkook didn’t feel like he was doing good.

He felt like he was going to collapse, his legs weak and shaky and his lungs burning as he panted shallowly. He removed the mask covering his nose and mouth halfway through in hopes of breathing easier.

"We're almost there. You can sit down in a second." Worry was clear in the managers voice but Jungkook didn’t answer, only gripping onto the railing harder as he took the last few steps.

Sejin basically dragged Jungkook into the body of the Jet, Taehyung jumping up immediately to point him at a seat they apparently reserved for the youngest. Once the manager sat him down he understood why. It was a single seat and the only one you could move the backrest of. It was still a little while until takeoff so Sejin let Taehyung recline the seat, gently reminding them all that they would have to move it back into a sitting position for when the journey started.

Namjoon spread a soft blanket over Jungkook's body and the maknae was very grateful, hoping that the soft smile he was trying to give him actually looked like one and not like a grimace.

—

Jungkook must've fallen asleep again because someone was shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up. He couldn't have slept for very long, the plane was almost ready when they had entered it.

"We're taking off, Kook-ah. You have to sit up for a bit."

And as if to prove Namjoon's words the loud noise of the engine resounded and the plane jerked as it started to move.

Namjoon put Jungkook's backrest into an upright position and Jungkook shifted to sit more comfortably. He failed to close the seatbelt with his shaky fingers so Namjoon closed the clasp for him and pulled it a little tighter, securing the maknae in his seat.

Jungkook thanked him quietly and the leader gave him a soft dimpled smile.

"There's a bed in the back. You can lay down there once we're safely in the air." Namjoon ruffled the maknae's hair before he sat back into his own seat across from Jungkook's.

Usually, Jungkook didn’t mind the takeoff or landing but this time he wanted it to be done with already so he could lay back down. He was so tired, he felt like he could sleep for a whole week straight but at the same time he wasn’t sure if he would be able to sleep at all.

Luckily for him, they soon were in the air, the seatbelt lights going out. Jimin was at his side within seconds.

"Jungkookie, let's go lay down." He prompted and helped Jungkook out of the seat. He opened the door separating the small bedroom from the rest of the airplane.

Jimin pulled the blanket back from the bed and motioned for Jungkook to lay down. The younger didn't hesitate, the bed looked so comfortable.

"I'll be right back Kookie." Jimin pulled the sheets over Jungkook before he left him alone.

A few moments later the older returned, his arms full of all kinds of things. He dropped everything on the bed before sorting it. He put some water bottles and tissues on the small nightstand, then some packs of what seemed to be different kinds of medicine and pain relievers. Lastly, Jimin picked up the thermometer and kneeled down on the bed next to Jungkook.

"Open up Jungkook-ah." Jimin told him with a gentle tap to the underside of Jungkook's chin.

Jungkook followed his hyung's instructions and held the thermometer under his tongue where Jimin had placed it until it beeped. Jimin frowned at the device and got up with a small sigh.

"Does anything hurt, Jungkookie?" The older asked, glancing at the array of medicine he brought with him.

"My head and throat hurt and my whole body feels sore, hyung." Jungkook's voice was scratchy and hoarse when he spoke, as if it wanted to emphasize what he said.

Jimin handed Jungkook two pills along with an open water bottle, telling him to take those and maybe try and drink some more of the water. Jungkook was sweating so much, they were worried he'd end up dehydrated again and feeling worse because of it.

Jungkook settled back into the pillows when he was done and let his heavy eyes slip shut. He could hear Jimin moving around a bit more before he felt something cool on his forehead. Jungkook's eyes snapped open again in surprise.

"It's just a fever patch, your temperature is a little high. Try to rest, ahgi." Jimin reassured, pushing Jungkook's bangs back gently.

Jimin stayed with Jungkook until he was sure he was fast asleep. He lovingly stroked the maknae’s cheek, whispering a quiet "I love you" before he returned back to the other members.

"He's sleeping now. His temperature was 39.9° when I took it so I gave him fever reducers and painkillers. I also put a fever patch on his forehead so hopefully that'll help." Jimin told the others as he sat back down next to Taehyung.

"Yeah... hopefully that'll help." They murmured their agreements but still looked sad for their sick maknae.

—

Jungkook felt like he only slept for a short time when he woke up again, though he couldn't be sure. 

His throat felt dry and he let his tongue swipe over his chapped lips. When he swallowed Jungkook found that his nose was almost completely blocked and his throat was still sore. He let out a few weak coughs.

"Jungkook-ah? You awake?" Someone asked close to him and Jungkook recognized the voice as Yoongi's.

Jungkook groaned miserably but nodded.

"Hmm, did you sleep well? You've been asleep for a few hours." Yoongi hummed and threaded his fingers through Jungkook's hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

Jungkook leaned into the touch, he was still sleepy.

"Yeah, I think I did." He murmured quietly.

Yoongi chuckled. "Let's try and sleep some more, though. You still look tired and I came here so I could take a nap. Everyone else is sleeping as well."

Jungkook curled into Yoongi's side and burried his head in his shoulder. The older could feel the heat radiating from him and it worried him that Jungkook still felt so warm.

They tried to fall asleep again but Jungkook soon started to fidget.

He felt so warm, he needed to get the blanket off of him. He kicked his legs and untangled his arms to shove it away. Jungkook turned around with a groan, he felt so uncomfortable.

Before Yoongi could ask him what was wrong Jungkook started to toss again, this time curling up right beside the older's body. He blindly grabbed for the blanket again and whined when he couldn't reach it.

Yoongi realized what was going on and pulled the blanket over Jungkook so it covered him up to his waist. Then he wrapped his arms around the maknae, holding him close.

"Are you having hot and cold flushes?" Yoongi murmured close to Jungkook's ear.

The younger shivered and whimpered. He nodded his head against Yoongi's chest, already trying to get his legs out of the blanket again as his body felt like it was heating up, a thin sheet of sweat coating his skin.

The flushes continued for a while and Yoongi tried his best to assist the youngest as best as he could, even though it was a little frustrating to continuously move the sheets around.

Jungkook didn't fall asleep again and neither did Yoongi. After a while they could hear quiet words coming from the other side of the door, obviously the others woke up as well.

"Do you want to sit with everyone and maybe try and eat some of the snacks?" Yoongi suggested when it became obvious that neither of them would get any more sleep.

Jungkook contemplated the idea for a second before nodding in agreement.

Yoongi helped the younger get up and opened the door for him. Everyone's eyes were on them when they exited the room but they had soft smiles on their faces when they saw the maknae. Jungkook's hair was messy and a little damp at the ends from sweating, his body was comfortably burried in one of his big oversized sweaters and his doe eyes had some of their usual spark back in them. All in all, as sick and pale as he was, he still looked adorable.

"Jungkookie-yah, come sit here. Sit with hyung!" Seokjin demanded, patting the seat next to him that was currently occupied by his RJ plushie. The oldest quickly threw the alpaca into the seat across from him so Jungkook could take the offered seat.

The maknae sat down heavily and pulled his legs up to his chest. He gently laid his cheek on his knees, sniffing a little to try and breathe easier.

"You listen so well, Jungkook-ah." Seokjin praised teasingly and he was glad to see the small upturn of Jungkook's lip.

"Only to you, hyung." Jungkook played along. He sounded nasally and his voice was rough but it was nice to see him being playful.

The others quietly laughed when Seokjin pulled Jungkook close and patted his head lovingly.

"Let's eat everyone!" Hoseok happily cheered and only then did Jungkook notice the plates full of sandwiches, sushi and fruits and other snacks on the table.

He wasn't particularly hungry but he thought he should try something anyway so Jungkook grabbed one of the strawberries, nibbling on it until it was gone. They all ate rather silently and it was a little weird because all seven of them together usually was a loud affair. They'd fight over who gets the bigger pieces and who would get the last one but when they saw that Jungkook was just eating the strawberries and some of the rice they all silently agreed that they would let him have however much he wanted. They were glad he was eating at all.

—

The boy's sat together for a while longer, until they were full and all of the food was gone. They continued talking and joking around.

Jungkook stopped listening after a while, his eyelids becoming heavy and the times between blinks becoming longer as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Seokjin took notice of that and gently pulled him into his side. "Are you tired Jungkook-ah?"

The younger nodded, his eyes now closed. He took in a deep breath but it turned into a coughing fit, leaving him breathless once he was done. Seokjin rubbed his back up and down, hoping it was a soothing motion that would calm the younger down.

"Do you want to lay back down?" Seokjin asked.

When Jungkook nodded again, the older stood up and held out a hand to him. With a gentle hand on his back Seokjin guided him back to the bed in the back. He fluffed the pillows for the sick maknae and tucked him in.

"Do you need anything? Something to drink? Are you in pain?" Seokjin worried, wanting to be helpful to his maknae.

Jungkook pressed the side of his face into the pillow with a soft moan. "Mmh, head and throat hurt."

The stuff Jimin had brought in earlier was still scattered around the nightstand so Seokjin looked through it, trying to find something that would help the younger.

He ended up giving him a lozenge that would soothe his throat and calm down the coughing, as well as a tablet that would help with the headache.

Seokjin stayed with Jungkook, combing his fingers through his hair, occasionally brushing his forehead. He was glad to find that the younger didn't feel as warm anymore.

"Sleep well, Jungkook-ah." Seokjin murmured quietly as he left the room when he was sure Jungkook was asleep.

—

When Jungkook became aware that he was waking up he tried to resist. He didn't want to wake up. He never felt much better when he did. Why couldn't his body just stay asleep until he felt better? Sleep was all he really needed after all.

The more Jungkook tried to force himself asleep again, the less it worked and finally he had to admit to himself that he was awake and he wouldn’t fall asleep again.

He could feel someone laying next to him so he moved, his whole body pressing into the other person’s side.

"Kookie?" Taehyung's deep voice asked close to his ear, "How are you? Are you feeling a little better?"

Jungkook didn't feel better at all. His head was still pounding and his throat was so sore it was hard to swallow, it was as if he never took anything to help with the pain. The terrible body aches were back as well, focused on his back and legs, his knees feeling like they were being shattered. Jungkook felt so miserable and he hated it.

He turned his head to cough into the pillow, groaning when it aggravated the ache in his throat.

Taehyung sighed and rubbed Jungkook’s back. "You always try to act like a hyung but situations like this remind me that you're the baby of the group."

Jungkook turned his head to look at his hyung and sure enough there was a soft smile on his face, though worry still evident on his features. Taehyung reached out his hand and placed it on the maknae's forehead. He felt very warm and his clothes and skin were wet from sweat because of the fever. The older made a displeased noise.

"You feel so warm." He told him and turned around to grab the thermometer.

Taehyung did expect the fever to be high, however, he was shocked when he saw that the number was close to 40°. He glanced at the thermometer and back at Jungkook, then he scrambled out of bed, telling the younger that he'd be right back.

He did come back quickly, Hoseok with him. They both had worried expressions on their faces.

Hoseok sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping. He moved the bangs from Jungkook's forehead and placed his hand on it. Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

"Poor Jungkookie. You’re feeling so bad, don’t you?" The older sighed.

"Hyung, I think he can take another." Taehyung spoke up suddenly. He had been reading the signature of the medicine to make sure it was safe to give Jungkook more medicine without accidentally causing an overdose or something.

They gave him one of the pills and a bottle of water to help swallow it down. Hoseok made sure he was comfortable; fluffing the pillows again, untangling the sheets Jungkook accidentally messed up in his sleep and then placed another one of the fever patches on his forehead, hoping it would help bring down his temperature.

Hoseok and Taehyung stayed with him, laying on either side of him. They brought the iPad and put on a movie to try and distract Jungkook, taking his mind off of the aches and pains.

Jungkook had no idea how much time had passed so he was surprised when Namjoon came in, telling them they needed to sit down because they were about to land at Incheon International Airport. He felt relieved that he would finally be able to leave the plane and that he would be back home within an hour or so and got to rest in familiar surroundings.

—

It was evening, around 6pm, when they touched down. Unfortunately for them, Incheon Internation Airport did not have a private exit they could leave from without being seen. That meant, they had to fight through the busy airport, surely a bunch of fans and reporters waiting for them.

Namjoon stayed right by Jungkook's side the entire time, his hand on the small of his back to guide him along the way. Manager Sejin was on his other side, hovering protectively around the two members, several more security guards surrounding them.

They were the last ones in the row, the other members walking ahead of them, all of them surrounded by security personnel as well. They could hear loud screams and cameras clicking as soon as they entered the building.

Jungkook had his hood far over his face so it covered his eyes, the rest of his face hidden by a mask they made him wear before he left the plane. He couldn't see much except for his feet stumbling along as he tried to keep up with Namjoon and everyone else. Walking was so hard for his weak, feverish body and the only thing keeping him going was his hyung guiding him through the crowd. He felt dizzy and disoriented, solely relying on Namjoon and Sejin to get him out safely.

It seemed like the fans and reporters were especially excited to finally see them again after their long overseas tour. They kept pushing to get closer to the members and if it hadn't been for Sejin and Namjoon, Jungkook probably would've ended up on the floor several times already.

Walking through such a rowdy mass of people was never fun, not even when they were all alright and even though the boys were visibly annoyed by it, those people never stopped. The members never said anything though, just tried to ignore it and get to their destination in one piece.

"Stop pushing!" Namjoon's loud voice roared, startling Jungkook. He looked up to see his hyung glaring at the people to their right. Namjoon's voice sounded booming to Jungkook but most of the people around them didn't seem affected at all as they just continued to push forward.

At some point they couldn't continue walking, people blocking their path while they took pictures and videos. Jungkook pulled the hood further down his face and ducked his head, hoping that, along with the mask, it would hide him enough. Namjoon pulled him closer, hugging him as the security tried to create a way for them to pass through. It was terrible and breathing got harder for Jungkook. He wanted to get out already. He wanted to be back home at the dorm he shared with his hyungs. He wanted them to take care of him and make him feel better. He didn’t want to be at the airport in the middle of a raucous horde at all.

Jungkook barely registered it when he was guided into the car waiting for them. His breathing was too fast and labored and his vision was blurry. He felt overwhelmed.

"-kook-ah? Hey, Jungkookie."

He slowly became aware of his surroundings, the soft voice talking to him and the gentle hands cupping his cheeks. Jungkook looked up and saw Namjoon looking at him worriedly.

"Are you with us? Are you okay?" He asked lowly as if he was trying not to startle the maknae.

Jungkook swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah..." He let out a deep breath, pulling the mask under his chin to try and breathe a little easier, "Thank you, hyung."

Namjoon gave him a dimpled smile and removed his hands from Jungkook's cheeks. 

"We'll be home soon and then you can get all the rest you need." He pulled the younger towards him so he could rest his head on his shoulder.

Jungkook's body and mind felt so heavy, it was easy to drift off into a slumber until they reached the dorm.

The others didn't want to wake him up yet, so Seokjin pulled the maknae on his back and carried him inside. He laid him down on the couch when they entered their home, the others dropping all of their luggage around the living room. Jungkook stirred and opened his eyes blearily.

He tiredly took in his surroundings, feeling safe and comfortable at home, surrounded by all of his hyungs. It was nice.

The older members made him take a shower as he was in desperate need of one with all of the sweating and traveling he had been doing. This time he let Hoseok help him, letting him shampoo his hair and wash his back for him.

Two hours later he was comfortably tucked into his own bed, all six of his hyungs with him as they told him goodnight's and get well soon's.

"Sleep well Kookie and feel better soon." Jimin told him, kissing his warm forehead gently. None of them left him until he was asleep, all of them promising to take good care of him until he was well again.

____

Hopefully this wasn’t too long and boring ㅠㅠ

[megalony]

I do love you- Part 9

Another part of my latest Roger Taylor series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback, especially @butlegendsneverdie.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae  @mcrmarvelloki  @langdonzvoid  @jennyggggrrr  @butlegendsneverdie  @reedusteinrambles

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Dipping his head down Roger turned his gaze to his shoes as he bit down on his lip. His hands finding their way to the back pockets in his jeans when he noticed (Y/n) making her way down the corridor.

For the past week, the pair of them had done a rather good job at avoiding one another in terms of coming to see James. When (Y/n) was coming to visit, Roger was usually leaving and vice versa so there wasn't any awkward tension hanging in the air. Neither of them wanted to fight when they were there to see their boy. When Roger knew (Y/n) was with James he went back to the apartment to grab some clothes, Freddie insisting that Roger could stay as long as he needed. Roger didn't want to be staying with Freddie, not right now but he couldn't go back when things between him and (Y/n) weren't sorted.

There was a burning fire in Roger's chest and the pit of his stomach when he thought about their argument. He understood that (Y/n) was James' mother and wanted to be with him and care for him but at the same time, what she said was out of line and he couldn't easily forgive those harsh words.

"Rog-"

"The nurse wanted to discuss something with us, I'll leave after that so you can be alone with him." Roger cut in, this being the first time they had properly tried some kind of conversation since their argument last week.

"Can we talk first, just us? I need to apologise, not being around you is weird." Biting her lip (Y/n) looked up, her eyes locking with his own as she attempted a half smile. Roger was her closest and oldest friend, not seeing him for even a week felt like withdrawal symptoms. She was so used to him calling up and asking for them to have their weekly meetings or just a general catch up over the phone. Roger always invited her to come along to the studio and since (Y/n) was pregnant they never went three days without talking or seeing one another, a week felt awful.

Glancing his eyes to the left Roger nodded towards one of the small side rooms that were used for families to chat with doctors or have moments to themselves. He waited for (Y/n) to start walking before following behind, shutting the door quietly behind them as they looked around the room both unsure whether to sit or stand.

Roger decided to sit on the arm of one of the chairs, his hands planted themselves on his thighs as he watched (Y/n) stand a few paces in front of him.

"I was out of line. I know James means as much to you as he does me and I know what you sacrificed to try and make things for us work." Biting her lip (Y/n) tried so hard to hold back the tears but it was no use. The feeling of crying was second nature and so normal this past month that trying to stop crying wasn't something that she had had to do. It wasted too much energy to try to fight the tears when they would eventually fall anyway. "But I feel useless. You knew what was wrong with me from five minutes of seeing the symptoms that I didn't think twice about. You knew what was best for me and James when I was going to make the wrong choice, you know how to help Rog and I don't. I'm jealous because you can care for both of us when I don't feel I can look after myself and I lashed out."

(Y/n)'s foot started tapping wildly against the floor as a flurry of tears escaped her eyes like a river running for the ocean. Her broken state making Roger's heart crumble and any harsh emotion against her was evaporating in a heartbeat.

Roger was the one to realise the life-threatening condition (Y/n) had developed, something that never crossed her mind. If he hadn't of noticed then (Y/n) would have carried on as normal until the symptoms got worse or to a point where they wouldn't be here now. Roger knew just what to say when (Y/n) wasn't coping with being in the hospital. He advised her on what was best for her and James when she felt like disagreeing with the C-section the nurses were advising. When (Y/n) threw up and felt herself feeling unwell she wouldn't have thought her liver was getting damaged to a worrying point like Roger did. He alerted the nurses and helped both her and James with the C-section happened earlier. Everything that had happened was because of Roger and both of them had a good idea that they wouldn't have James here with them now if Roger hadn't of stepped in all those times.

It made (Y/n) feel useless to know that all of those times it had been Roger who had done something which ended up saving her and James. She couldn't do anything to care for their son up until now and Roger had done so much. When he took them both home that night (Y/n) hit breaking point because he was still doing what was best for them both and she hated it. Knowing she couldn't do anything for James, knowing she was making herself worse with the craving to be with her son and do something for him. She lashed out at Roger and that was something she never should have done.

"I'm sorry for what I said..." There was so much more that (Y/n) wanted to say to Roger but the words weren't passing from her lips quick enough and her mind was beginning to crumble.

"Oh, sweetheart." Rubbing quickly at his own eyes to clear them from the tears distorting his vision, Roger pushed himself to his feet. His arms quickly winding around (Y/n) who melted into his arms, the feeling so euphoric that she felt her knees almost give way. Resting one arm around her waist Roger pressed his other hand to the back of her head, gently pulling her back with him. Sitting down properly on the chair Roger gently tugged (Y/n) to sit on his lap, her head burying into his neck.

Everything had gotten too much for the pair of them, tempers were bound to flare and it couldn't be helped. Sometimes fuses blowing and words being shouted back and forth was a form of release that was needed. "You are anything but useless. You carried James for seven months, you looked after him for as long as you could that is not useless. You're the reason he's here, university is the only reason I knew something about you being ill. That's just information compared to your body doing what it did for him." All Roger had was information on her condition and knowledge on what would be the best options and estimates. (Y/n) hadn't gone to school for being a mother, no one told her how to carry a child or make the decision to have her baby early. No one told her how to be a mother and how to bring life into the world, that was instinct and built in and she had done that. She was far from useless.

"But you-"

"I know how to take care of you, but I don't have those maternal instincts that you do. Both of us are helpful to James in different ways, don't ever think you can't do anything for him. Right, I need to ask you one thing, and then we can go see about James, yeah?"

Moving her head from his neck (Y/n) nodded, watching Roger intently wondering what he had to ask her

"I've known you for over a decade and I've loved you in different ways through those years, but right now I love you means more than anything, not just as my best friend. Tell me why you think I'm with you and if my love is enough." Roger loved (Y/n) more than words could ever express which is why he needed to know if she truly thought he was with her because of everything that had happened or because he loved her. He needed to know if his love for her was going to be enough for them to get through this.

"Think and feel are different Rog. My head thinks you're with me because of what happened, but my heart knows you wouldn't do that. My heart knows you're here because you love me and that's all I've wanted for ten years, Rog. Don't leave me."

Leaning forward Roger cupped the side of her face before his lips pressed to her own in a feverish kiss. Roger's heart would never allow him to leave (Y/n), he loved her too much for that. He could only just handle one week away because he knew they both needed time away. He needed to know, to feel that security that he was enough. He needed to know that (Y/n) wasn't going to go through with their relationship worrying that if anything bad happened Roger would throw in the towel and be done. He loved her to the ends of the Earth and he loved his children too, this was his family.

"How could I leave you? I love you, silly. Come on, stop crying, we've got a little boy waiting for us."

Reaching out Roger brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, smiling as he pressed another kiss to her lips before gently standing her to her feet so he could also get up. His hand entwining with her own as they made their way out of the room and over to the room containing their baby boy. Both of them glancing at one another before at the nurse who was standing in front of the incubator holding James.

"Is everything okay?" Roger questioned, his head leaning to the side as the nurse looked up at them. A warming smile on her features that showed them that there was nothing worrying or concerning that she needed to talk to them about.

"The doctor has been down to see little James today... and he thinks that if you're ready now, then he can be taken out of the incubator so that you can hold him for the first time."

(Y/n)'s lips pressed inwards creating a thin line as she tried to stop the sob that was about to escape her lips. Her chest seemed to lift upwards as she tried to stay calm, her breath jumping in her throat in absolute ecstasy. Her hand that was holding Roger's tugged on his hand, pulling it hurriedly into her side to make him look over at her. Tears flushed both of their faces as they had been waiting for this moment for a month now. (Y/n) had never had a life she had created be held in her arms, and Roger wasn't used to not being able to hold his child straight away. To be told now that they were finally allowed was breathtaking.

A breathless laugh left Roger's lips before they pressed to (Y/n)'s temple, his hand moving to the back of her head to pull her into his chest. Feeling her free hand grasp at his shirt, needing something to ground her as her tears soaked into his shirt.

"W-we'd really like to hold him. We're ready now." Roger stated, unable to bite back the smile pulling subconsciously at his lips as the nurse looked about ready to start crying too.

"There's a room across the hall that will be more private for you, number three. If you'd like to step in there and get ready, I'll get the doctor to come and give James a once over and then bring him to you." Leaning over Roger quickly stole a glance of James before he and (Y/n) turned around, walking out of the room feeling like they were on cloud nine.

Sitting down on the sofa in the room, (Y/n) turned to look at Roger, seeing he was sat with his hands clasped tightly together. His foot tapping against the floor causing his knee to jolt up and down, knocking his arms in the process. Roger was a drummer, he had a lot of energy and in moments like these, he didn't know what to do with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. They had been waiting for a month to be told that they could hold James, now that the moment was here it didn't seem real.

Leaning over (Y/n) rested her head on Roger's shoulder, feeling his lips pressing to her hair as silence fell over them. They didn't know what to do or what they were meant to say to one another. The pair of them stayed like that for a few minutes as time seemed to dwindle around them, minutes turning into seconds. Both their heads snapped up in the direction of the door when the same nurse walked in. Neither of them feeling able to breathe properly when they looked at the small bundle in her arms that caused Roger's knee to jerk up from a sudden burst of nerves. Reaching out Roger's hand fumbled around for (Y/n)'s, putting it in a death grip when his fingers latched around her hand. There had been a big part of Roger that doubted they would get to this moment, sometimes he thought that it would only happen in his dreams rather than in his reality.

"Okay, whose holding him first?" Her voice was quiet as she stood in front of the sofa the couple were sitting on, her eyes flitting between them both. Watching as Roger let go of (Y/n)'s hand to point to her, his hands gripping his knees to a point he was going to leave indents in his skin.

Each intake of breath (Y/n) managed to take left a rush of adrenaline in her lower chest that felt like something was sparking to life. Her stomach pulling in to try and stop the flurry of butterflies when James was finally settled in her arms. His head rested in the crook of her left elbow, her arm pulling tightly inwards to try and give some support since he was still very small. His fragile, doll-like body rested on her lap as her other hand rested on his lower stomach. Too afraid to move her arms or hands an inch in case it did something to hurt the baby resting in her hold.

"I'll give you all some space if you need anything I'll be just outside."

Shuffling a little closer to (Y/n), Roger gingerly rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes not being able to move away from the little baby resting in her arms. It seemed so surreal to be looking down at James without the layer of glass from the incubator separating them. They were getting to see him in a whole new light as if they were looking at a different image completely.

"Is this real?" (Y/n) whispered, her voice deathly quiet as if speaking louder would disrupt the atmosphere around them. Her question earning a laugh from the drummer sitting beside her.

"I hope so, if not this is the best dream I've ever had."

(Y/n) found herself entranced by James' eyes when they slowly batted open. They were a beautiful sea green shade that was amplified by the light of the room. The couple had marvelled the first time they saw his eyes when they noticed he didn't share their eye colours but still had the most beautiful shade of green they had come across.

Leaning down she gently pressed her lips to James' forehead as he started to wriggle around. Clearly unsure what was happening after being in the incubator for a month to now being placed into someone's arms like this. His eyes wide with wonder as he started to perk up, his eyes locking on Roger making the drummer's heart go into overdrive. As he had to steal a quick breath to stop the sudden lightheadedness from overtaking. Seeing that his eyes were fixed on Roger, (Y/n) turned to her right very slowly before gently moving her arms out to Roger to signal for him to take James.

Holding his breath Roger held out shaking arms as the tears started to well up in his eyes again. This moment was something he had been dreaming of for a month, now it was here he didn't want to do anything that would mess this up. When James was settled in his arms Roger finally managed to take a proper breath. His eyes falling closed as he relished in the feeling he was so sure he would never get to witness. When his eyes finally opened they fixed on his little boy who was still staring up at him with some look of wonder about him. Pressing his right hand to the back of James' head Roger moved his left arm to support him better before ever so gently tilting James upright. Moving him so he was resting to his chest, his head snapping to look at (Y/n) when she reached over. Lightly pulling on his shirt so the buttons came undone, allowing James to rest against Roger's bare chest.

"Skin contact." She mumbled before brushing her hand over James' head, watching the tiny baby curl up against his father's chest. Eyes falling closed as his tiny fist batted against Roger's chest, a small yawn escaping his lips that sent both parent's hearts jumping.

"I think Rosie was right, you know." Roger commented, his voice also quiet as not to disturb the peace surrounding them or the baby resting against his chest. Moving back a little Roger leaned back into the sofa, his hand rubbing up and down James' back very gently as he felt their chests evening out against one another. Moving over (Y/) cuddled up against his side, her chin perching on his shoulder as her eyes narrowed at what he meant. Rosie said a lot of things that stuck in their minds from how weird yet wonderful her mind was and what she came up with. Roger would need to be more specific.

"Hm?"

"When she visited James the first time. I think that magic kiss worked."

[otome-addicts-notsoanonymous]

This is the entry for @letting-them-take-liberties for the fanfic giveaway! Remember, if you want to vote for them you must COMMENT on this post. All the rules for voting as well as the master post of submissions can be found under #fanficgiveawaymaster or here. Other submissions can also be found under #fanficsubmissions.

26. Tending an injury

He should have been used to it by now, hearing the whimpers and the tears that would sometimes stain his kimono, and the way her fingers would latch on to the front of his robes as she tried to sleep off the pain.

But he hadn’t, couldn’t get used to it, even after getting into this… habit of allowing her to lie on top of him so that she could rest and heal properly.

Not when she was suffering for the consequences of his inability to protect those around him.

Guilt had been eating him up ever since she had been struck down by an assassin who had been tasked to kill him. At that time, they were both walking around the area of Hamamatsu Castle, as she had announced to him earlier that day that she had been unable to find the herb he was looking for. Annoyed that he had to go out in the cold just so he could properly show the stupid kitchen wench what the herb in question looked like, he had been rather hostile and curt towards her the whole time they were making their way to the fields. It had only been a few seconds of him turning his back to grab the plant when, upon turning to show to her the herb, she had fallen on him. His initial reaction was to sneer and taunt her for being a weakling who had fainted because she was unable to stand the winter chill… until his eyes gazed upon the back of her light pink kimono, which was slowly turning into a dark crimson.

He could not remember what happened next, other than what Sakai had told him when everything had somewhat calmed down.

How he had been too stunned to move at that time, and how it had been Hattori Hanzou who had subdued the man and the other assassins in the area when they took advantage of him being too shocked to move.

How his retainers had been unable to pry his hands away from her when the others have arrived, as he had actually managed to put enough pressure on the wound to temporarily stop the bleeding, despite him in a daze.

How he had taken it upon himself to bring her to his room and had decided on his own that there would be no need for a doctor, as he would do the work himself, to the horror and amazement of his retainers.

When she started bleeding again as soon as he had laid her down on his futon, he used linen bandages and bound it tightly around her torso to cease the blood flow. He had seen horrific wounds on soldiers, but seeing half of her back raw and open from a diagonal sword wound had made him feeling light-headed.

The attack was meant for him, yet she took the blow and was suffering for it.

Seeing her lying unconscious left him feeling strangely desolate over the fact that a woman had protected him.

Probably in a desperate bid to make sure that she would not suffer in his failure to keep her safe, he cleaned her wound after a few days of binding it. Ieyasu then took it upon himself to stitch her wound shut to lessen the chances of it getting infected. He had seen a number of men dying from both blood loss and infected wounds, and he refused to stand by and watch her die.

Three days later, she was whimpering in her sleep for her father not to leave her side and for Death to claim her already.

The instant he heard about it, he felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him.

The voice in his head had mocked him for doing more harm than good to her, and that he might as well end her misery by letting her die.

The wound he had stitched shut in an attempt to avoid infection had, ironically, become infected in a matter of days. While she was delirious from fever, he had been attempting to lower her temperature with a sponge bath. During that time as well, when he was about to replace the bandages, he had noticed that the wound he had treated a few days ago had turned into an angry red. Wasting no time, he regularly cleaned the infected wound with water that he had drawn from the well and changed the bandages.

He had been having thoughts of her dying ever since she got wounded, but the possibility of it becoming a reality because of his foolish decision to stitch up the wound—

Despite the bleak situation, he found himself laughing.

How could he have ever thought that he had it in him to save her?

He was slowly killing her with his own hands, and right now, it seemed merciful to end her life once and for all, instead of prolonging her suffering.

No doubt, the voice in his head told him, this was her way of blaming him for putting her in the current state she was in, and that she would rather end her suffering than be stuck with him for the rest of her life.

You will not leave me.

If, after all this, she still wanted to leave the clan because of his failures, so be it.

Right now, she was still his retainer, and he was still her lord; he will not allow Death to take her from him that easily.

It had been a task more exhausting than all of the campaigns he had participated in combined. As he did not want anyone involved in the task of nursing her back to health, mostly because of guilt, he took it upon himself to draw buckets of cold water from the well, completely drench a clean strip of linen, and use it to wipe down her feverish body. When the water was not cold enough to his liking, he would proceed to get more water from the well, ignoring the winter chill, and do the same thing over and over again.

At one point, Sakai had told him to get some rest, only for him to glare at his most senior retainer.

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

Sakai Tadatsugu only smiled. “Right now, you have done wonders for her, milord, but you must rest—”

“No.” came the curt reply.

“It would not do well for the lord of the clan to get sick, and you have hardly eaten anything.” Sakai gave him a worried look. “I know Sanae is… not in the condition to serve you meals, but I am sure she will not be happy when she finds out that you have forgotten to eat because of her.”

Trust the old man to say that words that would make him feel even guiltier.

In the end, he had reluctantly allowed Sakai to ask the servants in the castle to prepare a meal for him and bring it up to his room. After the tray was placed in front of him, Ieyasu forced himself to eat the food and downing it with hot tea that nearly burnt his mouth and his tongue.

If he was going to take care of her until her wounds healed, he would need all the nourishment and strength he could get. He could not feel the hunger right now, but he knew that it was better to sate the hunger before it distracted him from what he was doing.

He would make sure that Death would absolute have no chance of taking her away from his side.

He would not allow it.

After an exhausting week of keeping her wound clean and her temperature down, her fever finally broke, and the first thing she did as soon as she opened her eyes was to flash him an exhausted smile and call out his name.

He stopped himself from propping her up from the bedding and holding her in his arms, knowing that her kindness was something that he did not deserve. “… You’re finally awake.” He said, his tone sounding similar to a man who could not be bothered.

Her smile faltered for a split second upon hearing his harsh tone, and the Lord of Mikawa ignored the stab of regret that made its way to his chest, reminding himself that he was the one at fault as to why she was confined to the bedding. While her wound was not infected anymore and her body temperature was back to the way it was, she should not push herself.

“I… guess I am, Ieyasu-sama.”

She sounded so forlorn that he took it as a sign to leave; it was obvious that he was making her feel uncomfortable with his presence. “Don’t move around too much if you want to heal quickly,” was all he said before leaving the room.

That night, he had single-handedly prepared a meal that he was sure would tempt her appetite. To his relief, she had the strength to prop herself up and eat… until for her to stop midway and put the tray down.

“… What’s wrong now?” he managed to ask after he struggled to form the words to ask her why she had suddenly stopped eating. “Was the food that unappetizing?”

She gave him an apologetic smile. “The food is good…” she gave a wistful glance at the tray that she had left on the floor. “It’s just…” at this, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“What now?”

“Ieyasu-sama…” she took a deep breath. “Can you please bring me to the toilet?”

Puzzled at her request, he took her to the toilet anyway; he had barely managed to bring her in time just before she threw up everything she had eaten.

While she had assured him that she was probably not well enough to keep down the food he had made, in his mind, it did not seem that way to him. She could have simply told him a lie, as she was too polite to outwardly reject him, and that she was actually disgusted with the food she had eaten.

Countless times before, he had rejected the meals she had prepared him without so much as a reason why, and recently started to reluctantly eat the meals she had prepared, if only to shut her up. He ate her food with an impassive look on his face as not to give her any hint with just how satisfied he was, and would proceed to critique and pinpoint every single thing that was wrong with it.

In her case, she ate his cooking without complaint, but when she had put down the tray and heaved it all out of her system… she might as well have slapped him on the face.

As he had been sleep-deprived for the past few days, he had actually forgotten the fact that sick people would not be able to eat properly, and that they needed something light and nutritious to help them regain their appetite.

How could he have missed that?

Seems like I’m the one killing her now, he thought bitterly as he took the uneaten tray of food after helping her back to her bedding. Just before she had lied back down on her side as not to disrupt the healing of her wound, he had asked her if she wanted to eat something else, only for her to shake her head.

“I’m not hungry right now, Ieyasu-sama. I’ll just go to sleep.” Her response was neutral, and yet, it alarmed him enough that it took a minute for him to calm his nerves.

She was rejecting him, and he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

The him before the incident would have been glad that she would stop annoying him and getting all clingy because she wanted his opinion on her cooking, but now… feelings that he never knew he had were hitting him in full force that it was difficult for him to comprehend what was happening.

She hated his cooking… hated it so much that she threw it all up in the hopes of making it look like she had no appetite.

It made no sense for him to be feeling so down over it, and yet…

Clenching his fists, he took the tray of uneaten food and left the room once more, unable to comprehend why he was feeling so dejected.

On the third week of her confinement, he found her crying silently on the bedding, though as soon as he had made his presence known, she had hastily wiped her tears before forcing a smile on her face.

“Ieyasu-sama.” Just before she could attempt to get up, sit on her calves, and bow at him, he stopped her by holding out a hand.

“Don’t bother, can’t stand to see you looking so pathetic and in pain.” Inwardly, he winced at his choice of words, but knew that he was deserving of all her hatred.

She nearly lost her life because of him.

“Understood. Forgive me for being unable to…” she winced as she shifted slightly on the bedding, trying to adjust her position.

“As I’ve said, don’t force yourself.” He reminded her, and she nodded slowly. “As long as you don’t move too much, you’ll be fine.”

“… Yes, but it’s so hard to sleep…” she sighed heavily, her lips curving downward into a frown. “You keep telling me not to lie on my side too much… but I’ve always been a side sleeper so—”

He masked the feeling of dread with a sarcastic smile. “Aww, are you asking me to cuddle and hold you tight while you sleep?”

Ieyasu meant for his statement to be simply that, albeit a sarcastic one. And yet, he found himself saying out loud, “But if you insist, wench, I will allow you to be selfish just this once and I will allow you to lie on top of me and hold you while we both sleep. After all, you did save my life, and because of you, my quest to unify this country will continue.”

Upon seeing her puzzled look, he chuckled. “I am giving you the option to opt out—”

“I couldn’t possibly impose, Ieyasu-sama. You’ve… you’ve made so much effort to accommodate me. Please, just let me—” before he could even lost his nerve and run away from his own challenge, he found himself sitting down on her bedding and lying down next to her. “W-w-w-what are you—”

“It’s too cold, and I need a heat source. You’re perfect as a warm body that I can hold while I sleep.”

“W-w-wha—”

“I will not repeat myself.” He hissed at her, his tone angry, in order to mask his embarrassment at the boldness of what he had suggested. Even after saying those words, he still felt self-conscious and overwhelmed; for those words to easily slip out of his lips as if it were nothing serious, it shocked him.

To add more to his shock, wordlessly, she had not-so-gracefully climbed on top of him, her hands grasping his shoulders in order to get herself to lie on him. Much to his private relief, she did not look uncomfortable at the… peculiar sleeping arrangement that he suggested; on the contrary, she sighed when she proceeded to place her head on his chest, making him blush at the rather intimate contact.

It was a good thing that with her position right now, as she would be unable to see him blushing like a child whose first love had confessed her feelings for him.

When she started adjusting herself into a more comfortable position, her hips pressing against his own, he felt his eyes widen in surprise before hissing, “Stop moving so much!”

“S-sorry.” She mumbled. “T-trying to find a… c-comfy—”

”… Yes, and you’re making me uncomfortable with what you’re doing.“ He said blandly, hoping that she wouldn’t notice that a part of him was slowly becoming stiff.

The kitchen wench, however, really did not let anything go unnoticed. ”… Is that a dagger I feel on my hip?“

“I’ll stab you with it if you don’t shut up.” He hissed angrily, making her jolt from the coldness of his tone. While he did not want to scare her, the wench was really testing both his patience and his self-control.

… And he was afraid of what he was capable of doing when his mind gets clouded with lust.

“M-my apologies, Ieyasu-sama. I shall have to settle for this position then.”

When she placed the top of her head on the crook of his neck and sighed deeply, he took it as his cue to blow out the candle and settle in for the night.

The first one to take note of their sudden change in sleeping arrangements was, surprisingly, Sakakibara Yasumasa.

One afternoon, just after he had managed to get her to eat some porridge mixed with sleeping draught to help her rest, Sakakibara had opened the sliding doors to the room to hand over a letter. Amongst the clan, only a handful of people knew that it was her who was injured, and that he was taking care of her. The rest, on the other hand, had assumed it was the other way around.

Sakakibara had also thought it was the other way around.

Which was why, upon opening the sliding doors and seeing his lord looking rather nonchalant with the wench sleeping on his chest, even the snarkiest general of the Tokugawa army was rendered speechless at what he had just seen.

“… The last thing I expected would be the wench in the same room as you.”

Ieyasu shrugged one shoulder. “What do you want, Sakakibara? I assume you’re not here to see my condition and report about it to Sakai.”

With him currently taking care of Sanae until she was well enough to go back to her duties both as his retainer and his personal chef, he had tasked Sakai to take over for him during war council meetings in the guise of being injured and recovering from the ‘wound’ he received. With Sakakibara now running around the castle to hand him a letter, he figured that his most senior retainer was too busy to do it himself.

“The rumors are true then.” Yasumasa remarked. “It’s her who’s actually injured, and not you.”

“She was exactly where she shouldn’t have been, which is why she got cut down instead of me.” Another shrug. “It’s a pain to go through finding another chef, so I figured I might as well try and save her.”

“I see.” Sakakibara’s tone, however, sounded like he was not convinced with the explanation.

As if to make his point, he gave out an exaggerated sigh. “Idiots who can’t even protect themselves getting hurt and placing the burden on others… can’t believe this is happening to me. I would’ve been able to handle it without her.”

The lie had been so easy to say out loud.

While she was burning with fever and muttering for Death to take her, Hanzou, sensing that his master was beating himself up over her condition, had told him time and again that the plan to assassinate him had been so carefully planned that the first strike that had cut her down was not the only thing that his enemies had planned. If he had actually survived the first one, there were four more who would chase him down and gut him open until he was dead.

Sanae, in Hanzou’s words, had been the ‘collateral damage’ in an effort to keep him safe, which had angered him to no end.

She shouldn’t have protected him.

It was still difficult for him to accept the fact that she had done this out of the goodness of her own heart.

It was stupid of her to do so, and yet, he couldn’t think of any other reason.

He handed back the letter to Yasumasa after scanning the contents. “Tell Sakai I’ll see him tomorrow morning to discuss this with him.” With another bow, the male retainer left the room and closed the doors.

She was angry at him, and he did not know why.

Last night, she had wordlessly eaten the porridge he had prepared, and just when he was about to open his mouth to ask her how her day went, she had the nerve to ask if it was possible for her to sleep in a separate bedding, which did not sit well with him.

… Not that he was desperate for her to lie in his arms all the time, but he felt more at ease with the current sleeping arrangements. Ieyasu would know immediately if something had happened to her, and if she needed help, he would be able to spring into action.

While he was well-aware that she was already out of danger, with her wound finally closing up and her stitches were to be removed the day after tomorrow (he had been persuaded by Sakai to at least call for a proper doctor for the stitches to be removed), he could not help but be worried that there was still a chance for her to succumb to a fever and die from whatever unknown infection that was lying in wait.

When he arrogantly informed her that the sleeping arrangements could not be changed to cater to her whims, she had the nerve to actually walk out of his room, a first for her since she had been confined, and made her way back to her room to sleep in her own bedding.

As for him, he had no choice but to try and keep himself warm, despite the fact that he had two layers of woolen blankets to fight off the chill. Suffice to say, he did not sleep well at all last night, and had been in an awful mood the moment he chose to get up from bed and preside over the war council. It had only been yesterday since he was back to attending meetings, but he had managed to catch up on everything, all thanks to Sakai.

With that out of the way, there was still one aspect in his life that had to be fixed… and fast.

That afternoon, after he had been informed by Sakai that the doctor had arrived and had been led to his room where she and the doctor were waiting for him, the removal of the stitches began… along with the doctor admonishing him for what he had done in order to close up her wound.

“Should I actually be grateful that you vaguely knew what you were doing? I don’t think so.” tsked the old man, who was also a personal friend of Sakai. “You may have helped close the wound, but I wouldn’t be surprised if, at one point, the wound got infected and she had succumbed to a fever.”

Still, he said nothing, neither confirming nor denying the accusation, choosing instead of keep his expression neutral, as if he had no idea what the older man was talking about.

“… if there’s one thing you did right, you managed to keep her alive long enough for me to remove the stitching.” continued the doctor.

Thankfully, she had managed to interrupt the conversation and prevented the doctor from reprimanding him further from his recklessness. “W-will it scar though…?” she asked in a nervous tone.

“It already did.” The doctor lamented. “But not to worry; it’s not as bad as it looks. In time, it will fade.”

Trust the old man to point out that on her skin was proof of his inability to protect her from his shortcomings. From her upper back down to the middle of her torso was a thin, red line… and even if he was sitting far away from her to give it a closer look, he could feel the dread burning within him.

Though it may be hidden from his view, at the back of his mind, he knew it would always be there to remind him that he was too weak to prevent that attack from happening.

Right after the doctor was done removing the threads, the old man had handed him a small can. “My lord, I will leave you some salve. Apply it on her wound whenever there’s discomfort.” Upon hearing the doctor’s advice, she actually had the nerve to glare at him, as if to tell him that he had no business in getting involved with her any further, something that he ignored.

“After applying to the wound, leave it to dry on the skin for at least half an hour before getting dressed once more.” He nodded at her. “My lady, please take care and take it easy until you are fully healed. My lord, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I-I’m not a—” before she could even protest over being called by the wrong title, the doctor was out of the door.

As for him, he did not know whether to be amused or annoyed that the doctor has assumed that they were a couple.

If Sakai had anything to do with it, he would definitely pull out all of the old man’s hair in one go.

“That old man is getting ahead of himself.” He muttered under his breath.

“Ieyasu-sama.”

He was too preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not notice her until she was standing in front of him. Immediately, he put on a mask of indifference, despite the fact that his heart was doing otherwise.

“Would you please hand over the salve? I will ask Umeko-san to apply it for me if the itchiness gets unbearable.” She held out her hand.

“No.” he glared at her.

“And why not?” despite the calm response, he could see the anger etched on her face.

“Because other than the doctor, I am not allowing anyone else to see nor touch your wound until you’re fully healed.” He stated.

“But I am healed! Weren’t the stitches removed just now?” while he wanted to throttle her for being so stubborn, he knew he could not do such.

Sometimes, her fighting spirit amused him to no end, but today was not one of those days. Why couldn’t she just listen to him?

“You’re not the one who gets to decide if you’re healed or not.” He told her harshly.

The anger in her eyes said it all… and he was actually afraid of what she would say until she simply sighed and shook her head in resignation.

“Fine.”

Inwardly, he sighed in relief.

It was a hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless.

He had to figure out why she had become so cold to him, or risk losing her.

Days later, just when he thought she would be more accepting of her situation (he had managed to persuade her to stay in his room until he deemed otherwise, one of the perks of being the lord of the clan), he found her with Toramatsu, the latter waiting for her while she was in the middle of lowering her kimono to show him the place where the medicine was supposed to be applied.

Ieyasu knew he had no right to get angry over it, as both of them had no hold over the other, but the fact that she had actually called upon his page to help her apply the salve while he was busy with the meetings… it left him seething on the inside.

Did he not make it clear enough that only he could check upon her while she was on the mend?

“Toramatsu.” Upon hearing his name, his page turned around and bowed at him. “I’ll take it over from here.”

His page was out of the room even before she could utter a word of protest.

Upon realizing that she was stuck with him until he applied the salve, she gave out a long-winded sigh and undid her clothing without blinking an eye, startling him. While he had endlessly mocked her by saying that he felt nothing over seeing her naked for the past few weeks, it had been half-true.

With her slowly recovering from her injury, it had been a struggle for him to calm himself whenever she laid down on top of him. A part of him hurt, but he ignored it all, focusing instead on steadying his hold on her waist so that she wouldn’t strain her back and thought back on everything that he considered repulsive in order for the erection to die down. She had caught him once in that state of need, on the very first night he brought up their unusual sleeping arrangements, and despite downplaying it, he found himself threatening to ‘stab her’, but not in the way she thought it would be.

The need for him to bury himself in her… right now was not the time for such, nor would she be ready for it.

He sat across from her, ignoring the fact that she was exposing her upper half to him. “Did you just asked my page to put salve on your back?” it had been difficult to keep the disbelief from his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

Not when she looked like she was eager to remove her clothing when Toramatsu was there, and how she looked like she was facing her doom when he entered the room.

She shrugged. “You were busy, and Toramatsu was not.”

“You couldn’t be bothered to wait?” he asked, irritated.

“What’s it to you?” she asked hotly, her eyes flashing with anger. “You’re the one who told Sakakibara-sama that I’m a burden to you. You should’ve left me to die if I was such a pain to take care of.”

If it was possible to beat his old self for saying the most asinine statements about her, he would do so in a heartbeat. Instead, he hid his hands inside his sleeves and clenched his fists, trying to calm himself, even though her words were hitting close to home.

Her telling him point blank that he should have let her die… he felt his façade breaking at her words.

How dare she say that?

“Besides, you said it yourself: you feel nothing when I’m half-naked in front of you, so what makes Toramatsu-kun any diff—”

He had never been the type who was good at saying what he felt; he either wrote it down, or he covered it up with the most vicious statements he could think of, only for him to regret it midway.

This time around, he knew he couldn’t say anything, as he did not trust himself to say the right things at this particularly critical time.

And so, he did what he thought was best in order to calm his raging emotions and her angry outburst: he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

She struggled to get away from him at first, but he held on tight, not wanting her to get away until they were both calm and level-headed to talk. For now, all he wanted to do was hold her in her arms and reassure himself that she was alive, she was breathing, and that she was most likely to slap him after he pulled away.

And so, he put some distance between them, buried his face on the crook of her neck and held her tight, unsure of how he was going to proceed.

“Ieyasu-sama, am I… a burden to you?”

The hesitancy in her tone made him answer right away. “No, you are not.”

“Then why did you… why did you say those things to Sakakibara-sama?”

He was not surprised to know that she may have listened in on the conversation between him and one of his generals, but Ieyasu figured that the sooner she knew the sentiment behind his words, the better it would be for the both of them.

She had to know sooner or later.

Pulling away from her momentarily, he looked into her eyes and said, “Because a failure like me had nearly gotten you killed.”

What was he saying?

Try as she might to make sense of his words, nothing came to her mind at all.

He had sounded so flippant and nonchalant during the time he was talking to Sakakibara, even going as far as to tell the man who disliked her the most that she was a burden, and that he was only keeping her alive because he did not want to bother looking for a replacement chef.

Now, however…

“What are you saying?” she whispered. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Why do you think you’re in this state?” he gave out a cynical laugh. “It might as well been me who had cut you down and killed you.”

“Ieyasu-sama, it was not your fault.” She began, feeling distressed over the fact that he was blaming himself for what had happened. “It was my choice to protect you, and not anyone else’s.”

When the desolate look on his face persisted, she found herself speaking in an attempt to persuade him not to blame himself for what she thought, at that time, was the best thing to do. “Look, Ieyasu-sama, I’m simply just a chef. I’m not like the others who are of use to you in the battlefield. If it had been Sakakibara-sama or Tadakatsu-sama who had gotten hurt, that would have been the worst case scenario for the clan in the midst of this war. They’re your strongest generals in the clan, right? Compared to them, and the rest of your retainers, I am replaceable. After all, you all managed to get everything together, even before I got here and—”

“… The hell did you just say?”

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if what she had said was the right thing to do.

The look of desolation had now been replaced by fury, and immediately, she had the urgency to run far, far away from him.

“I—” it had been some time since she had felt some sort of fear towards the lord of the clan, but while before, she had feared him before because of his ruthlessness, now she feared him because she had no idea what she had done to anger him. “I-Ieyasu-sama—”

In a split second, she had found herself on her back, and while the impact had made her wince because of her wound, Sanae was more concerned with the man who loomed over her. In order to keep her from trying to get up and run away from him, he pinned her down by her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.

What surprised her was when he demanded her not to look at him as he buried his face on the side of her neck, she instantly felt hot tears on her shoulder.

The light-hearted teasing she had in mind to ease the tension between them failed to escape her lips as she heard him speak once more.

“How dare you… do you really think so lowly of yourself that you wanted to die? Or are you so disgusted with me that you would rather die than be in my service?”

What is he saying…?

For his voice to tremble like that… she felt as if she had done the gravest mistake in her life.

“‘Replaceable’? Is that how you see yourself?” he laughed bitterly. “You were unconscious and burning with fever during the time I was losing my mind, wondering about a ‘what if I didn’t try and stitch that wound to keep it from getting infected’ scenario.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that stupid thing and let the wound repair itself… but I was so afraid of…” at this, she felt him shake his head, as if dreading the scenario that his mind had came up with. “But when you pulled through, I… I thought everything would turn out alright.

“For you to tell me that you are ‘replaceable’, and that it was better that it was you who got cut down… how dare you say that to my face.”

The guilt was weighing him down, she was sure of it.

How many times had she seen him looking so grim whenever he had to apply the salve on her back? She had dismissed it as the face of someone who didn’t want to do a task so degrading, but now that he was confessing everything to her…

Ieyasu-sama…

The burden that he alone had to shoulder because of the guilt… it hurt her.

“Crying on a woman’s shoulder…” another bitter laugh. “How low will I go this time?”

If she had to be honest, she was too stunned to even respond.

No one knew what had actually happened to her after she had been cut down, save for him. According to Sakai-sama and Toramatsu-kun, Ieyasu-sama had been the one who single-handedly took care of her from the very start. While she could hardly believe that he had been able to do such, as the lord of the clan was a busy man, he himself had confirmed all of the doubts she had.

And the doctor… he did mention that it was Ieyasu-sama who had stitched her wound shut, and even reprimanded him about it.

For him to rely on no one… it was an amazing feat that only he could accomplish.

A soft snore on her right shoulder should not have surprised her, and yet, it still did. It seemed like the exhaustion has taken its toll on him, and Sanae figured that there would be no talking for tonight at least.

There was always tomorrow.

With his grip on her shoulders now loose, she had managed to grab the thick winter blanket that had been discarded beside them, and was just about done draping it over her lord’s body when the sliding doors opened, revealing Sakai Tadatsugu.

“Ieyasu-sama, pardon me but—” seeing Ieyasu slumped over her had made the senior retainer blush, especially since their positions right now did look rather… compromising. “M-My apologies, I-I will come back in the morning…! G-good night, Sanae-dono!” after a quick bow, Sakai closed the doors, though she could have sworn that she saw a smile on the elderly man’s face.

As much as she wanted to ask for the older man’s help in putting Ieyasu-sama in his bed, she knew she couldn’t. In the midst of their argument, the can of salve had been laid forgotten in the frenzy, especially since he had pinned her down on the tatami. Aside from that, she had been topless the moment he had sat across from her in preparation of applying the salve… and was still topless until now.

Feeling her cheeks flame at the thought of exposing herself to her lord far longer than necessary, she tried to sleep off the embarrassment.

Needless to say, she was unable to properly sleep at all.

The sun was shining early that winter morning, and as much as she wanted to get up and start her day, she couldn’t. Tokugawa Ieyasu, lord of the clan, was still sleeping, and no matter how many times she tried to push him off, it had been impossible. Not only that, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him up, especially since he was sleeping so soundly.

Unconsciously, she began running her fingers through his hair, feeling its softness. While she was well aware that Ieyasu-sama never really liked being touched, just this once, she knew she had to take advantage of the moment.

This was the man who blamed himself, all because she had gotten hurt.

This was the man who had confessed his fears to her, all because he thought she wouldn’t make it.

This was the man who made time for her in order for her to recover and regain her strength.

“… The hell are you doing?” came the groggy response on her right.

He was up and awake, and the first thing she noticed was how puffy his eyes were, all because of the crying he did last night.

As if sensing where her eyes were aimed, he glared at her from where he laid as he used his arm to prop himself up. “Where the hell are you looking at?”

Good morning to you too, Ieyasu-sama, she said to herself, struggling not to laugh as he began an early-morning tirade about how rude it was of her to forget what he had said yesterday about not looking at him. Despite the puffiness, she still found him rather handsome.

So distracted was she over his looks, most especially his eyelashes, that when he asked her if she was listening, she had actually gave him a blank look, irritating him further.

“I said, are you listening—”

Before she could stop herself, she sent a quick prayer for her own safety, sat up, and kissed him on the lips.

Even she had no idea what possessed her to kiss him all of a sudden; all she wanted to know was if he was as passionate as the man who had kissed her yesterday, and to her own surprise, he responded to her kisses as he ran a hand on her back, his fingertips lightly tracing the scar. Immediately, she felt goosebumps on her skin at the innocent yet sensual touch, but ignored it, concentrating instead on how to divest him of his clothing so she could touch him as well.

In the course of their kissing, he had actually managed to sit her on his lap, her legs folded underneath her on one side as she sat between his legs. As he parted her mouth and began sucking her tongue, she found herself moaning at the new sensation, though it did not distract her from yanking his top down his shoulders, making him shudder as the cold air touched his naked skin. Momentarily, he pulled away from her, his breathing heavy, as did hers.

“I—” before she could utter another word, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, pulling her closer as his chest pressed against her naked breasts, making her moan at the contact.

“Ieyasu-sa—MA!!!”

Immediately, she felt him move his body in an attempt to cover her from whoever it was that interrupted them. With his back now facing the person who had opened the sliding doors, she was both embarrassed and horrified to find out that it had been Sakai-sama who had barged in.

… And she had actually forgotten what he said last night about visiting Ieyasu-sama in the morning.

Before she could contemplate on what she should say, Ieyasu-sama had beaten her to it.

“Sakai, get out.”

A loud bang was heard as the sliding door made contact with the frame; Sanae figured that Sakai-sama had also been embarrassed upon seeing them in a state of… half-undressed, which was why the door had been slammed shut and the old man had left without any words of farewell aimed at any of them.

“That old man… I’m gonna turn him bald the next time I see him.” absent-mindedly, he slipped her kimono back on her body before fixing his own, murder evident in his eyes.

“I-Ieyasu-sama, I don’t think—” when he turned to look at her, she felt her face flame. “I-I think you should leave Sakai-sama alone… h-he didn’t meant to, and I-I forgot to tell you that he wanted to speak to you last night, but you were sleeping already so—”

He raised an eyebrow at what she had told him. “Sakai visited last night? How dare he—” before she could try and reassure him that there was no need for him to hunt down the elderly man, he was on his feet and exiting the door, but not before giving her a peck on the lips. “Don’t let anyone in here. Wait for me to get back and I’ll put more salve on your back.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was no longer feeling any pain nor itch from her scar, but figured that if he wanted to be of help to her, she should just let him.

For now, she would just have to hope and pray that Ieyasu-sama wouldn’t be too harsh on his most loyal and most senior retainer.

Sakai-sama, I’m so sorry… I’ll make you the best tea yet after this…!

“As long as you will allow me to stay by your side… I will wait for you.”

She figured that what she said had startled him, for his crimson-colored eyes widened in surprise upon hearing her words.

“So please… let me stay with you.”

“… Do what you want.” Despite sounded so detached, she knew that she had won him over, as she noticed his face turning a light pink from embarrassment.

“And… another thing.” When he said nothing, she continued. “Please allow me to continue our previously-interrupted sleeping arrangement.”

“And why would you think I would allow you to do that?” despite the smirk on his lips, his tone had been playful.

“Don’t you agree that we both sleep better that way?” she asked him, smiling. “And as you have said… you need a heat source. The winter in Hamamatsu is becoming particularly this time of year, and I do need a heat source to keep my warm as well.”

He sighed dramatically. “Such a demanding retainer. I should put you in your place once I’m done dealing with Sakai.”

“If you say so, Ieyasu-sama.” As she watched his retreating back in search of the older man who had interrupted them, Sanae found herself smiling once more, glad that despite the pain and the misunderstandings, she and Ieyasu-sama’s relationship had turned out to be better than she expected.

Despite everything she went through, she was thankful that the incident had led them to become closer… and that it gave her a chance to let her feelings known to the man who had done everything possible to keep her alive.

As long as he would allow her, she would stay by his side and support him in whatever way she can.

For now, she would have to wait until he was back so that he could treat her injury… and they could probably continue where they left off before Sakai-sama had interrupted them.

My apologies if it took too long and if it dragged on and on.

Honestly, I had so many ideas for this fic, but decided to settle for the one that I think would fit both Ieyasu’s and Ieyasu’s MC’s personalities.

I am a bit satisfied with what I wrote, and I am kind of getting the hang of the Japanese honorifics, as I have been playing KoiRan nonstop ever since the ‘comeback event’ featuring Ieyasu and MC’s First Night together. Hopefully, I can keep on writing, and I hope my writing would become more consistent.

Again, thank you for reading all the way to the end. I hope you enjoyed it!

[dj-yukio]

EAD: Childhood memories

“Right, so talk.”

Kurotsuno rolled her eyes at the pure crudeness of the other girl’s request. Of course she would insist that they have this conversation. The whole set up was even perfect: get her a little drunk, make sure she couldn’t think straight, and then push for the information. How did she not notice?

And they were all alone. Ah shit. She really didn’t feel like going through this now.

But before she could even open her mouth to protest, Hanten grabbed her tie and tugged on it.

“Nope. Don’t even think about getting out of this. You had years to think over this, now start talking.”

So she took a deep breath, trying to see how she could best illustrate what she remembered.

————————

She was four.

That was a point in her life when she was ill, deathly sick even, she believed. The memories of that time were hazy, almost as if it was covered in thick fog, but whether the reason was because she was sick and young then or because the memory had been suppressed, she had no idea. Nevertheless, she remembered the shouting and the screaming, mostly incoherent to her in her feverish daze.

Of course, it wasn’t like the shouting had just started, however. It had been happening for a few months before, way before she was even sick. They would shout about grown up things that she didn’t understand but knew it was probably very important, whatever a ‘di-force’ and a ‘chit-ting’ was, for both of them to be so angry.

But no matter what, they always smiled whenever she went over to them. Pretended that everything was alright, even though the sweat and strained smiles on their faces suggested otherwise, and refused to tell her about the grown up things they’d screamed at each other for in front of her, only engaging in it when they’d thought she had gone to bed.

At least, until that day, when she was turning about in her bed under the blanket that felt burning hot from her own fever, she could hear them shout outside her room. Even with her headache pounding through her skull, she could see papa standing there. Mama must have been standing behind the wall, she reasoned, or else he wouldn’t be standing there doing nothing.

Then she saw him turn to glance at her and quickly closed her eyes, wanting to know more about the adult things that they were talking about. She couldn’t do that if he was just going to smile and pretend everything was alright after all, right?

Suddenly, there was a loud slam, making young Olivia jump and grip onto the blanket even tighter. Her eyes were still closed, but she could faintly make out a soft squelching sound before footsteps went down the stairs. She pulled the blanket over her head, a feeling of fear suddenly overwhelming her, though for what reason she had no idea of. A few minutes later, she felt a hand touch the top of her blanket and gently shake her.

“Olivia? Are you awake?”

Wanting to pretend that she had been asleep the whole time, she didn’t budge for a while before pulling the blanket off her head. The warning bells in her feverish head were going off, giving her a major headache as she sat up to face papa who was sitting at the edge of her bed. He was just holding a bowl, yet, she still felt rather scared of him for no reason, and pushed it aside as she watched him lift the spoon.

There was a big lump on the spoon, that she noticed. What was it, soup? A really, really red soup, though. And it smelt weird too.

Papa seemed to notice and smiled at her before pushing the spoon towards her mouth. “Here, I got some medicine for you. It’ll make you feel much better tomorrow, I promise.”

She should have figured out what it was by then, but she was much too young to understand the true implication of the whole event back then.

So she stared at it, still not quite trusting of it. Surely it wasn’t something disgusting, like a red version of green peppers, right? And it was papa, who wouldn’t do anything to her.

So she begrudgingly opening her mouth, allowing him to push the spoon and its contents in. It felt weird, like it was some kind of meat, but much more chewy. Maybe it was a stew? What kind of stew was it?

She allowed herself to question what kind of meat stew it was for it to be medicine as papa continued to feed her, and before she knew it, he was tucking her into bed, softly whispering before giving her a kiss on the forehead as she giggled, the stew medicine thing making her feel much better already.

“Papa will make all the pain go away, I promise.”

It made her sick to the stomach as she remembered how the blood had dripped from the spoon as he fed her the ‘medicine’.

———————

“Oh, that’s fu-“

“Shut it. So I ate my mom. Not my fault.” Kurotsuno growled a bit before calming down. There was no use getting mad at the person when he wasn’t there. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”

Hanten only raised a brow before opening another can of beer and pouring it out for both of them.

“So it isn’t. Go on.”

———————

She was five.

Now, it was just the two of them. The old house had been sold off, and their new house was somewhere really dark and dreary.

Though, that was kind of to be expected of a place called Pitch Black World. Would be kind of ironic if the place was all sunshine and rainbows for shits and giggles.

It was a nice big house, and she loved running around the house. It was a nice big space, and there was lots of empty dusty rooms to explore for her. It was a much too big house for the two of them after mama had left, as papa had said. And she could do almost anything in the house which only came with one rule:

She could never leave the house.

The door was to be locked at all times. The windows were all bolted, and the curtains in the room that she was in were to be drawn. He claimed it was for her protection, but now, she wondered if it was because he wanted her to never find out what became of her mother.

Now that she looked back, she should have seen that the big house was but a prison. Certainly one that was well furnished and meant to keep out intruders, but still a prison.

But young Olivia didn’t realise or care about that. She was much too eager to fill the gap that was left by her mother leaving to care that she was essentially stuck in a lie, a whole bunch of lies. She tried to be on her best behaviour, tried to please him as much as she could, like a dog trying its hardest to get a treat from its master. After all, there was no one else for her except him and herself.

And what had he done? He left her alone, a five year old child, alone at home, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. Sure, it was undeniable that he came home to spend time with her, and she wouldn’t be so cruel to lie and say they weren’t close in those times, but it was always work first, daughter second. How many times had she been pushed aside for something else, because that coward refused to put his foot down on those rare off days? If he had made some semblance of an effort trying to keep the family that he himself had destroyed, perhaps he would still be redeemable in her eyes. Instead, he came home reeking of the stench that she had only recently become accustomed to thanks to a certain someone that was sitting next to her and was completely incoherent during those times.

———————

“I’m right here you know.”

“Now you know why I detested these things originally.”

“And you never bothered to tell me?”

“It’s all in the past. Besides, what would that have accomplished? It’s not like you would stop drinking if I just told you.”

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised at the things I would have done for ya back then.” She picked up her mug, closing her eyes to savour the taste of the drink before plopping it back down. “But that’s not the point. So, go on.”

———————

That was how it was for two years. Just her, trying to hold their family together in spite of his schedule and decisions.

It was so difficult, managing to stay sane while in the confines of her house, unable to get out.

Then sanity came in the form of a demon who had crawled through the chimney. Her first friend ever since he had trapped her.

She didn’t know if it was symbolic that she was to forget the name of her first friend here and would only retain the vague memories of her.

———————

“You had a friend here? Who was it?”

Kurotsuno huffed, her eyes flitting to the side as she tried to remember. “...Don’t know. She had red eyes-“

“A lot of demons have red eyes. Some angels too.”

“And white hair. I don’t remember her name, but that’s all past. Happy now?”

Hanten paused to consider her, her face having a rather passive look before looking away. “Happy. How coincidental, in fact, but that’s none of my business. Continue.”

“...” She looked down at that. “...I don’t want to continue.”

“Oh?” Though she couldn’t see how the other looked, she could tell that she was curious. “Why not?”

“You already know all of this.” She paused for a bit, turning to glance at the other girl. “You already know all of this. So why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know about-“

Kurotsuno cut her off. “Let me rephrase that. You know about these from other places for sure, and

“Lies to me, traps me against my damn will-“

“Calm down-“

“-acts like nothing even happened-“

“-and then he has the nerve to play the victim card!”

“Kuro-“

She punched Hanten in the gut, forcing a gasp out of her. She’d have to keep in mind to apologise later, but for now, it felt good to let all the boiling anger out on someone. “And you want me to take the high road and just forgive him?”

“I’m just wasting my breath on you. What do you even understand, anyway.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive him.”

“Of course I wouldn’t understand how it feels to lose something important to me like a mom.” It was clear that Hanten was resisting the urge to roll her eyes from how annoyed she looked. “My mom’s alive, obviously. My old man’s not an idiot like yours. But it’s not going to do either of us good if you keep comparing my family to yours.”

“

Sanity, she believed, arrived in the form of a curious demon holding a knife who wanted to explore the supposedly big empty house.

It had been Christmas, and she had been waiting for the legendary Santa to make his way down the chimney, much to papa’s amusement as he agreed to let her watch the chimney for the night before he himself went to bed, mumbling about how the chimney was much to narrow for anyone to fit in in the first place.

Then again, in his defence, he couldn’t possibly have predicted that that particular day, a young child would be going down the chimney to enter their house.

It had been a great surprise and lesson for her that apparently dustpans didn’t make great kidnapping weapons, and that the girl in the chimney, even though she had white hair once she got the soot off her head, was not Santa.

Weird white haired girl rubbed her head at the spot where she had whacked her. “...so this isn’t an empty house.”

Olivia shook her head, wondering if that was a question directed at her. Chimney demon swore, before taking a good look at her and stashing her knife away.

“You’re weird.”

She made a brief indignant sound at that before the other girl shook her head to establish that that wasn’t quite what she meant.

“You’re... not one of us, I mean. Don’t look like a ghost either. That’s interesting. What are you?”

She shrugged at that. Even she didn’t quite know the answer then. Did it matter what she was? She was Olivia.

Demon girl was seemed all the more interested at that. With an air of nonchalance, she stuck out her still sooty hand towards her, giving a name that she had long forgotten.

She stared at the outstretched hand, wondering if she ought to take it. Technically, papa never said she couldn’t make friends with demons that went down the chimney and didn’t knock on the door.

So, with much rigour, she took the other girl’s hand and shook it hard, not realising that her life had been spared only because the other was much too fascinated with her to stab her.

“Olivia.”

That day was the day that both girls got a secret friend.

And for once, the house didn’t seem so empty anymore.

At least for three years, anyway.

——————————

She once wondered if her mom would still be alive if she had intervened more. Now that she had reflected on it, though, it seemed that the only reason their marriage had been surviving up till then was due to both being very reluctant to leave their dying child alone. One girl that was down with an unconventional illness.

Maybe if she had died back then, mom would still be alive.

—————

She had loved him. She had adored the dad that she had created in her naive little mind with what limited knowledge she knew about him. She reasoned with herself that he was doing it for the both of them,

And now she wondered if he had been doing it for himself from the start.

There were so many reasons that she could hate him for.

[arianaofimladris]

Mistakes

Chapter 1 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177132346092/mistakes

Chapter 2 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177159697417/mistakes

Chapter 3 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177206403712/mistakes

Chapter 4 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177375468317/mistakes

Chapter 5 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177520433452/mistakes

Chapter 6

The next day and a half was one feverish dream. Whatever Alcarino gave him, it sent Amras to sleep for the night and most of the following day. He barely remembered the moments when he woke. Every time there was Celegorm or Caranthir sitting by him and forcing him to answer their questions he did not remember later. But they let him sleep and didn’t touch his leg, so Amras wasn’t about to complain.

The second day he felt well enough to sit up and eat a proper meal. Later Alcarino changed his dressings, but didn’t bother him for long. Before he left, he closed the curtains and Amras was grateful for the dimness. Despite Alcarino’s herbs, his head was still pounding, but it was bearable in peace and darkness. Amras was drifting half asleep, but as the doors opened, he glanced at them, fully awake.

“How’s your head?” asked Maedhros quietly. He was wearing a cloak as if he was about to leave, and he had a map and a leather tube in his arms.

“Usually better,” muttered Amras, but he dragged himself up to sit. “But at least I no longer see you in double,” he sent his brother a crooked smile.

“Good, because I want to show you something before I go to Nolofinwe.” Maedhros sat down on the bed, confirming Amras’s suspicions. He placed the map on his knees, one of those Amras had made the previous Summer when they had gone exploring Eastern lands.

“We divided the lands with Kano,” said Maedhros, pointing at the lines running through the terrains on the East. The uneven line left no doubts who drew it, but Amras swallowed the light remark about ruining his work that way when he noticed his own name.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“You will go south,” stated Maedhros, pointing at the right spot on the map.

Amras blinked and wiped away his hair from his face, then looked at his brother with offense and disbelief.

“You are sending me away,” he said bitterly. “I made a mistake, I wasn’t careful enough and you are sending me away like a child, far from danger.”

“Don’t be silly.” Maedhros shook his head, as if that thought had never crossed his mind. “I was caught because of far more stupid actions. But you said there are good hunting forests on the South, so we thought it a suitable place for you. Besides, we will need supplies,” he added, rolling the map to put it in the tube.

“It’s Morifinwe who enjoys trading, not me,” Amras reminded him. He closed his eyes and winced. Sitting and talking made his head hurt more.

“This the final decision. I am going to present it to the king.” Maedhros tossed the tube over his shoulder. “We’ll talk when I’m back. Now rest,” he smiled warmly and squeezed his brother’s hand, then stood up and left, though Amras was about to object.

The youngest son of Feanor sat upright and tossed the blanket from his knees. He placed his legs carefully on the floor and reached for crutches Alcarino had brought him. The healer said nothing about getting up, but Amras was not going to just let Maedhros leave like that and pass the arrangements to the king.

He pushed himself up on his good leg, but as soon as he leaned on the crutches, he hissed, because his arms hurt more than he anticipated. He made two unsteady steps, but then his arms could no longer support his weight and slipped from the crutches. He fell.

His cheeks burned from humiliation and embarrassment way more than his arms and leg hurt. Amras sat and leaned against the bed. There was no way he could catch up with Maedhros, who was clearly in a hurry and had no time to wait for his youngest brother. Was he really so eager to forget the time of his own weakness that he didn’t even slow his pace? Yes, they began their preparations for travelling East when the Spring came, but those few more days would not make any difference.

Furious, Amras waited a moment, grateful that his brother closed the doors behind him and no one would see him like this from the corridor. He dragged himself back to bed, weak and sore, because moving reminded him about all the cuts and bruises he could ignore as he laid. He left the crutches on the floor and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep through the pounding in his head.

***

Walking quickly proved to be slow, tiring and painful. Though Amras learned to use the crutches quite quickly, his arms were still bothering him and he had to be careful, or else he would risk falling down again. Alcarino warned him to limit walking for a week or two and let his shoulders heal, but Amras had too much to do.

He wasn’t just going to swallow such humiliation. Maedhros could be the eldest and he was the one who took upon himself all the arrangements with Fingolfin, but during their private councils they could all express their opinions. But this time his brothers changed the arrangements at last moment, without even waiting for him to feel well enough to join them.

But firstly, there was a grim responsibility waiting for him – talking to the families of his fallen comrades. Amras had no doubts they already knew, but he felt he owed them to pass the news personally. He knew he survived only because he was mistaken for Maedhros. He was trying not to remember the filthy hands on him and the pain they inflicted, nor his fear when he thought Maedhros would not get him in time and later, when he thought the enemy managed to capture his brother again. He had no doubts nothing would have changed, but he couldn’t help but muse what if he hadn’t fallen off his horse, hadn’t broken his leg, hadn’t...

Amras sighed and got up from his chair, pleased that at least the pounding in his head stopped. He grabbed his crutches and limped to the doors.

***

The camp was buzzing with life. With each Spring day the preparations went forward. The yards were full of wagons that were going to transport their belongings. Caranthir expected the first groups to be ready within a few days. Even though there was no immediate reason to rush, he knew Maedhros wished to go East as soon as possible. It was indeed getting crowded by the lake.

As reluctant as he was, Caranthir had to admit that Maedhros’s decision about giving up the crown was showing positive results. Of course, there were still groups regarding the sons of Feanor and their elves with reluctance, but the majority welcomed the reconciliation with relief. Many families were brought together after long years of separation and they moved to the southern shore of the lake. Additionally, some elves from Finrod’s host liked the lands on the South and as their prince was going to stay in the North, they moved to go with the sons of Feanor.

Caranthir supervised the latest delivery from the Sindar, then went to the forge to pass Curufin their orders. The raw material they brought was of good quality, but it was less than it should have and it would be best for Curufin to decide what to do with it.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting you in here,” he commented at the doorstep as he saw his youngest brother.

Amras was sitting on a chest by the door, watching Curufin with a bored expression he didn’t even bother to conceal. He kept his leg outstretched and looked far from comfortable.

“They tore off the hook from my scabbard,” he replied indifferently. “I can’t repair it myself right now.”

Curufin snorted as if he doubted Amras could ever perform such a task. He didn’t stop working, but he seemed to be displeased with their company.

“Curvo, if you would, we have some stock to organise,” said Caranthir, heading straight to the point.

Curufin nodded and put the scabbard aside. Amras looked impatient and clearly displeased that his brother didn’t finish his work first. Caranthir had seen him earlier, limping around the camp with his hunters and he began to wonder why his brother was in such a hurry.

It took them a while before Curufin decided what to do with all the raw material, as the storages behind his forge were already full and some of it had to be transported elsewhere. When they finally returned to the workshop, Amras was still sitting there. He was so lost in thoughts, busy planning something, that he didn’t even grant his brothers a glance until Caranthir stood over him.

“Are you coming back home with me, or do you intend to sit here?”

Amras jerked and looked up. He kept his arms tightly crossed, resting on his lap.

“Curvo hasn’t finished yet,” he remarked. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll bring it to you later,” offered Curufin. “It’s not like you need it right now anyway.”

“You overtaxed yourself, didn’t you,” Caranthir summed up, looking at his youngest brother. “Which one hurts more?”

“Left,” admitted Amras reluctantly, clearly not intending to move even for an inch. “I won’t be able to put any weight on it right now.”

Caranthir shook his head in disapproval, then put his arm around his brother and pulled him up from the chest. He took one of his crutches and slowly, step by step, they made their way to the house. He could see Amras’s right arm shaking with effort and once again Caranthir wondered what made him move so much, as it clearly served him ill.

Amras sat down on his bed with relief and pulled up his broken leg, but then he asked his brother to pass him a notebook and a quill. Undisturbed by the fact that he still had company, he started writing something down. He stopped only when his brother sat beside him and glanced at his notes with interest.

“Alright.” Caranthir crossed his arms and his keen eyes rested on Amras. “Care to tell me what are you up to?”

His youngest brother hesitated for a moment, then nodded. And answered.

[shannaraisles]

Dear Friend - Chapter 7

My festive project. A Modern AU heavily based on The Shop Around The Corner, in which Cullen Rutherford finds love between Satinalia and First Day. [Read on AO3]

Chapter Seven

The snow was falling again in big wet clumps when Cullen finally located the right apartment building, quietly chuckling under his breath at Cassandra's appalling handwriting. The little note she'd left him containing Mila's home address had been all but illegible even before he'd got it wet. And why was he standing outside a Storm Age-era building of gray stone and narrow windows, in the dark, in the snow, pressing the buzzer in the hope that someone inside might let him in soon?

Because Mila was sick, that was why. In more than a year, he'd never known her to take even half a day off because of illness, yet she'd called in reluctantly three days in a row this week. He was worried about her, and for once, he didn't mind that other people had noticed it. Cassandra had taken the opportunity to badger him about telling Mila the truth again, but he'd grown used to her quiet glaring at his back every time he made the object of his affections smile or laugh in her presence over the last six weeks or so. Varric was slightly less discreet about it, but the promise of Kirkwall whiskey for First Day and a mild threat of locking him in with the marmosets who were obsessed with his chest hair had settled that score. Everyone else at work just seemed reasonably pleased that he and Mila were no longer snapping at each other at every opportunity. He could have been brutal in his assessment of his own concern at Mila's illness, breaking it down to a simple sense of impatience and lost opportunity, but even he knew this was a lie. He was worried about her, plain and simple - worried about the health of a woman he was very fond of.

The intercom buzzed, and an unexpectedly Antivan voice spoke. "Yes?"

A little confused that he'd somehow come to the wrong street, Cullen frowned. "Uh ... My name's Cullen?" he offered, unintentionally as though asking permission to have a name at all. "I work with Mila, I ... Well, I thought I'd come and see how she is."

The feminine voice on the other end of the intercom sounded delighted with this news. "Oh, how wonderful! Mila, get up, you have a visitor! Come up, Cullen - apartment 12a."

"Thank you," he managed, just before the line went dead and the main door buzzed.

Pushing it open with his shoulder, careful not to drop or spill his peace offerings, Cullen paused to stamp the snow off his boots before heading up the stairs toward the middle floor of the building. He had to admit to feeling a little trepidation - he hadn't been invited, exactly. Nor had he called ahead to warn her he was coming. It had been a sort of spur of the moment decision, solidified on the phone with Alys when he'd called to see how her sleepover with her best friend was going. Now it was seven o'clock in the evening, and he was lurking outside the door to Mila's apartment, holding a small potted cactus and a carton of chicken noodle soup, seriously reconsidering whether this was a good idea or not.

He didn't have much chance to worry over it, though. The door opened within a minute of his arrival, revealing the bright smile of what he assumed was the Antivan woman who had buzzed him in.

"Come in!" she declared, gesturing for him to pass over the threshold. "Mila's on the couch - that way. Let me take your coat."

"Oh ... thank you."

A little bewildered by the warm greeting from someone he'd never met before - at least, he didn't think he'd met her, but she looked vaguely familiar in some way - Cullen let himself be stripped out of his warm coat and ushered into the living room, where Mila was visible sweeping an armful of used tissues into a trash can from where she was sprawled on the couch. It was a pleasant little room, really - colored lights still hung for the holidays, two desks set up against the far wall, behind one of which was a collection of hand-drawn pictures tacked to the wall. Alys' pictures, though Mila didn't know that. He smiled at the sight of them, turning his attention back to Mila. She was wrapped up in a fleece blanket, at least two empty boxes of tissues on the floor beside the couch, still in her pajamas - a festive onesie she'd twinned with offensively bright stripey socks - and her dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She looked absolutely adorable. She also looked utterly bemused to see him.

"Hi," she managed, her voice sounding just a little scratchy. "Did something happen?"

"Hmm?" Cullen blinked back to himself. "Oh ... no, nothing's wrong," he assured her. "I was concerned. It's not like you to call in sick, after all." He hefted the cactus and the carton in his hands. "These are for you."

It was Mila's turn to blink as her eyes focused on the plant. "You brought me a cactus?"

He glanced down at it, feeling like an idiot now. "Well, Alys was rather insistent that I should bring you flowers," he tried to explain, "but when I was in the florist, I saw this, and ... thought of you."

Even as he visibly deflated, Mila's face creased into a smile. "Pretty and prickly, huh?" she asked in amusement.

"Sounds very accurate to me," the woman behind him said. "I'm Josephine, by the way, Mila's flatmate, and I am going out." She tapped Cullen's arm. "Make her eat and wash," she instructed. "She has been refusing to do both all day."

"Maker's breath, Josie, I'm not a child," Mila complained, her face flushing in embarrassment as Cullen chuckled lightly.

"Then kindly stop behaving like one," Josephine informed her friend fondly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Eat, wash, pretend to be human while you have a guest. I promise I will make you breakfast in the morning if you are feeling better."

"You're doing nothing for my image here," Mila pointed out with a faint smile, rubbing a hand over her hair and grimacing at the sweaty feeling of it against her palm. "I'm already feeling better, anyway. And you have a date."

"Mila Trevelyan, you are doing nothing for your image," Josephine told her with a grin. "All right, I am going. Have a lovely evening." She shot Mila a surprisingly intense look, glancing between Cullen and her flatmate significantly, before turning on her heel to slip away.

Cullen found himself grinning at the exchange. "She seems ... forceful," he commented, setting the cactus down on the coffee table.

"She was showing off for your benefit," Mila told him, but her voice was affectionate despite the grumbles. "Thank you for coming over. It's ... it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you," he countered. "And I now have instructions. So up you get, into the shower. I'll make you some dinner."

Mila stared at him incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He met her stare with a firm smile. "I have a ten year old, you are never going to win this battle. Give in with grace and save yourself the effort."

"What happens if I try to fight back?" she asked, reaching for another tissue to blow her nose, already rubbed raw by three days of snuffles.

"I may have to bodily pick you up and put you in the shower before turning it on," he informed her. A moment later, his imagination had taken that suggestion and woven it into a mental image of Mila naked beneath steaming water, his hands twitching to touch the imagined planes and curves of a body he'd never really had much of an opportunity to admire. She lived in baggy shirts, this woman.

By the look on her face, he'd slightly boggled her with that suggestion, too. She didn't seem to know quite how to respond. He could only hope she was struggling with the same sort of mental imagery that was currently making him quite glad his sweater hung so low.

"What's my reward if I do get washed up?" she challenged him eventually.

Cullen chuckled, holding up the carton of soup in his hand. "Chicken noodle soup," he told her. "And I brought a packet of Rivaini tea - my sister swears by it for colds." And so did his Dear Friend, which was the reason he’d brought it in the first place.

"Oooh, I love Rivaini tea," she enthused, suddenly looking a lot brighter than she had done when he walked in. She pushed back the blanket and stood up slowly, obviously used to the blood-draining experience of standing too fast when feverish from the last few days. "All right, Rutherford, you have a deal. I'll pretend I'm human and not a snot-monster from the Void if you feed me."

"I'm honored," he teased, watching as she shuffled off toward what he assumed was her bedroom. Maker's breath, I hope she has an en-suite. He wasn't entirely sure he could cope with seeing her wander around in a towel.

Left to his own devices, trying not to listen to the sound of her undressing and setting the shower running or to let his imagination run away with him, Cullen turned to seek out the kitchen. He was momentarily arrested by the sight of several of Alys' pictures tacked onto the fridge door, the bright colors and familiar lines of his daughter's artwork drawing a smile from his face as he recognized pictures from a year ago, when she had first started to draw special presents for their Dear Friend. Neither one of them had suspected that each one had been saved and put in a place of honor, to be seen and admired every day not only by the woman they had been made for, but by her flatmate as well. Seeing them there only served to soften him still further toward Mila. It was getting to a point where she might well be able to make him melt just with a look.

A little hunting found a pan he set the chicken noodle soup to heating in on the stove; the kettle to boiling; and a few minutes of investigating her cupboards found both an infuser and a decent sized mug to make the tea with. That done, still trying not to listen closely to the sound of hot water falling on a warm body in a room not so very far away, he indulged himself in wandering through the public rooms of the little apartment, exploring the place Mila called home. It was easy to spot which of the desks was hers - even without the plethora of Alys' artwork tacked to the wall behind it, Mila's almost trademark combination of mess and organization gave it away. Papers piled high, almost all of it annotated with her own handwriting which, now he came to think of it, looked far more similar to her letter-writing hand than he had ever let himself consider before; a mousepad emblazoned with a picture of Amatus; a pile of notebooks, all with at least some writing in them, one of which was open as though she was in the process of taking notes. He scanned that page curiously, feeling himself grin. Notes on enrichment for big cats in captivity; it looked as though Varric was going to get an earful at some point about extending the program they had for the lions to the other cats under their care.

Back in the kitchen as the sound of the shower came to a halt, he found himself scanning what else was stuck to the fridge - a shopping list, a dentist appointment card, a few photographs. The photographs caught his attention and held it. There were only a couple of Mila herself, smiling into the camera while hugging or being hugged by what he assumed were friends, or perhaps even family. The photograph that really caught his attention was of her flatmate, Josephine, wrapped around a familiar redhead as the picture caught them in a candid moment. He knew that redhead - Leliana Valence, the Nightingale as she was known in various places, and a friend of his for a couple of years. No wonder Josephine had looked familiar; he'd probably met her before, at some party or dinner. And if Mila knew Leliana, she probably had been introduced to Garrett Hawke, too ... and sure enough, there was a picture of Hawke and his unconventional little family, tucked behind a magnet that declared Ostwick to be a place where most people lived with their heads in the sand.

Cullen chuckled to himself. The parallels just kept piling up. Not only did they share interests, passions, but they also knew the same people.

"What's so funny?" Mila asked from behind him.

He straightened, looking over his shoulder to find her looking a little better than she had when he came in - dressed in jeans and a loose t-shirt, still squeezing the water from her hair with a towel. He gestured to her photographs.

"Just reflecting on what a small world we live in," he assured her. "I had no idea you knew Hawke and co."

She blinked in surprise. "You know them?"

"I worked with him for a couple of years before the zoo hired me on," he explained, returning to the stove to stir the soup before serving it into a bowl on the counter in front of her. "We were all much younger and much less inclined to do actual work; everyone was volunteering somewhere else as well as working for the city. I was the first to get the job I wanted, though - it helped that Rory was pregnant, so there was a level of desperation in my interview that Meredith just couldn't resist. How do you know them?"

"Varric introduced me a few months ago," she told him,, braiding her damp hair out of her way before applying herself to the soup with an enthusiasm that betrayed how long she'd been denying herself food in favor of feeling awful. "Garrett propositioned me within seconds, and Isabela laughed her ass off when I slapped the guy. Apparently I passed the test."

Cullen snorted with laughter. "They're still playing that game?" he asked in amusement. "I'm surprised Isabela stays with him, the number of times he's asked someone else into their bed."

Mila raised a brow above a slow grin. "Are you really that naive? She likes to play as much as he does, you know."

"Oh, no, I ... I know that." He could feel his face flushing as he glanced away, one hand rising to rub his neck as he cleared his throat, acutely aware of her grin as she watched him. "I ... well, she tried it on me once."

"Oh? Did it work?"

He could only imagine the look on his face, scandalized but also deeply pleased to see her drop her spoon into the bowl and cackle with laughter, groping for a tissue to cover her mouth and nose as she coughed through her mirth. She swayed on the stool where she sat, her face just a little too pale for his liking. Without thinking, he lurched toward her, placing one hand warm against her back to keep her from toppling over.

"Easy there, Trevelyan," he warned. "I didn't come all the way here just to watch you brain yourself on the floor because you can't handle my raw attractiveness."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Your raw dorkiness, more like," she countered, her voice rasping as she leaned away from the press of his hand to take up the spoon again. "This is really good, by the way. Where's it from?"

"Circle Foods," he told her, gently drawing away the moment she made it obvious his closeness wasn't required. As much as he wanted to tease her into looking at him a certain way, doing it while she was ill seemed like taking advantage, somehow. "There's not much else they can get right, but their chicken noodle soup is always the best."

"Sounds like the voice of experience," Mila commented, watching as he filled the infuser with the loose tea he'd brought with him, setting it into her mug to steep. "So where's Alys tonight?"

"Sleeping over at a friend's house," he said with a grin. "I don't envy the parents - eight little girls having some kind of belated Satinalia party and all sleeping on the floor of the living room. Alys is going to be fit to drop tomorrow."

Mila laughed gently, careful not to provoke another coughing fit. "Sounds like fun to me," she pointed out. "But then, I was a little girl once."

"Really?" he asked with a certain amount of sarcasm. "You didn't just spring into existence fully formed as you are?"

"Oh, we all know that when the Maker made me, he broke the mold," she grinned, resting her chin on her hand wearily. "So you're all alone tonight, then?"

"Yes," he told her with a faint sigh. "Just me. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind, but ... at this time of year ..."

Her expression gentled as she looked at him. He knew she didn't know the whole reason why he found it difficult to be alone at this time of year, and why should she? He'd never been all that forthcoming about Rory, even to his friends. The two months between Satinalia and First Day had been her favorite, filled with the best of her silliness and playful warmth. The dark evenings without her at this end of the year were the hardest to bear. But what Mila said next did surprise him.

"You're welcome to hang out here for a few hours," she offered, pushing her empty bowl aside. "Not very exciting, I know, with a sickie for company, but we could, I don't know ... watch a movie or something? Better than being all alone if you don't have to be."

Touched, Cullen smiled, nodding gratefully. "I'd like that," he agreed quietly. "Thank you."

"Two conditions," she added, a slightly mischievous look on her face.

His brow rose above his smile. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Don't look so scared, I'm not asking for a lifelong commitment here," she laughed, shaking her head carefully. "Condition one - we are watching A Muppet Satinalia Song, and no arguments. I love that movie, and I'm the sick one, so I win that argument without needing to have it."

Cullen chuckled in defeat. "I can tolerate that one," he allowed in amusement. "It's Alys' favorite seasonal movie, too. I think I've watched it four times already this year."

"Good, you can sing along with me," Mila said firmly. "Two ..." She flushed, glancing down at herself awkwardly. "You're going to have to walk me to the couch," she admitted with uncomfortable candor. "I'm feeling better, but I'm kind of at that point where I could keel over for no apparent reason at any moment. So I'm going to need you to hold onto me."

"Who am I to deny a beautiful woman who needs me?" he countered with a gentler smile, taking the infuser out of the mug. "Do you take honey or sugar in your tea?"

She made a face. "And ruin a perfectly good tea?"

Cullen laughed. "Point taken. Come along then, Trevelyan."

Taking the mug in one hand, he moved to her side as she stood up carefully, making the most of his permission to touch by wrapping one arm securely about her back. And to his surprise, she didn't object at all. In fact, he could have sworn she was leaning into him as they made their way back into the living room, despite not actually needing to. Was he finally making the kind of impression he wanted to make on her? Did she actually want him to be here, to be this close? Maker, he hoped so. Alys' deadline for telling the truth was looming. He was almost ashamed of how much he wanted Mila to take that little confession well.

It was easy to lower her down onto the couch, to dismiss the flush on her cheeks as her fever despite the small smile playing at her lips. And with a small child in his own life, it was nothing to get the movie going. What did surprise him was the way Mila made room for him on the couch, then crowded in close to his side as the music started to play, wrapping her blanket over both of them even as she hummed along to a soundtrack she obviously knew inside and out. She didn't even object when - purely for comfort's sake - he raised his arm to wrap it over her shoulders, resting her head against his shoulder. It felt ... easy, comfortable. Right.

They laughed together at the funniest parts, the parts that he usually had to force a laugh at for Alys' sake. It was different to watch this movie with an adult who loved it so much. Mila shushed him so he didn't miss the best lines; pointed out the background details he'd never paid much attention to in the past. With her, it was like watching the movie again for the first time. She felt comfortable with him - comfortable enough to point out the little bits she liked best, to laugh at jokes that he might not have laughed at without her company there. Comfortable enough to fall silent ... to fall asleep on his shoulder as the last act of the movie wound its way toward the closing credits.

And that felt right, too. More than right. It was more than comfort, more than friendship. She trusted him enough to be so completely vulnerable in his presence. After a year of an appalling working relationship, Cullen felt a real sense of achievement that six weeks of behaving like a decent human being toward her - of being himself, rather than a defensive stick in the mud - had culminated in Mila Trevelyan asleep on his shoulder, nestled close under his arm, without even trying to keep herself awake in his presence. He felt ... honored, exhilarated, encouraged. For the first time, he felt as though she might actually not hurt him as badly as he was expecting when he finally told her the truth.

Glancing at the clock, he knew he couldn't just leave her asleep on the couch, and prowling her home while she was sleeping was just wrong. Which left him only one option, really. Very gently, moving with infinite slowness, he eased himself off the couch, gathering her up into his arms as he lifted her from her sprawl. She murmured, unconsciously curling her arms about his neck as her face pressed into the line of his throat, the soft huff of her breath against his skin doing highly inappropriate things below the belt. Now was not the time to be fantasizing about that. On soft feet, he shouldered into what he assumed was her bedroom - a tiny space only big enough for the single bed and a large chest of drawers, it seemed, and very carefully laid her down with her head against the pillow. He paused, considering removing her jeans so she was more comfortable, but ultimately could not bring himself to do it. That really would be a violation of her vulnerability. Instead, he drew the quilt and blanket up to her shoulder, his callused fingers stroking over her braided hair as she sighed in her sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Mila," he whispered to her, unable to resist brushing a very soft kiss to her brow.

She whined quietly, rolling onto her back with another sigh, a tiny smile flickering on her lips to tease him with thoughts of what she might be dreaming about. Was she dreaming about her Dear Friend, or about him? The fantasy or the reality? He didn't know. He couldn't guess. But he could hope.

It was only a matter of minutes to fetch a glass of water to set on the chest of drawers beside the bed next to the cactus he'd brought for her; to turn off the television and turn out the lights; to fetch his coat and carefully let himself out, his fingers fumbling to put the chain on the door before he closed it tight behind him. And all the while with a soft smile on his face. It hadn't quite been the evening he'd expected, but ... it had been good.

So close. Not long before the truth came out now.

[mikawa-province]

26.Tending an injury ^^

Hello Anon. My apologies for [yet again] taking so long in fulfilling your request.

26. Tending an injury (from here)

Link for mobile user

He should have been used to it by now,hearing the whimpers and the tears that would sometimes stain his kimono, and the way her fingers wouldlatch on to the front of his robes as she tried to sleep off the pain.

But he hadn’t, couldn’t get used to it, even after getting into this… habit of allowing her to lie on top of himso that she could rest and heal properly.

Not when she was suffering for theconsequences of his inability to protect those around him.

Guilt had been eating him up ever since shehad been struck down by an assassin who had been tasked to kill him. At thattime, they were both walking around the area of Hamamatsu Castle, as she had announcedto him earlier that day that she had been unable to find the herb he waslooking for. Annoyed that he had to go out in the cold just so he couldproperly show the stupid kitchen wench what the herb in question looked like,he had been rather hostile and curt towards her the whole time they were makingtheir way to the fields. It had only been a few seconds of him turning his backto grab the plant when, upon turning to show to her the herb, she had fallen onhim. His initial reaction was to sneer and taunt her for being a weakling whohad fainted because she was unable to stand the winter chill… until his eyesgazed upon the back of her light pink kimono, which was slowly turning into adark crimson.

He could not remember what happened next,other than what Sakai had told him when everything had somewhat calmed down.

How he had been too stunned to move at thattime, and how it had been Hattori Hanzou who had subdued the man and the otherassassins in the area when they took advantage of him being too shocked to move.

How his retainers had been unable to pryhis hands away from her when theothers have arrived, as he had actually managed to put enough pressure on thewound to temporarily stop the bleeding, despite him in a daze.

How he had taken it upon himself to bringher to his room and had decided on his own that there would be no need for adoctor, as he would do the work himself, to the horror and amazement of hisretainers.

When she started bleeding again as soon ashe had laid her down on his futon, heused linen bandages and bound it tightly around her torso to cease the bloodflow. He had seen horrific wounds on soldiers, but seeing half of her back rawand open from a diagonal sword wound had made him feeling light-headed.

The attack was meant for him, yet she tookthe blow and was suffering for it.

Seeing her lying unconscious left himfeeling strangely desolate over the fact that a woman had protected him.

Probably in a desperate bid to make surethat she would not suffer in his failure to keep her safe, he cleaned her woundafter a few days of binding it. Ieyasu then took it upon himself to stitch herwound shut to lessen the chances of it getting infected. He had seen a numberof men dying from both blood loss and infected wounds, and he refused to standby and watch her die.

Three days later, she was whimpering in hersleep for her father not to leave her side and for Death to claim her already.

The instant he heard about it, he felt asif someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him.

The voice in his head had mocked him fordoing more harm than good to her, andthat he might as well end her misery by letting her die.

The wound he had stitched shut in anattempt to avoid infection had, ironically, become infected in a matter of days.While she was delirious from fever, he had been attempting to lower her temperaturewith a sponge bath. During that time as well, when he was about to replace thebandages, he had noticed that the wound he had treated a few days ago hadturned into an angry red. Wasting no time, he regularly cleaned the infected woundwith water that he had drawn from the well and changed the bandages.

He had been having thoughts of her dyingever since she got wounded, but the possibility of it becoming a realitybecause of his foolish decision to stitch up the wound—

Despite the bleak situation, he foundhimself laughing.

How could he have ever thought that he hadit in him to save her?

He was slowly killing her with his ownhands, and right now, it seemed merciful to end her life once and for all,instead of prolonging her suffering.

No doubt, the voice in his head told him, thiswas her way of blaming him for putting her in the current state she was in, andthat she would rather end her suffering than be stuck with him for the rest ofher life.

Youwill notleave me.

If, after all this, she still wanted toleave the clan because of his failures, so be it.

Right now, she was still his retainer, andhe was still her lord; he will not allow Death to take her from him thateasily.

It had been a task more exhausting than allof the campaigns he had participated in combined. As he did not want anyone involved in the task of nursingher back to health, mostly because of guilt, he took it upon himself to drawbuckets of cold water from the well, completely drench a clean strip of linen,and use it to wipe down her feverish body. When the water was not cold enoughto his liking, he would proceed to get more water from the well, ignoring thewinter chill, and do the same thing over and over again.

At one point, Sakai had told him to getsome rest, only for him to glare at his most senior retainer.

“Don’ttell me what to do, old man.”

SakaiTadatsugu only smiled. “Right now, you have done wonders for her, milord, butyou must rest—”

“No.”came the curt reply.

“Itwould not do well for the lord of the clan to get sick, and you have hardlyeaten anything.” Sakai gave him a worried look. “I know Sanae is… not in thecondition to serve you meals, but I am sure she will not be happy when shefinds out that you have forgotten to eat because of her.”

Trust the old man to say that words thatwould make him feel even guiltier.

In the end, he had reluctantly allowed Sakaito ask the servants in the castle to prepare a meal for him and bring it up tohis room. After the tray was placed in front of him, Ieyasu forced himself to eatthe food and downing it with hot tea that nearly burnt his mouth and histongue.

If he was going to take care of her untilher wounds healed, he would need all the nourishment and strength he could get.He could not feel the hunger right now, but he knew that it was better to satethe hunger before it distracted him from what he was doing.

He would make sure that Death wouldabsolute have no chance of taking her away from his side.

He would not allow it.

After an exhausting week of keeping herwound clean and her temperature down, her fever finally broke, and the firstthing she did as soon as she opened her eyes was to flash him an exhausted smileand call out his name.

He stopped himself from propping her upfrom the bedding and holding her in his arms, knowing that her kindness wassomething that he did not deserve. “… You’re finally awake.” He said, his tonesounding similar to a man who could not be bothered.

Her smile faltered for a split second uponhearing his harsh tone, and the Lord of Mikawa ignored the stab of regret thatmade its way to his chest, reminding himself that he was the one at fault as to why she was confined to the bedding. Whileher wound was not infected anymore and her body temperature was back to the wayit was, she should not push herself.

“I… guess I am, Ieyasu-sama.”

She sounded so forlorn that he took it as asign to leave; it was obvious that he was making her feel uncomfortable withhis presence. “Don’t move around too much if you want to heal quickly,” was allhe said before leaving the room.

That night, he had single-handedly prepareda meal that he was sure would tempt her appetite. To his relief, she had the strengthto prop herself up and eat… until for her to stop midway and put the tray down.

“… What’s wrong now?” he managed to ask afterhe struggled to form the words to ask her why she had suddenly stopped eating.“Was the food that unappetizing?”

She gave him an apologetic smile. “The foodis good…” she gave a wistful glance at the tray that she had left on the floor.“It’s just…” at this, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“What now?”

“Ieyasu-sama…” she took a deep breath. “Canyou please bring me to the toilet?”

Puzzled at her request, he took her to thetoilet anyway; he had barely managed to bring her in time just before she threwup everything she had eaten.

While she had assured him that she wasprobably not well enough to keep down the food he had made, in his mind, it didnot seem that way to him. She could have simply told him a lie, as she was toopolite to outwardly reject him, and that she was actually disgusted with thefood she had eaten.

Countless times before, he had rejected themeals she had prepared him without so much as a reason why, and recently startedto reluctantly eat the meals she had prepared, if only to shut her up. He ateher food with an impassive look on his face as not to give her any hint withjust how satisfied he was, and would proceed to critique and pinpoint everysingle thing that was wrong with it.

In her case, she ate his cooking withoutcomplaint, but when she had put down the tray and heaved it all out of hersystem… she might as well have slapped him on the face.

As he had been sleep-deprived for the pastfew days, he had actually forgotten the fact that sick people would not be ableto eat properly, and that they needed something light and nutritious to helpthem regain their appetite.

How could he have missed that?

Seemslike I’m the one killing her now, he thoughtbitterly as he took the uneaten tray of food after helping her back to herbedding. Just before she had lied back down on her side as not to disrupt thehealing of her wound, he had asked her if she wanted to eat something else,only for her to shake her head.

“I’m not hungry right now, Ieyasu-sama.I’ll just go to sleep.” Her response was neutral, and yet, it alarmed himenough that it took a minute for him to calm his nerves.

She was rejecting him, and he didn’t likeit.

Not one bit.

The him before the incident would have beenglad that she would stop annoying him and getting all clingy because she wantedhis opinion on her cooking, but now… feelings that he never knew he had were hittinghim in full force that it was difficult for him to comprehend what washappening.

She hated his cooking… hated it so muchthat she threw it all up in the hopes of making it look like she had noappetite.

It made no sense for him to be feeling sodown over it, and yet…

Clenching his fists, he took the tray ofuneaten food and left the room once more, unable to comprehend why he wasfeeling so dejected.

On the third week of her confinement, hefound her crying silently on the bedding, though as soon as he had made hispresence known, she had hastily wiped her tears before forcing a smile on herface.

“Ieyasu-sama.” Just before she could attemptto get up, sit on her calves, and bow at him, he stopped her by holding out ahand.

“Don’t bother, can’t stand to see youlooking so pathetic and in pain.” Inwardly, he winced at his choice of words,but knew that he was deserving of all her hatred.

She nearly lost her life because of him.

“Understood. Forgive me for being unableto…” she winced as she shifted slightly on the bedding, trying to adjust herposition.

“As I’ve said, don’t force yourself.” Hereminded her, and she nodded slowly. “As long as you don’t move too much,you’ll be fine.”

“… Yes, but it’s so hard to sleep…” shesighed heavily, her lips curving downward into a frown. “You keep telling menot to lie on my side too much… but I’ve always been a side sleeper so—”

He masked the feeling of dread with asarcastic smile. “Aww, are you asking me to cuddle and hold you tight while yousleep?”

Ieyasu meant for his statement to be simplythat, albeit a sarcastic one. And yet, he found himself saying out loud, “Butif you insist, wench, I will allow you to be selfish just this once and I will allow you to lie on top of me and holdyou while we both sleep. After all, you did save my life, and because of you,my quest to unify this country will continue.”

Upon seeing her puzzled look, he chuckled.“I am giving you the option to opt out—”

“I couldn’t possibly impose, Ieyasu-sama.You’ve… you’ve made so much effort to accommodate me. Please, just let me—”before he could even lost his nerve and run away from his own challenge, he foundhimself sitting down on her bedding and lying down next to her. “W-w-w-whatare you—”

“It’s too cold, and I need a heat source.You’re perfect as a warm body that I can hold while I sleep.”

“W-w-wha—”

“I will not repeat myself.” He hissed ather, his tone angry, in order to mask his embarrassment at the boldness of whathe had suggested. Even after saying those words, he still felt self-consciousand overwhelmed; for those words to easily slip out of his lips as if it werenothing serious, it shocked him.

To add more to his shock, wordlessly, shehad not-so-gracefully climbed on top of him, her hands grasping his shoulders inorder to get herself to lie on him. Much to his private relief, she did notlook uncomfortable at the… peculiarsleeping arrangement that he suggested; on the contrary, she sighed when sheproceeded to place her head on his chest, making him blush at the ratherintimate contact.

It was a good thing that with her positionright now, as she would be unable to see him blushing like a child whose firstlove had confessed her feelings for him.

When she started adjusting herself into amore comfortable position, her hips pressing against his own, he felt his eyeswiden in surprise before hissing, “Stop moving so much!”

"S-sorry.” She mumbled.“T-trying to find a… c-comfy—”

”… Yes, and you’re making me uncomfortable with what you’re doing.“ Hesaid blandly, hoping that she wouldn’t notice that a part of him was slowly becomingstiff.

The kitchen wench, however, really did notlet anything go unnoticed. ”… Is that a dagger I feel on my hip?“

“I’ll stab you with it if you don’t shutup.” He hissed angrily, making her jolt from the coldness of his tone. While hedid not want to scare her, the wench was really testing both his patience andhis self-control.

… Andhe was afraid of what he was capable of doing when his mind gets clouded withlust.

“M-my apologies, Ieyasu-sama. I shall haveto settle for this position then.”

When she placed the top of her head on thecrook of his neck and sighed deeply, he took it as his cue to blow out the candleand settle in for the night.

The first one to take note of their suddenchange in sleeping arrangements was, surprisingly, Sakakibara Yasumasa.

One afternoon, just after he had managed toget her to eat some porridge mixed with sleeping draught to help her rest,Sakakibara had opened the sliding doors to the room to hand over a letter.Amongst the clan, only a handful of people knew that it was her who wasinjured, and that he was taking care of her. The rest, on the other hand, hadassumed it was the other way around.

Sakakibara had also thought it was theother way around.

Which was why, upon opening the slidingdoors and seeing his lord looking rather nonchalant with the wench sleeping onhis chest, even the snarkiest general of the Tokugawa army was rendered speechlessat what he had just seen.

“… The last thing I expected would be thewench in the same room as you.”

Ieyasu shrugged one shoulder. “What do youwant, Sakakibara? I assume you’re not here to see my condition and report aboutit to Sakai.”

With him currently taking care of Sanaeuntil she was well enough to go back to her duties both as his retainer and hispersonal chef, he had tasked Sakai to take over for him during war councilmeetings in the guise of being injured and recovering from the ‘wound’ hereceived. With Sakakibara now running around the castle to hand him a letter,he figured that his most senior retainer was too busy to do it himself.

“The rumors are true then.” Yasumasaremarked. “It’s her who’s actually injured, and not you.”

“She was exactly where she shouldn’t havebeen, which is why she got cut down instead of me.” Another shrug. “It’s a painto go through finding another chef, so I figured I might as well try and saveher.”

“I see.” Sakakibara’s tone, however,sounded like he was not convinced with the explanation.

As if to make his point, he gave out anexaggerated sigh. “Idiots who can’t even protect themselves getting hurt andplacing the burden on others… can’t believe this is happening to me. I would’vebeen able to handle it without her.”

The lie had been so easy to say out loud.

While she was burning with fever andmuttering for Death to take her, Hanzou, sensing that his master was beatinghimself up over her condition, had told him time and again that the plan toassassinate him had been so carefully planned that the first strike that hadcut her down was not the only thing that his enemies had planned. If he hadactually survived the first one, there were four more who would chase him downand gut him open until he was dead.

Sanae, in Hanzou’s words, had been the‘collateral damage’ in an effort to keep him safe, which had angered him to noend.

She shouldn’t have protected him.

It was still difficult for him to accept thefact that she had done this out of the goodness of her own heart.

It was stupid of her to do so, and yet, hecouldn’t think of any other reason.

He handed back the letter to Yasumasa afterscanning the contents. “Tell Sakai I’ll see him tomorrow morning to discussthis with him.” With another bow, the male retainer left the room and closedthe doors.

She was angry at him, and he did not knowwhy.

Last night, she had wordlessly eaten theporridge he had prepared, and just when he was about to open his mouth to askher how her day went, she had thenerve to ask if it was possible for her to sleep in a separate bedding, whichdid not sit well with him.

… Not that he was desperate for her to liein his arms all the time, but he felt more at ease with the current sleepingarrangements. Ieyasu would know immediately if something had happened to her,and if she needed help, he would be able to spring into action.

While he was well-aware that she wasalready out of danger, with her wound finally closing up and her stitches wereto be removed the day after tomorrow (he had been persuaded by Sakai to atleast call for a proper doctor forthe stitches to be removed), he could not help but be worried that there wasstill a chance for her to succumb to a fever and die from whatever unknowninfection that was lying in wait.

When he arrogantly informed her that thesleeping arrangements could not be changed to cater to her whims, she had thenerve to actually walk out of his room, a first for her since she had beenconfined, and made her way back to her room to sleep in her own bedding.

As for him, he had no choice but to try andkeep himself warm, despite the fact that he had two layers of woolen blanketsto fight off the chill. Suffice to say, he did not sleep well at all lastnight, and had been in an awful mood the moment he chose to get up from bed andpreside over the war council. It had only been yesterday since he was back toattending meetings, but he had managed to catch up on everything, all thanks toSakai.

With that out of the way, there was stillone aspect in his life that had to be fixed… and fast.

That afternoon, after he had been informedby Sakai that the doctor had arrived and had been led to his room where she and the doctor were waiting for him,the removal of the stitches began… along with the doctor admonishing him forwhat he had done in order to close up her wound.

“Should I actually be grateful that you vaguelyknew what you were doing? I don’t think so.” tsked the old man, who was also a personalfriend of Sakai. “You may have helped close the wound, but I wouldn’t besurprised if, at one point, the wound got infected and she had succumbed to afever.”

Still, he said nothing, neither confirmingnor denying the accusation, choosing instead of keep his expression neutral, asif he had no idea what the older man was talking about.

“… if there’s one thing you did right, youmanaged to keep her alive long enough for me to remove the stitching.”continued the doctor.

Thankfully, she had managed to interruptthe conversation and prevented the doctor from reprimanding him further fromhis recklessness. “W-will it scar though…?” she asked in a nervous tone.

“It already did.” The doctor lamented. “Butnot to worry; it’s not as bad as it looks. In time, it will fade.”

Trust the old man to point out that on herskin was proof of his inability to protect her from his shortcomings. From herupper back down to the middle of her torso was a thin, red line… and even if hewas sitting far away from her to give it a closer look, he could feel the dreadburning within him.

Though it may be hidden from his view, atthe back of his mind, he knew it would always be there to remind him that hewas too weak to prevent that attack from happening.

Right after the doctor was done removingthe threads, the old man had handed him a small can. “My lord, I will leave yousome salve. Apply it on her wound whenever there’s discomfort.” Upon hearingthe doctor’s advice, she actually had the nerve to glare at him, as if to tellhim that he had no business in getting involved with her any further, somethingthat he ignored.

“After applying to the wound, leave it todry on the skin for at least half an hour before getting dressed once more.” Henodded at her. “My lady, please take care and take it easy until you are fullyhealed. My lord, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I-I’m not a—” before she could evenprotest over being called by the wrong title, the doctor was out of the door.

As for him, he did not know whether to beamused or annoyed that the doctor has assumed that they were a couple.

If Sakai had anything to do with it, hewould definitely pull out all of the old man’s hair in one go.

“That old man is getting ahead of himself.”He muttered under his breath.

“Ieyasu-sama.”

He was too preoccupied with his thoughtsthat he did not notice her until she was standing in front of him. Immediately,he put on a mask of indifference, despite the fact that his heart was doingotherwise.

“Would you please hand over the salve? Iwill ask Umeko-san to apply it for me if the itchiness gets unbearable.” Sheheld out her hand.

“No.” he glared at her.

“And why not?” despite the calm response,he could see the anger etched on her face.

“Because other than the doctor, I am notallowing anyone else to see nor touch your wound until you’re fully healed.” Hestated.

“But Iam healed! Weren’t the stitches removed just now?” while he wanted tothrottle her for being so stubborn, he knew he could not do such.

Sometimes, her fighting spirit amused himto no end, but today was not one of those days. Why couldn’t she just listen tohim?

“You’re not the one who gets to decide ifyou’re healed or not.” He told her harshly.

The anger in her eyes said it all… and hewas actually afraid of what she would say until she simply sighed and shook herhead in resignation.

“Fine.”

Inwardly, he sighed in relief.

It was a hollow victory, but a victorynonetheless.

He had to figure out why she had become socold to him, or risk losing her.

Days later, just when he thought she wouldbe more accepting of her situation (he had managed to persuade her to stay inhis room until he deemed otherwise, one of the perks of being the lord of theclan), he found her with Toramatsu, the latter waiting for her while she was inthe middle of lowering her kimono toshow him the place where the medicine was supposed to be applied.

Ieyasu knew he had no right to get angryover it, as both of them had no hold over the other, but the fact that she hadactually called upon his page to help her apply the salve while he was busywith the meetings… it left him seething on the inside.

Did he not make it clear enough that only he could check upon her while she was onthe mend?

“Toramatsu.” Upon hearing his name, hispage turned around and bowed at him. “I’ll take it over from here.”

His page was out of the room even beforeshe could utter a word of protest.

Upon realizing that she was stuck with himuntil he applied the salve, she gave out a long-winded sigh and undid herclothing without blinking an eye, startling him. While he had endlessly mockedher by saying that he felt nothing over seeing her naked for the past fewweeks, it had been half-true.

With her slowly recovering from her injury,it had been a struggle for him to calm himself whenever she laid down on top ofhim. A part of him hurt, but he ignored it all, focusing instead on steadyinghis hold on her waist so that she wouldn’t strain her back and thought back oneverything that he considered repulsive in order for the erection to die down.She had caught him once in that state of need, on the very first night hebrought up their unusual sleeping arrangements, and despite downplaying it, hefound himself threatening to ‘stab her’, but not in the way she thought itwould be.

The need for him to bury himself in her…right now was not the time for such, nor would she be ready for it.

He sat across from her, ignoring the factthat she was exposing her upper half to him. “Did you just asked my page to putsalve on your back?” it had been difficult to keep the disbelief from hisvoice, but he couldn’t help it.

Not when she looked like she was eager toremove her clothing when Toramatsu was there, and how she looked like she wasfacing her doom when he entered the room.

She shrugged. “You were busy, and Toramatsuwas not.”

“You couldn’t be bothered to wait?” heasked, irritated.

“What’s it to you?” she asked hotly, hereyes flashing with anger. “You’re the one who told Sakakibara-sama that I’m aburden to you. You should’ve left me to die if I was such a pain to take careof.”

If it was possible to beat his old self forsaying the most asinine statements about her, he would do so in a heartbeat.Instead, he hid his hands inside his sleeves and clenched his fists, trying tocalm himself, even though her words were hitting close to home.

Her telling him point blank that he shouldhave let her die… he felt his façade breaking at her words.

How dare she say that?

“Besides, you said it yourself: you feelnothing when I’m half-naked in front of you, so what makes Toramatsu-kun anydiff—”

He had never been the type who was good atsaying what he felt; he either wrote it down, or he covered it up with the mostvicious statements he could think of, only for him to regret it midway.

This time around, he knew he couldn’t sayanything, as he did not trust himself to say the right things at thisparticularly critical time.

And so, he did what he thought was best inorder to calm his raging emotions and her angry outburst: he leaned forward andkissed her on the lips.

She struggled to get away from him atfirst, but he held on tight, not wanting her to get away until they were bothcalm and level-headed to talk. For now, all he wanted to do was hold her in herarms and reassure himself that she was alive, she was breathing, and that shewas most likely to slap him after he pulled away.

And so, he put some distance between them,buried his face on the crook of her neck and held her tight, unsure of how hewas going to proceed.

“Ieyasu-sama, am I… a burden to you?”

The hesitancy in her tone made him answerright away. “No, you are not.”

“Then why did you… why did you say thosethings to Sakakibara-sama?”

He was not surprised to know that she mayhave listened in on the conversation between him and one of his generals, butIeyasu figured that the sooner she knew the sentiment behind his words, thebetter it would be for the both of them.

She had to know sooner or later.

Pulling away from her momentarily, helooked into her eyes and said, “Because a failure like me had nearly gotten youkilled.”

Whatwas he saying?

Try as she might to make sense of hiswords, nothing came to her mind at all.

He had sounded so flippant and nonchalantduring the time he was talking to Sakakibara, even going as far as to tell theman who disliked her the most that she was a burden, and that he was onlykeeping her alive because he did not want to bother looking for a replacementchef.

Now, however…

“What are you saying?” she whispered. “I-Idon’t understand.”

“Why do youthink you’re in this state?” he gave out a cynical laugh. “It might as wellbeen me who had cut you down and killed you.”

“Ieyasu-sama, it was not your fault.” She began,feeling distressed over the fact that he was blaming himself for what hadhappened. “It was my choice to protect you, and not anyone else’s.”

When the desolate look on his facepersisted, she found herself speaking in an attempt to persuade him not toblame himself for what she thought, at that time, was the best thing to do. “Look,Ieyasu-sama, I’m simply just a chef. I’m not like the others who are of use toyou in the battlefield. If it had been Sakakibara-sama or Tadakatsu-sama whohad gotten hurt, that would have been the worst case scenario for the clan inthe midst of this war. They’re your strongest generals in the clan, right?Compared to them, and the rest of your retainers, I am replaceable. After all,you all managed to get everything together, even before I got here and—”

“… The hell did you just say?”

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if what she hadsaid was the right thing to do.

The look of desolation had now beenreplaced by fury, and immediately, she had the urgency to run far, far awayfrom him.

“I—” it had been some time since she hadfelt some sort of fear towards the lord of the clan, but while before, she had fearedhim before because of his ruthlessness, now she feared him because she had noidea what she had done to anger him. “I-Ieyasu-sama—”

In a split second, she had found herself onher back, and while the impact had made her wince because of her wound, Sanaewas more concerned with the man who loomed over her. In order to keep her fromtrying to get up and run away from him, he pinned her down by her shoulders andlooked straight into her eyes.

What surprised her was when he demanded hernot to look at him as he buried his face on the side of her neck, she instantlyfelt hot tears on her shoulder.

The light-hearted teasing she had in mindto ease the tension between them failed to escape her lips as she heard himspeak once more.

“How dare you… do you really think so lowlyof yourself that you wanted to die? Or are you so disgusted with me that youwould rather die than be in my service?”

Whatis he saying…?

For his voice to tremble like that… shefelt as if she had done the gravest mistake in her life.

“‘Replaceable’? Is that how you seeyourself?” he laughed bitterly. “You were unconscious and burning with feverduring the time I was losing my mind, wondering about a ‘what if I didn’t tryand stitch that wound to keep it from getting infected’ scenario.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that stupidthing and let the wound repair itself… but I was so afraid of…” at this, shefelt him shake his head, as if dreading the scenario that his mind had came upwith. “But when you pulled through, I… I thought everything would turn outalright.

“For you to tell me that you are‘replaceable’, and that it was better that it was you who got cut down… how dare you say that to my face.”

The guilt was weighing him down, she wassure of it.

How many times had she seen him looking sogrim whenever he had to apply the salve on her back? She had dismissed it asthe face of someone who didn’t want to do a task so degrading, but now that hewas confessing everything to her…

Ieyasu-sama…

The burden that he alone had to shoulderbecause of the guilt… it hurt her.

“Crying on a woman’s shoulder…” anotherbitter laugh. “How low will I go this time?”

If she had to be honest, she was toostunned to even respond.

No one knew what had actually happened toher after she had been cut down, save for him. According to Sakai-sama andToramatsu-kun, Ieyasu-sama had been the one who single-handedly took care ofher from the very start. While she could hardly believe that he had been ableto do such, as the lord of the clan was a busy man, he himself had confirmedall of the doubts she had.

And the doctor… he did mention that it was Ieyasu-sama who had stitched her woundshut, and even reprimanded him about it.

For him to rely on no one… it was anamazing feat that only he could accomplish.

A soft snore on her right shoulder shouldnot have surprised her, and yet, it still did. It seemed like the exhaustionhas taken its toll on him, and Sanae figured that there would be no talking fortonight at least.

There was always tomorrow.

With his grip on her shoulders now loose,she had managed to grab the thick winter blanket that had been discarded besidethem, and was just about done draping it over her lord’s body when the slidingdoors opened, revealing Sakai Tadatsugu.

“Ieyasu-sama, pardon me but—” seeing Ieyasuslumped over her had made the senior retainer blush, especially since theirpositions right now did look rather… compromising. “M-My apologies, I-I willcome back in the morning…! G-good night, Sanae-dono!” after a quick bow,Sakai closed the doors, though she could have sworn that she saw a smile on theelderly man’s face.

As much as she wanted to ask for the olderman’s help in putting Ieyasu-sama in his bed, she knew she couldn’t. In themidst of their argument, the can of salve had been laid forgotten in thefrenzy, especially since he had pinned her down on the tatami. Aside from that, she had been topless the moment he had satacross from her in preparation of applying the salve… and was still toplessuntil now.

Feeling her cheeks flame at the thought ofexposing herself to her lord far longer than necessary, she tried to sleep offthe embarrassment.

Needless to say, she was unable to properly sleep at all.

The sun was shining early that wintermorning, and as much as she wanted to get up and start her day, she couldn’t.Tokugawa Ieyasu, lord of the clan, was still sleeping, and no matter how manytimes she tried to push him off, it had been impossible. Not only that, but shedidn’t have the heart to wake him up, especially since he was sleeping sosoundly.

Unconsciously, she began running herfingers through his hair, feeling its softness. While she was well aware thatIeyasu-sama never really liked being touched, just this once, she knew she hadto take advantage of the moment.

This was the man who blamed himself, allbecause she had gotten hurt.

This was the man who had confessed hisfears to her, all because he thought she wouldn’t make it.

This was the man who made time for her inorder for her to recover and regain her strength.

“… The hell are you doing?” came the groggyresponse on her right.

He was up and awake, and the first thingshe noticed was how puffy his eyes were, all because of the crying he did lastnight.

As if sensing where her eyes were aimed, heglared at her from where he laid as he used his arm to prop himself up. “Wherethe hell are you looking at?”

Goodmorning to you too, Ieyasu-sama, she said toherself, struggling not to laugh as he began an early-morning tirade about howrude it was of her to forget what he had said yesterday about not looking athim. Despite the puffiness, she still found him rather handsome.

So distracted was she over his looks, mostespecially his eyelashes, that when he asked her if she was listening, she hadactually gave him a blank look, irritating him further.

“I said, are you listening—”

Before she could stop herself, she sent aquick prayer for her own safety, sat up, and kissed him on the lips.

Even she had no idea what possessed her tokiss him all of a sudden; all she wanted to know was if he was as passionate asthe man who had kissed her yesterday, and to her own surprise, he responded toher kisses as he ran a hand on her back, his fingertips lightly tracing thescar. Immediately, she felt goosebumps on her skin at the innocent yet sensualtouch, but ignored it, concentrating instead on how to divest him of hisclothing so she could touch him as well.

In the course of their kissing, he hadactually managed to sit her on his lap, her legs folded underneath her on oneside as she sat between his legs. As he parted her mouth and began sucking hertongue, she found herself moaning at the new sensation, though it did notdistract her from yanking his top down his shoulders, making him shudder as thecold air touched his naked skin. Momentarily, he pulled away from her, hisbreathing heavy, as did hers.

“I—” before she could utter another word,he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, pulling her closer as hischest pressed against her naked breasts, making her moan at the contact.

“Ieyasu-sa—MA!!!”

Immediately, she felt him move his body inan attempt to cover her from whoever it was that interrupted them. With hisback now facing the person who had opened the sliding doors, she was bothembarrassed and horrified to find out that it had been Sakai-sama who hadbarged in.

… And she had actually forgotten what hesaid last night about visiting Ieyasu-sama in the morning.

Before she could contemplate on what sheshould say, Ieyasu-sama had beaten her to it.

“Sakai,get out.”

A loud bang was heard as the sliding doormade contact with the frame; Sanae figured that Sakai-sama had also beenembarrassed upon seeing them in a state of… half-undressed, which was why thedoor had been slammed shut and the old man had left without any words offarewell aimed at any of them.

“That old man… I’m gonna turn him bald thenext time I see him.” absent-mindedly, he slipped her kimono back on her body before fixing his own, murder evident inhis eyes.

“I-Ieyasu-sama, I don’t think—” when heturned to look at her, she felt her face flame. “I-I think you should leaveSakai-sama alone… h-he didn’t meant to, and I-I forgot to tell you that hewanted to speak to you last night, but you were sleeping already so—”

He raised an eyebrow at what she had toldhim. “Sakai visited last night? How dare he—” before she could try and reassurehim that there was no need for him to hunt down the elderly man, he was on hisfeet and exiting the door, but not before giving her a peck on the lips. “Don’tlet anyone in here. Wait for me to get back and I’ll put more salve on your back.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him thatshe was no longer feeling any pain nor itch from her scar, but figured that ifhe wanted to be of help to her, she should just let him.

For now, she would just have to hope andpray that Ieyasu-sama wouldn’t be too harsh on his most loyal and most seniorretainer.

Sakai-sama,I’m so sorry… I’ll make you the best tea yet after this…!

“As long as you will allow me to stay byyour side… I will wait for you.”

She figured that what she said had startledhim, for his crimson-colored eyes widened in surprise upon hearing her words.

“So please… let me stay with you.”

“… Do what you want.” Despite sounded sodetached, she knew that she had won him over, as she noticed his face turning alight pink from embarrassment.

“And… another thing.” When he said nothing,she continued. “Please allow me to continue our previously-interrupted sleepingarrangement.”

“And why would you think I would allow youto do that?” despite the smirk on his lips, his tone had been playful.

“Don’t you agree that we both sleep betterthat way?” she asked him, smiling. “And as you have said… you need a heatsource. The winter in Hamamatsu is becoming particularly this time of year, andI do need a heat source to keep my warm as well.”

He sighed dramatically. “Such a demandingretainer. I should put you in your place once I’m done dealing with Sakai.”

“If you say so, Ieyasu-sama.” As shewatched his retreating back in search of the older man who had interruptedthem, Sanae found herself smiling once more, glad that despite the pain and themisunderstandings, she and Ieyasu-sama’s relationship had turned out to be betterthan she expected.

Despite everything she went through, shewas thankful that the incident had led them to become closer… and that it gaveher a chance to let her feelings known to the man who had done everythingpossible to keep her alive.

As long as he would allow her, she wouldstay by his side and support him in whatever way she can.

For now, she would have to wait until hewas back so that he could treat her injury… and they could probably continuewhere they left off before Sakai-sama had interrupted them.

My apologies if it took too long and if it dragged on and on.

Honestly, I had so many ideas for this fic, but decided to settle for the one that I think would fit both Ieyasu’s and Ieyasu’s MC’s personalities.

I am a bit satisfied with what I wrote, and I am kind of getting the hang of the Japanese honorifics, as I have been playing KoiRan nonstop ever since the ‘comeback event’ featuring Ieyasu and MC’s First Night together. Hopefully, I can keep on writing, and I hope my writing would become more consistent.

Again, thank you for reading all the way to the end. I hope you enjoyed it!