#apparently only one puff can kill you

[a-is-for-arson]

Guys I kinda accidentally huffed some random ass vape and then did it on purpose am I gonna die????

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

[hxney-lemcn]

The Dragon's Savior — Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you were tasked with slaying the dragon...so how did you end up living with the fae prince?

tw: death (?), idk (if I miss something tell me)

a/n: I'm so tired and I wanted this to be done, so sorry if the ending is a bit rushed.

wc: 3.9k

Master List

The dungeon was dimly lit, dank, and eerily silent. You were unsure how the torches were alight as this dungeon had been long abandoned. A plume of green flames in the distance seemed to answer your curiosity. You had been ordered by the high king to slay the beast. You were no knight or hero, but it seems like they were running out of men to send. Honestly, you didn’t want to do this. Everyone who’d entered this place hadn’t been seen again, and you didn’t want to become another victim of the scaly beast, yet it was either death by dragon or locked in prison for life. You’d take your chances with the chained creature. 

You weren’t sure how such a creature was chained down. As you continued on, you wondered why they only locked it up instead of killing it. As you continued through the giant halls, you paused at the entrance of a giant room. Large pillars rose on both sides, the room empty except for the metal of armor and bones that littered the floor…well, there are the previous knights and heroes that had their try at the dragon. Unlike them, you stood in just your tunic, a small sword and a satchel of miscellaneous items you brought just in case. As your eyes roamed the cavernous room, they landed on ink black scales, green slitted eyes narrowed on your figure. 

As you stood there, staring at the beast as it snarled at you, you felt your heart twist and break. You had never seen anything so beautiful before. A muzzle laid hazardously over its snout. The metal of the muzzle twisted and singed, the leather straps frayed if not completely snapped. You could hardly call it a muzzle as it rested above its snout, not covering its snarling mouth in the slightest. Perhaps whomever put this creature here planned for it to starve? Then your eyes landed on the chains that were clasped around its four limbs, a shiny silvery color, glittering gallantly under the green puffs that threatened past the dragon's lips. You were surprised it hadn’t killed you already, the two of you watching the other cautiously. 

Rage had started to consume you. It reminded you of a dog that had been abused and was going to be put down. A cornered animal that was merely trying to keep itself alive against whatever threatened it. Such a beautiful creature, whether it was a danger to people or not, had no right to be treated so inhumanely. You’ve only read old tales of dragons, they had nearly been wiped out, and the ones left remaining were in hiding. Apparently they lived for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you wondered what all the dragons in front of you had witnessed. How long was its life spent in a cage, hunted and threatened? The dragon was clearly here first, humans had no right to put them on a leash. 

Slowly, you lowered your sword to the ground, “Hello.” It’s ear twitched, eyes never leaving your form. It let out a huff and you took that as your cue to continue. Telling the creature your name, you felt a little silly, but it seemed to comprehend what you were saying, “I was sent here to kill you.” Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that as the being snarled, the frills on the side of its head standing. “W-wait, sorry, I just want you to know I’m not going to do that!” Its eyes narrowed, not seeming to trust you. Perhaps someone’s done this before, but tried to kill it when they got close enough. 

“I swear!” You exclaimed. “Here, I’ll kick the sword out of the room so I’m harmless.” When you did what you said, the dragon slumped down once more. It felt unnerving, having such a scary beast watch you so intensely, but you decided to continue on, even if you ended up becoming the beast's next snack. “Can I take your muzzle off?” You hoped that would show your intentions were pure, that you’d put your trust in the beast’s claws so it would let you help it. If you were going to jail for life for failing to kill it, you might as well let it free, no? You fidgeted as it watched you for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate your offer. You never realized how smart dragons were, it was almost like it wasn’t just a beast.

You jumped as the dragon set its head on the stoney ground and let out a small huff. Hesitating, you asked if that was it agreeing, in which it nodded. Taking in a deep breath, you felt yourself shake with each step you took. It really set in just how big the creature was when you finally were face to face. With its head fully on the ground, the top of its head (excluding its horns) reached up to your thighs. You stated your next move before you did anything, not wanting to startle it. Gently, you managed to remove the muzzle although it took a bit of work with the frayed edges. Out of nowhere, the dragon hit the piece of metal, quickly tossing the offending mouthpiece out of the room with a growl. The quick movements caused you to jump back, lifting your arms in a weak defense. When its mini tantrum was over, it let out a low grumble at you, its head once again resting on the ground. Blinking owlishly, you realized it was trying to calm you, almost looking sorry for its previous actions. 

“I…I can try to get y-your chains off,” You mumbled, trying to calm your shaking limbs. Its head tilted, so you explained, “I-I don’t have a key or anything, but I brought my lockpicking set. I’m pretty good at it, so I can try to remove your chains…” 

With its huff of approval, you dug through your satchel, taking out your lockpicking set. Kneeling down in front of one of its powerful front arms, you took in the type of lock and what best to use. Expertly, you stuck in two picks, slowly moving your tools until you heard the soft clicks. After a few minutes of trial and error, you managed to get the lock to open, and you gently tugged the metal off its wrist. To your horror, its scales seemed to have rubbed off, its skin a bright red. You felt yourself fret, now searching for anything you may have brought that can ease pain. What lowly, disgusting people to harm such a creature. Your scowl diminished when the dragon lightly nuzzled you with its nose, its eyes brightening slightly, then it motioned to its other wrist. Against your wishes, you ignored the chafed wrists of the being, focusing on lock picking the three remaining chains instead. 

When you finished, you weren’t sure what to expect. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy to the dragon, that you were worth to be left alive. Though, you wouldn’t blame it if it swallowed you whole, as it probably hasn’t had anything to eat in a while. To your shock, the dragon laid flat, fluttering its wings lightly. It stared at you expectantly, its head motioning to its back. Wait…it wanted you to ride it? You saw your life spiraling before your eyes…perhaps it was the moment it was declared you were to kill the beast. Between going to jail for life or…being a dragon's friend (?) you decided the latter wouldn’t be too bad. So you carefully climbed onto its back. You felt like you were on top of the world as it walked through the dungeon. As it climbed up the steps, you realized this dungeon must’ve been made specifically for dragons as everything was to scale for the giant beast. 

The bright sun shone on you both, the inky black scales turning an iridescent purple, its green eyes glittering. Your heart swelled at the sight, if you thought it was beautiful before, it is absolutely stunning now. You were quickly snapped out of your reverie when it snapped its wings, lifting off the ground with a gust. Trembling once more, you wrapped yourself around the dragon to your best ability to keep yourself from falling to your doom. You weren't sure how long the flight was as you kept your face in its neck, only glancing out every now and then. Your surroundings grew darker as clouds filled the sky, looking out, you noticed a castle that was surrounded by thorny vines. You blinked as that seemed to be your destination. The castle looked abandoned…and you suppose it was since the dragon was held prisoner. The place looked uninviting. Your dragon friend landed gently on the land in front of the castle, and you slid off slowly. Your legs shook, unused to riding any type of mount, but it didn’t seem to mind you holding onto it for stability. The stone bridge that led to the castle was completely covered in the thorny vines, the stones crumbling slightly. It seems the only way in or out was to fly. 

Once you trusted yourself to walk, the dragon led you into the castle. The dark bricks that built the castle made the space feel small even though it was grand, the silence felt unsettling and you felt a shiver run up your spine at the chill that filled the space. Even for how old the place seemed to be, it was still mainly all intact. Some debris here or there, but the stairs you passed seemed safe to climb and the walls weren’t crumbling. The dragon stopped in what seemed to be a throne room, two empty chairs sat up ahead, dust collecting over the room. Sitting, the dragon faced you, its eyes blinking at you like a lost puppy. If anything, you were the lost puppy here.

Before you could speak up and question what the course of action was now, a figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He looked human, but some of his features were warped. Pointed ears, slitted eyes, fangs. You felt your heart jump when you realized he was a fae, a being that was thought to be wiped out, the only proof of their existence being dilapidated buildings (that were slowly being taken over by humans) and mentions in history books of the great fae war. You coward next to your dragon friend, watching as the fae knelt to the ground, his next words shaking your entire being.

“Prince Draconia, it’s good to see you back.”

Prince? Prince of…the fae? You…what have you got yourself into? The surname Draconia has been drilled into your head when you read history books. The terrible Fae War that was meant to save humanity. To fight against the Draconia lineage and get rid of fae once and for all. Apparently the books had missed one important issue. And now you were in the dragon's den, literally and figuratively. 

“It seems like you’ve brought a friend,” The fae continued, crimson eyes falling onto your figure. 

The dragon beside you shifted, his form turning more human in nature. He could’ve fooled you if it weren’t for the horns that sat on top of his head or the green slitted eyes that seemed to stare through you. 

“This child of man broke me free from the prison they held me in,” Draconia explained, his bright eyes softening when they landed on you. “A truly strange individual indeed.”

“Should I prepare a room?” The fae responded, his smile seemed more mischievous than anything. 

“Yes,” Draconia nodded calmly while you felt like you were going to explode. This was all happening too fast. You thought you were going to be eaten by a dragon for Pete’s sake! Not end up saving a prince that humans wanted dead and end up as a guest in his palace! Although you felt like a whirlwind was storming through your mind, you were too meek to speak up, left to watch the events unfold before you. 

“I shall inform the servants of your return then, my liege,” The fae nodded. “Silver and Sebek shall be here shortly.”

Then in a poof, the fae disappeared. You turned to Draconia, unsure what to do or say. You were a mere peasant. A pickpocket, a lockpicker. You were not prepared for such a situation as you found yourself in. 

“Thank you, dear child of man,” The fae prince bowed his head towards you. “If not for your kindness and bravery, I would not be here for my people. In return, you will be granted whatever your heart desires.” Once again, you found yourself blinking owlishly, and saying the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s a dangerous offer.”

Stupid. Why the hell would you say that? Now he’s going to think you’re a threat and-

Is he…chuckling? Why was his voice so smooth? What the hell is going on? You needed some time to yourself to clear your thoughts. 

“Perhaps it is,” Draconia nodded, a fond smile resting on his lips (his fangs made it look a bit sinister but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be intimidating). “But I have trust in someone who was selfless enough to save not only a prisoner, but a dragon.”

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to ask for, “That’s a lot of trust for someone you don’t know.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, his amusement shining through his eyes. “Then perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

Damn he was smooth.

…

You found yourself not so easily forgetting about your past. The life on the streets, swiping food when you could, stealing others hard earned money. You weren’t proud, in fact, it was always like a cloud hung over your head. You could never keep a job, not that they paid well. And when you got the notice from the high king to slay a dragon you knew it was karma for living a dastardly life. 

But now you found yourself living in luxury, something you found hard getting used to. A bed bigger than you’ve ever seen, sheets so silky you felt like you were sliding around, meals so extravagant your stomach hurt just looking at it. Not to mention the handsome prince who’d watch you like you’ve hung the stars. 

It all felt wrong. Like you were an imposter. You have hurt people. It didn’t matter if you felt guilty because innocent people still dealt with the consequences of your thievery. How many went hungry because they ‘lost’ their coins? How many only broke even because you got your hands on their food without them noticing? You didn’t deserve the royal treatment you were currently receiving. Especially when your original goal wasn’t to save any prince or prisoner. You were sent there to kill a beast, and you merely found yourself empathizing with it. It was like stumbling upon a poor rabbit stuck in a trap, it would feel wrong to let it struggle until it died.

You felt sick as beautiful fabric draped over you, tailored to fit your every curve to the t. Jewelry covering any spots that may show skin. You weren’t stupid, you saw the way the servants would gaze at you coldly, the whispers that they carefully covered as small talk. Not only were you terrible to humans, but you were also a human. To fae that was the harbinger of doom. Apart of a people who attacked the fae for merely being different. Yes, fae were more powerful, but they kept to themselves. 

You were practically drowning in riches, and you could only think about the people who could use it more than you. Sure you’ve had your fair share of going to bed hungry, sleeping outside and being dirty more than you’d like to think, but you weren’t the only one. Perhaps you weren’t as built for living rich like you thought you were, you couldn’t help but muse. Oh how naive you were when you dreamt of riches beyond your imagination. 

Malleus observed your downtrodden state. How reluctant you were during meals, or how you looked at the jewelry adorning your body with so much disdain he could nearly feel it. You had managed to worm your way into his heart. Like in those human tales of the knight rescuing the royal, he found himself falling for his savior. Not because you were tasked to save him, or that you could’ve killed him but didn’t (it was clear the power imbalance between you both). It was because you saw him, in his full powerfully dangerous glory, and instead of choosing to kill, you chose to help. Something he hadn’t seen in any human before (not that he’s met many).  You continued to surprise him. You were clearly not from noble descent. Your ragged tunic and chipped sword were clear indicators of that when you both met. Not to mention how you seemed so afraid to touch anything, even after he stated you could have what you want, you were still considerate of him and his property. Instead of asking for riches or gems, you seemed lost. Unsure of what you may desire. During your stay, your personality truly shined. You were naturally polite, treating the servants and knights like they were people instead of objects (something even most nobles failed at). So when your curious shining gaze turned into one of guilt, Malleus couldn’t just do nothing. 

It was a gloomy afternoon. Briar Valley wasn’t the sunniest of places, you had learned. Malleus had invited you to have some tea in the palace garden, and who were you to deny him? You both sipped at your tea in a pleasant silence.

“How has your stay been?” Malleus was the first to break the silence. His bright green eyes watching you intently.

“More than I could ask for,” You replied, gaze falling onto your teacup. 

“...and that is a bad thing?” He read you perfectly.

“I…I just don’t feel like, like I deserve any of this,” You muttered. “I’m not a good person. Not in the eyes of my people or yours.”

“So that’s the problem,” Malleus hummed. His features softened, but determination shone clearly in his eyes. “I promise you that you are not as bad as you view yourself, child of man. You have been nothing but lovely since the day I met you. Your heart is truly bigger than most, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong. I couldn’t think of a better person to spoil.”

“I think you have a bias,” You grumbled, trying to recover from how easy it was for him to fluster you.

“I think you have one as well, dear child of man,” Malleus chuckled. 

…

You felt yourself slowly warm to your new life. Looked forward to seeing Malleus in the morning, seeing him off to his princely duties (as well as bidding farewell to Lilia). Although Silver and Sebek were Malleus’ retainers, he had ordered them to watch over you. At first it was daunting, but Silver was a sweetheart, and you slowly learned that Sebek didn’t actually hate you (hopefully), he was just very invested in Malleus’ wellbeing. 

Over time, you found yourself wanting one thing. One thing that seemed impossible for Malleus to grant. You wanted to stay. Not just as some random human who saved the fae prince, but as a part of the weird family that they seemed to shape. You hadn’t felt so happy in a long, long time. You couldn’t recall the last time you had no worries, felt relaxed, found someone so comforting. And as you sat at the dining room table, pushing around your food, Lilia decided to point out the very thing you’ve been avoiding.

“So,” The pink and black haired fae said your name mischievously. “Have you thought of what you desire from Prince Draconia?” This question caught the attention of said prince, his gaze steady like he was pinning you down. 

“Not really,” You smiled, waving off the question.

“Really?” Lilia asked with a fake pout. “‘Cus I’m pretty sure you thought of something quite specific.”

You tensed, shoulders raising, could he read minds? Was that even possible? Is he bluffing? Did your body language give you away? 

“Did you have something in mind, child of man?” Malleus joined in. When you glanced at him, you noticed how he seemed a bit deflated. 

“W-well…I have…” You stumbled. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s something you can grant…”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask~” Lilia chirped with a wink. “Malleus can grant more than you could imagine.” 

“Lilia is right,” Malleus agreed. “There is little I won’t give you.” Your heart raced at his deeply sincere vow. You kept yelling in your mind that he didn’t mean it romantically. 

Biting your lip, you decided to spill your wish, “I want to stay here…with you all…”

“Is that all?” Malleus asked, a bright grin tugging at his lips (it would be quite off putting as he always seemed so stoic, but you were too lovesick to think such a thought). “I would be delighted to host you here for as long as you wish.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Won’t that be weird? I’m no noble, or royal, or related to anyone here.”

“If that is a problem for you, there is a way to solve such a problem,” Malleus declared. 

“Khehe~” Lilia giggled. “It seems we’ll have some planning to do.”

You stared at the two confused, and they refused to elaborate. 

…

“Thank you,” You spoke up one evening as you stared at the roses that littered the garden. Malleus stood by your side, watching you lovingly. “For everything. You’ve done so much for me I can’t even explain it all.”

“I must thank you as well, child of man,” He replied in kind. “You have also shaped my future to be significantly brighter.”

“I suppose being freed from prison does that,” You teased, but Malleus didn’t smile nor did he laugh. 

“You’ve done much more for me than merely unbuckling chains,” Malleus stated, gaze intense with an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on. “You have also unburdened my heart from its lonely cage, each day is brighter with your smile, with your love, with your kindness. I wish for you to stay by my side for as long as you’ll have me.”

You hadn’t expected your small gratitude to be taken to such an extent. You felt your heart flutter and your knees get weak. Just what was he leading up to? There was only one end in sight and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such a proposal. 

“Would you do me the honor of ruling Briar Valley by my side?”

“M-mal…” Your voice trembled. You stared at him wide eyed, all the ways this could go wrong running through your head. “B-but I’m human…” 

“Such trivial things do not matter to me.”

“But your people!” You exclaimed. “Th-they’ll riot!”

“My people trust in my judgment,” He muttered. “Besides, isn’t this like your human tales? The knight marries the royal and they live happily ever after?”

Malleus was right. You were truly living in your own fairytale. Sure, it was a bit backwards, but as you stared into his bright green eyes, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, what knight wouldn’t choose the dragon?

[ohimsummer]

LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET ft. SUGURU GETO

— minors dni, light angst?, suguru x fem! reader, penetrative sex, mention of gojo x reader (one kiss), slight dumbification, nipple play, biting/hickeys, making out, lovesick! suguru, what could’ve been a creampie, pussy taps, dry humping, reader gets a little flustered (duh it’s suguru), pussy whipped suguru ?, a little proofread

wc 3.3k

Gojo had a lot of bad habits. Eating an over abundance of sweets, not taking things seriously, hiding his feelings, along with procrastinating and, more importantly, avoiding things he shouldn’t.

“Since when were you such a coward?,” Shoko asks and elbows him in the ribs.

He faces away, a lip jutted out as he mumbles a response. “‘M not a coward, I just don’t like her in that way.”

Suguru stands nearby, lighting a cigarette as he eavesdrops on the conversation. The lighter falls deep into his pocket, while he’s wondering how he could have such an absolute idiot as his best friend. People who don’t like someone else ‘in that way’ don’t get butterflies when they kiss that person, but he digresses. If Gojo wants to let you go and keep denying his own feelings, so be it. Suguru will gladly swoop you up and make you his own. Ever since that kiss you and Satoru had shared, one the former was adamant meant nothing because he definitely wasn’t in love with you, the two of you had been avoiding each other for a few weeks now. Well, Gojo was avoiding you. Geto discovered through Shoko that you just didn’t want to force him into anything, putting Gojo’s feelings above your own and essentially condoning his childish actions—and that you were struggling to come to terms with the fact that you’d wasted your first real kiss on someone who apparently thought you meant nothing special.

A week after the incident, Geto was over at your place again, as he often was since you two did hang out a lot. Shoulders drooped, the usual playfulness in your voice is gone, he never gets a good look at your face and that’s on purpose. At that point, it was too hard to conceal your emotions about the whole thing—Geto can read you like an open book, and the conversation wouldn’t be worth the heartache. You’re nothing like yourself. If he’s being honest, Suguru’s annoyed and a little bit jealous that you’re this way over his friend. He could treat you so much better. He’s not the type that needs to be pushed so hard just to admit his feelings; the type to just up and pretend his friend of almost a decade doesn’t exist anymore over one kiss.

It’s not like Geto was being unfair here. He’d been eyeing you for years already, anyway, stuck watching you pine after—and now, lose sleep over—his snowy-haired best friend. Almost two months had passed, and this was the final straw to push Geto over the edge. If the strongest sorcerer in the world was going to waste both his own and your time, then Geto would move things along himself.

“Glad your mission went well.,” Suguru says as you usher him into your spacious apartment, coming to check on you after an especially grueling curse you’d been assigned to kill.

“Oh yeah, easy-peasy.,” you laugh. Your hand waves through the air as if swatting away a fly. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

He’s used to this, your bravado after every mission, regardless of how dangerous it actually was. Something to lighten the mood after just putting your life on the line. You’re similar to Gojo in that aspect, only the tiredness behind your words and expression is far more evident, but you power through regardless. Calm and collected as ever, pouring yourself a glass of milk and gesturing a chilled water bottle at your guest in offering. Geto rests on the couch with an arm slung over the back as he watches you toss the half-empty jug within the fridge, before prancing over to him with a playful grin.

“Milk?” An airy chuckle puffs from his lips.

Your eyes narrow as you toss the bottle into his lap, your own glass hesitating before your mouth. “Listen, I had a craving while I was out, and it’s going to help my bones grow. I have to catch up to you and Gojo somehow.”

Your silly comment elicits a tugging at Suguru’s lips, ignoring again how you’ve started using his friend’s last name. There’s a flicker of discomfort that crosses your features at the thought of Gojo—he’s noticed your sudden unease at the mention of the sorcerer—before you’re chugging the milk in swift gulps. Geto sees the tension, traces of it at least, leave you through the relaxation of your shoulders.

“So,” you lower the glass just a little, tongue swiping the milk mustache below your nose. “Wanna watch a movie? You don’t have a mission tomorrow, right?”

A shake of his head. “Nope. I’m all yours for the night.” His cheeky words brings a warmth to your face.

Geto lets you pick the movie, giving in to you like he usually does, and accepts the invitation to sprawl out on your bed upstairs. It’s more spacious than the couch, and also adorned with various plushies to protect you both from the frights of the dreadful movie about to play. It’s a typical psychological horror—filled with cheap jumpscares and agonizing suspense in the form of characters lingering through the shadows. He’s never seen this film before, so Geto should be paying attention because he knows you like to discuss after, but he just can’t. Not with both your sides pressed together and the heat of your body radiating onto him, or when your head lolls against his shoulder, face half-hidden behind the fuzzy dog plush in your arms.

It’s sweet, the way you jolt when a character springs from behind a corner, squealing in fright, lowering just a little further behind the stuffed animal. His heart races a little faster when you cower against him, eyes soften a little more at your goofy comments about the idiotic choices of the cast members. You, laughing at your own words, which makes him laugh in turn, and Suguru feels like he’s just falling more in love with you and your being.

Another hair-raising scene occurs, and Geto slinks a comforting arm around your shoulder, face growing warm when you shuffle to sink further into him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the fear written on your face. It’s amusing and just endearing really, how you’re seemingly more frightened by the fake movie monster than an actual cursed spirit. His hand snakes over your face to cover your eyes, fingers spread so you may peek through, and Geto chuckles when you scrunch your nose up at him.

“Are you trying to say I look scared–!”, The accusation barely leaving your mouth before a loud gasp erupts from your throat, the source of your shock being the sudden loud noise of a bookshelf falling in the movie. Alas, your boldness is thwarted by another cheap scare.

“Ah, silly me. Of course not.” Geto’s voice is mocking as he brushes hair from your face. “So fearless, I can tell.”

“Shut up, that doesn’t count, you distracted me.”

He laughs again. “Oh, so you’re gonna pin that reaction on me?”

You mumble into the stuffed dog something unintelligible, face half concealed against Geto’s chest. His hand falls to rest on your shoulder, drawing circles and then hearts into the warm skin of your body. You squeeze an arm behind yourself to wrap around him, giggling when he turns to glance at your smaller hand on his other side.

“So you won’t be scared the rest of the movie.,” you tease with a toothy grin.

“Me?” He thinks you’re ridiculous in the cutest way. “I haven’t jumped once.”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re lucky I was too busy watching the movie to notice you shivering over there.” The faint smell of his cologne is intoxicating from this distance. “Your heart’s probably pounding right now.”

It is, Geto thinks, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Less of the movie, and more of your pretty face inches from his. The film continues playing on your laptop, a scene shot at night and through the dark screen, Geto admires you in the reflection. Those wide, doe-eyes seemingly hyper-focused on what’s in front of you, darting to take in everything on display—maybe you’d find an Easter egg in this shot, some reference to another movie, perhaps? Your breathing hitches when a sound makes the main character twist to look behind them, and Geto finds himself hugging you just a little bit tighter.

“I’m fine, y’know.” You huff the sentence out at him, catching his curious gaze through the dark reflection of your laptop. “Why are staring at me like that?”

Your head raises, turning to confront him. Amongst the love in Suguru’s eyes, you see hints of fondness, soft and subtle as he studies you. And behind that, something else that’s not so innocent. It all intrigues you.

“Got something on your mind, Suguru?”

This was supposed to be happening with Gojo. Or you’d originally hoped it would, anyway.

The movie was long forgotten, laptop dark as the credits had ended a while ago. The device teetered along the edge of your bed before falling, luckily cushioned by the discarded yellow puppy plush that’d met the floor through Geto’s foot.

Your moans bounce around the room, occasionally colliding with his grunts of satisfaction as Suguru’s tongue danced around in your mouth, him nibbling on your bottom lip as a hand crept up your shirt. Shaky legs squeeze around his waist, parted by Geto’s knee, and you grind against the flex of his thigh to relieve the building ache in your core.

There’s the soft smack of parting lips whenever Suguru breaks away, eager to shower kisses along your exposed neck, littered with the dark marks of his possession—then he returns for the taste of strawberry on your lips again. There it is again, this endearing sweetness about you, it’s engraved into your very being: your laugh, your smile, your silly jokes, the flavor of your kiss. A needy grip, wandering hands that don’t know their destination, rubbing over Suguru’s shoulders, his back, gripping his nape and threading amongst dark strands of long hair. In the back of his mind, he can’t help wonder if Gojo had an experience such as this and, if so, how he could ever risk never being able to go through it again?

It only takes one hand to unclasp your bra with expert fingers. The undergarment is inched away to expose your breasts, and soon, your shirt with it to leave your top half unveiled for Suguru’s longing gaze.

“Fuck, you’re perfect…,” he mutters to himself, pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. Satoru’s such an idiot, he thinks, missing out on this, on you.

Your hot pants graze his skin; fuzzy, indecisive eyes flicker between Geto’s flushed face and the prominent tent in his sweats, where it just brushes your panties and sends a flood of wetness between your thighs. Trembling hands finally find purchase on his shoulder and behind his neck, where you pull him towards your body, arched to raise your tits and the gesture sends an intense throbbing straight to Suguru’s dick. Offering yourself to him like that, wordlessly begging for his mouth to indulge in you—he’s wrapped so right around your finger, just a lovesick fool for you.

A sharp gasp slips out—Geto’s mouth meets one of your stiffened nipples, rolling it on his tongue before tugging it between his teeth. ‘Ah! Suguru!’ you mewl his name with your head sinking into plush pillows, and he gropes your other lonely breast with a large hand, thumbing the hard bud and pinching it between his fingers.

It’s easy to match the greedy rhythm of his hips, and you uplift your own to meet the grinding of his erection against your heated pussy. A loving kiss pressed to your chest, over the swell of your tits, a bite or two in between while he worships your body. “M—!” Geto cuts you off with a harsh suck of your nipple, prompting a desperate whine from your throat. “O-oh, god—! Fuck, Suguru, k-keep going!”

He pauses the feverish assault on your chest, licking a stripe up the center of your throat, and muttering sweet nothings over your glistening skin before continuing ministrations on the pebbled buds. Your legs hug tight around Geto’s hips, pulling him ever closer until the stiffness in his pants massages your clit through sopping wet panties. Drool soaks your chest, messy and riddled with a new array of bite marks and blemishes. Evidence of Suguru’s obsession, and a clear claim over you because you’re all his now.

“Suguruu…”, you jut out a lip when dark eyes move in your direction, tongue hesitating on your nipple. “Hurry, pleasee?” You whine and flutter long lashes, purposefully grinding against his length again in a needy plea.

He gives one last suck on the erect nub, causing your mouth to fall open with a small moan, and Geto balances himself on an elbow next to your head, easing fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. Snorting, his eyes trail over your heaving form, watching your own fingers tug at the hem of his pants.

“My darling’s so eager, isn’t she?” It’s a soft taunt that fills your ears, makes you conscious of the blazing heat in your veins that sets fire to your skin. “Can’t be that desperate for me, can you? Want me in this pussy that bad?”

Your clit throbs in response, and you keep fingers tucked into Suguru’s sweats, pulling them down for a glimpse at the dark hairs of his happy trail, before growing a little more embarrassed and hiding it away again. He chuckles at your shy behavior.

“Shut up.,” you search the room, pouting, for something else to look at. “You can’t get me like this and then be so mean.”

He lowers himself towards you. “Like what?” A little closer, now locks of his hair brush your face. “Getting this pussy all sloppy and wet for me? Begging to have my cum stuffed in her?”

Eyes widening, you break his gaze, cramming your lids shut as your face twists with a look of bashfulness. “God, Suguru, you are sooo–!” Hot? Dirty? Perverted? “Embarrassing!,” you finally groan in frustration.

Suguru sits up to stare down at the soaked wet patch staining your panties. ‘I’ll tell you what’s embarassing…’ and you give a playful glare at his comment. He chuckles, and adjusts both your legs to rest on his left side before fingers hook beneath the fabric, pulling it off in one swift motion. The slickness of your pussy is a sight to behold, mouth-watering. Juices cascade down your thighs, drenches his protruding digits as he slides them up and down your fluttering hole that threatens to suck him in and never let go.

“ ‘S not my fault, she just knows what she likes.” Geto marvels at how easily his thick finger sinks in, cock twitching at your lengthy whine. “And I think right now she’d like me to break her in.”

He’s so insufferable. “Suguru–“

“God, I’m gonna make this pussy mine, just wait.,” he sighs. The squeeze of your walls at his promise is mesmerizing—your words can’t fly high enough to reach him in the clouds. “Til you can’t remember anything but the shape of my dick, gonna breed this tight fucking hole–“

“I think actions speak louder than words, Suguru.”

Your little taunt pulls Geto out of his daydreams. “Oh, you’re going to be much louder than my actions, darling.”

It’s like sand on your tongue the way your mouth goes dry, him grinning at your flustered expression as he frees his cock from it’s prison. Precum drools from the tip, leaking down his length to leave a stain on his dark sweats. Your tongue darts over your lips, craving just a taste, a desire to encompass his bobbing length in the safe warmth of your mouth.

He glides it over your spasming pussy, making a mess as precum and slick smears everywhere. Amusement dances in Geto’s eyes when he slaps the tip a few times against your clit, sending a jolt through you and bringing a cry from within your throat. He does it again, circles your clit with his tip until your hips are gyrating to match his movements and tears prick the corners of your eyes. ‘Suguru…’ falls off your lips once more in a pathetic plea, and Geto can’t wait any longer when you blink so innocently at him, sigh so prettily at his teasing motions.

It burns a little, the stretch of his fat tip making its way inside. But Geto is slow and patient—he notes any sign of discomfort as he awaits your go ahead, as torturous as it is, especially when the deepest parts of your pussy are calling for him. Your gooey walls are snug around his length, holding him so tight and inviting him inside as inches sink deeper into your fluttering heat—it’s maddening. As Geto finally bottoms out, he cages you between his arms, face flushed pink and framed by long, jet-black waves of hair. So pretty. And his pleasured smile wavers for just a second. You’re so fucked out already that you don’t even know you just mumbled that out loud. Looks like you’re both a pair of lovesick fools.

“F–fuck me, please.,” you whimper. He won’t make you ask twice. Lazy yet deliberate, the drag of Suguru’s cock has your head reeling, especially when he keeps brushing that spot inside you, sending floods of euphoria throughout your body.

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “S-so full, Suguru, it f–eels, feels s’ fucking good, don’t stop.” And he replies with a low grunt, ‘shit, I won’t, could never’ as his pace quickens. Tears cast a blurry haze over your vision, sounds of skin against skin picking up in your ears, along with desperate, broken moans from either of you. The sharpness of your nails leave a collection of scratches along Suguru’s back, and the slight pain of it all only fuels the plunge of his dick, making itself at home within the gumminess of your walls. He uses a hand to shift your pelvis, moving himself for a deeper angle and fucking hard into your sweet spot. ‘Oh, fuck, fuck!’ You cry into Geto’s ear, tugging his hair and grasping at him to fit against you. ‘S-Suguru..! Right there–!’, finished off with a loud cry. Your orgasm is right around the corner, a blazing pool of desire overflowing in the pit of your stomach.

“C–um..!” You’re starting to babble, mindless and stupid. “Inside, inside, Suguru!”

And he wants to, trust, but it wouldn’t exactly be responsible without a condom on or knowing whether or not you’re on the pill. Maybe if he was a little less caring—or not tucked away in the crevice of your neck to hide from the hypnotizing power of your eyes—he’d make good on his promise and fill your pussy up until you couldn’t take it anymore. It’s so tempting, the heavy urge to mark your insides with his seed, til they were coated in white, but he just can’t be sure. So while you’re shivering and crying, high off your own orgasm, Suguru uses his last remnants of sensibility. He pulls out, low, raspy grunts and a hiss leaving him at the sight of his cum painting your thighs, spurting onto your swollen clit and leaking down to your quivering hole.

He collapses next to you, chests both heaving and an arm moves to wrap around your waist. Your teary eyes glaze over Geto in his divine glory, too dazed to see him doing the same to you.

“What’s with that face?,” he pants a short chuckle at the pout of your lips.

You turn further onto your side, pressing your bare bodies together and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other rubbing through his hair. “Told you to cum inside me, you wasted it everywhere.”

Suguru scoffs, playful. “Couldn’t risk it, sweetheart, I’d be hooked after one go.”

A shiver runs down his spine as you brush a thumb over his nape. “Oh, is that so bad? Thought you were gonna stuff me, Sugu, you don’t wanna breed this little hole and fill me up?”

“…Keep talking like that and I might.”

tagz: @anthoosies @mysugu

[daengtokki]

part three // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 14.4k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: angst, murder, blood, very brief m/m, bodily penance/self-harm, medication, sex, more blood

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

thank you again to @thackery-blinks, and also this song

˗ˋˏ♡ please reblog/tag if you enjoy, and help my work reach a wider audience. thank you friends!

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST ]

After the second cup of coffee, you start to pay more attention to the time. It feels like an hour has passed, at least, but you can’t be sure, because you have no idea what time it was when the two of you woke up this morning. It’s even colder now, and the draft continues to blow in—that’s how you know he’s still out there. Doing what, though? Being alone, yes…meditating? Punishing himself?

You fill a third cup of coffee and decide to let fifteen more minutes pass before checking on him. You could just get up and go now, but it doesn't feel like your place to question his actions. This is really none of your business. Should you make it your business?

His back is straight, his head is down…you can see the steady puffs of condensation leave his nose. The blanket you pulled from the couch is rolled up under your arm when you push the curtain aside and walk out onto the balcony. It’s even colder than you imagined, now that the walls of his bedroom are gone.

How could he have been out here for so long? Seungmin isn’t made of much; he’s thin. Tall and broad, yes, but thin. And though his body has been warm and comfortable when you’ve been close to him, he can’t possibly keep that warmth in him right now. He doesn’t seem to hear you approach, or kneel at his side. You unfold the flannel blanket, the same one he gave you before, and carefully wrap it around his shoulders, up to his neck. Now he moves a little, and when you rub your hand over his back and shoulders, he opens his eyes and looks at you.

“Why are you out here?”

“Why are you?”

“Come back inside, please”

“Are you sure?” He grabs the blanket and pulls it around him.

“Yes, of course, I’m sure”

He nods, but he doesn’t move yet. Maybe he needs to find some energy first—there’s no way he has any left now. His legs look lifeless and pale, but they still work when he gets his feet flat on the ground. You follow him as he rises, hold his arm, and you’re surprised that he lets you guide him back inside.

He starts toward the door.

“No, you should get back into bed”

“I need some coffee.” His voice is so small, and weak.

“I’ll bring you some”

Seungmin stops, and stands there for a few seconds.

“Please”

When you return, he’s halfway under his covers with the blanket still wrapped around him.

“If you still want to be alone, I won’t stay in here”

“You can stay”

“Okay…” you climb onto the bed, find a spot in the middle, close to him, but not too close, and watch him as he quietly shivers. His cheeks and ears are red and chapped from the wind, and his usually pouty pink lips are pale and barely there against his colorless face. “Get all the way under the covers.” You reach a hand out to touch his neck, and he jumps.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you before”

“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me”

“I didn’t?” He reaches out and lifts your shirt, and the marks look even more apparent. A few bruises are already starting to bloom where his fingers pressed. “I did.”

“Lie down, you’re still shivering.” His hand is like ice when you grab it, but he shakes free and sets it flat across the bruises. It feels so good, but you try not to make your content sigh too obvious. “Okay, okay…lie down.”

Seungmin listens this time, and you decide to take a chance and move closer. You still don’t know why he was out there, or why he was torturing himself, but maybe he’ll allow you to wrap an arm around him and pull him even closer. His body is so cold, you’re not sure you have enough heat in you to help, but you’re going to try. You’re not sure why, but you know he would do the same for you.

/ / /

Wrapped up…that’s really the only way to describe him this time. Seungmin’s long limbs are all over you, holding tightly. The look on his sleeping face, at least what you can see squeezed against him, is the most content you’ve ever seen it. He’s sleeping like a puppy curled up in a heated blanket. And that’s exactly how you feel—warm, damp with sweat. Too warm. Seungmin’s heat returned, and then some. His cheek feels like a radiator when you touch it.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbles, moves around a little, then settles again. “Why am I so tired?”

“Because you sat outside for hours and it’s -2 degrees”

His eyes pop open like he’s wondering why someone is in his bed, answering him. He lets go, pushes himself back, and examines you.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Well, maybe he’s not all there yet. It doesn’t matter. Something about being in bed with him like this again blurs everything. You’re comfortable and warm here, and this is all that’s mattered. You should probably check your messages, your email, your bank account…something—your family might actually be worried enough to send money. It doesn’t matter, though. You don’t plan on going anywhere right now.

“I need to shower, and go out…what time is it?”

“Go out? Why do you have to go out?”

“I have to find…” Seungmin stops and looks at you again. “Someone.”

“Already?”

“Yes”

When did he do this last? Did he do it recently? The last time you asked him, it was in the park, and he told you he killed someone the day you met. After you met, because he didn’t kill you. You can’t even remember how long ago that was, so you close your eyes and think…two weeks, and—

“It’s been two days,” he says.

Oh, it was recent. You find yourself looking around the room as if you missed some clue about his recent activities. Is that why the bedding is all new? Did he do it right here on this bed? “Two days?”

He rises slowly. The arm that’s still draped over your hip slides away, and he stumbles a little as he gets to his feet. “Yeah, on Friday. After I thought you left.” And he’s gone without another word.

You hear him in the shower—he’s in there for a very long time, and when he finally comes out, a cloud of steam follows him. He’s still dripping wet, and his hair is slicked back so tight, he almost looks like a different person. And he’s completely naked. No towel wrapped around his waist, no shorts, just wet skin glowing in the sunlight. Seungmin makes himself more coffee, an iced one this time, and doesn’t say a word as he sips and looks absently at his phone.

He takes his coffee to the bedroom, and he comes back out a few minutes later, partially dressed. All you can do is watch, nervously, as he approaches where you sit at the corner of the couch. Why are you so nervous? Seungmin isn’t even looking at you— he’s staring at the floor, and then at whatever small thing he has in his hand. He holds it out and waits for you to take it before speaking.

“Get whatever you need, or whatever you want…both,” he says softly—practically whispers it. “Max it out, I don’t care.”

If you didn’t assume he planned on doing this since last night, you’d think it was his indirect way of apologizing. Seungmin clearly has money to throw at things to make them go away, or to bring them closer to him. You’re not sure which of those he wants from you right now.

This was your first time shopping in Seoul, and it was overwhelming being on your own in the crowds, but you have to admit it had its moments of calm, and even a few moments of joy—particularly when you found a dress very similar to one that you lost, and especially when you stumbled upon something that reminded you of Seungmin. It seemed silly to get, but it seemed still to pass up, too, and you haven’t decided yet if you’ll give it to him. But you have it just in case. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood after a few more hours of solitude. Maybe he won’t be as bad as you think he’ll be at accepting gifts.

The apartment is dark, and very quiet when you return. Seungmin gave you a copy of both keys, and the code to the final lock—being trusted with that did feel good, and it made your morning a little better after his standoffish attitude. It does make it feel like last night's comments probably weren’t the truth, but you still have to wonder about everything else. You set the bags down and look around; the kitchen light is on, and you can see some soft light coming from the crack beneath his bedroom door. There is sound, but it’s very quiet and you can’t catch any type of conversation.

The closer you get, the more confusing it becomes, until it finally hits you—you think you know what you’re hearing, and it throws your heart into your throat, and you feel a little sick. Seungmin is moaning, over and over, but it’s not quite how he sounds when he’s with you. It’s a steady rhythm, and then he stops…starts again, stops. It almost sounds forced, but he’s the only sound you can hear. Maybe he’s getting himself off; maybe last night wasn’t enough. You don’t want to interrupt him if that is what’s going on, but when you hear another voice, you really start to feel sick.

“Is that good?” the voice says. It sounds masculine, but still, it’s hard to tell for sure. You can’t understand it, anyway. You don’t hear Seungmin’s response, but the other person laughs, and you feel your entire body start to heat up. It could be from anger, or embarrassment, or sadness...all of the above. You feel pretty stupid standing there, but it’s not like Seungmin is your boyfriend. He’s not yours, and you guess you’re not his, either. No, he just took in a stray and gave it unlimited money to shop, absolutely no big deal. Nothing serious.

“Yeah, you are…” Still the nameless, faceless voice. Definitely masculine. “Come back, don’t be a tease.”

You take a few steps back. The language barrier means you can’t say for sure what’s happening behind that door, but it feels obvious. The deep, sensual whispers and the moans can only equal one thing.

“Yeah, keep going”

It’s Seungmin’s voice that time. And then everything goes quiet. A few seconds later, he comes, loudly. And then it’s quiet again.

You take a few more steps back until you hit the side of the kitchen counter, and it’s then that you hear a loud thud. Very loud, like something heaving hitting the ground.

“Fuck…what are you doing?” This time, the voice sounds…angry? No, surprised, confused. It’s hard to tell even as you listen as carefully as possible. Your head is swimming with every strange thought, though. “No…stop, please.”

“What the fuck?” You say out loud to nobody. Your legs are trembling. Another loud thud makes you jump, and then you hear Seungmin. It almost doesn’t sound like him, but you know it’s him. It’s big, and deep, and unlike any version of him you’ve heard…

“Fucking…hold still. Fuck, give me a break.”

The door shakes, the doorknob turns, and as soon as it swings open, all you see is the stranger's terrified face. He’s half-dressed, jeans still mostly zipped, but he slips a little as he makes a run for the door. Seungmin is right behind him, and you just barely see the shine of his knife as he runs by.

Your legs tremble more, and you don’t know how you’re still standing. The feeling of needing to vomit now hits, but nothing happens when you lean forward—just a dry heave, and then your throat tightens right back up. He doesn’t see you…he has one thing in his sights, and it’s almost at the door you’re pretty sure you left unlocked.

The man stumbles again, and Seungmin grabs him by the back of the neck as he falls forward onto the carpet. But he screams, and it’s so loud. You see the glint again as he pulls back and plunges it into the side of his neck. The sound…you think you actually hear the metal as it slides through his skin and tendons and cartilage. Did you really hear it all the way over here? You did hear Seungmin’s angry growl, and you can still hear his heavy, uneven pulls of breath. Finally, you fall to your knees and take one deep breath. The light-headedness outweighs the feeling of vomiting, but you manage to keep it together.

“Son of a bitch,” he says, in English this time, and you definitely hear the blade being pulled out and thrown to the side. It bounces and makes a mess everywhere it hits, and it lands right next to one of the bags you brought home.

Seungmin sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair, “another fucking mess.” He says it in a sing-songy voice as he turns his head and looks for his knife.

You can see his face now, and it changes immediately when he notices the bags. His eyes grow, and his tongue pokes out a little between his lips. First he looks at his work again, and the mess of blood slowly pouring onto the carpet. Then he looks at the door, which you know he can see is unlocked. If the stranger would have beat him to it…well, you’d rather not think about that. Finally, he turns his head. His eyes seem to soften as they land on you, and something about his face looks guilty.

“Hey,” he says, and very carefully stands up. Seungmin towers over the body, examines it again, and then adjusts his shorts. It’s the only thing he’s wearing, except for two silver necklaces, and a little bit of blood on his stabbing hand. “Hey…I thought you’d be out longer,” he quickly closes the space between you and kneels a few feet away. "Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

You stay in your spot and watch him as he heads for the sink to wash his hands…once, and then a second time.

“You okay?” He kneels again, much closer this time, and places his hand on your knee. “Hm?” Seungmin keeps his face relaxed, and his eyes heavy, as if he’s trying his best not to make this seem as serious as it really is. To him, it is nothing, you think, and he may be lacking a bit in empathy, but he’s smart enough to know that what you just witnessed was a lot. “Do you wanna stand with me?”

No, you don’t, but you nod anyway and give him your hands.

He stares at you for a long time, silent, wondering what to say next. “Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower? I’ll set some clothes in there for you.”

“Why?”

“Because when you come out, you’ll feel a little better, and everything will be back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah, mostly. Please, just give me…30 minutes.”

“How are you going to fix this in a half an hour?”

That’s a very good question. Seungmin can clean up in that span of time, but he certainly can’t dispose of this body, as well. Luckily, he usually has a backup plan floating around in his head. “You’ll have to believe me.” He relaxes the vice grip he has on your wrists and slides his hands up your arms. “Try to.”

/ / /

He digs out the hard shell suitcase from the living room closet, and thanks himself for choosing a smaller kill this time. This is not how he likes doing things, and the knife is also not his favorite, but what he really doesn’t like is having an audience. This is a first. At least he didn’t know until after the fact.

As soon as the body, his shoes, his shirt, and whatever else he took off, is out of his sight, he focuses on the carpet. He rolls the rug up neatly, cuts it off as cleanly as possible, and wraps it as tightly as he can in several layers of garbage bags. Luckily, nothing made it down to the hardwood floor. Only a few little spots from the knife need to be cleaned. And the knife, of course. The biggest problem now is how he’s getting this down 26 floors to the basement, two separate times before he has a chance to get to the bedroom.

Seungmin tries his best, and he underestimates how good he really is. He locks everything away in his basement storage, for now, and gets back to the apartment with time to spare. Maybe you’ll give him a few extra minutes. Or maybe you’ll stay in there until he comes to get you.

The bedroom isn’t bad, but you know what was going on in here. He pulls off the bedspread and replaces it with a heavy blanket, just big enough to cover the king-size bed. The clothes on the floor get tossed in the hamper. Everything is thrown back in his drawer, neatly, or in the trash. He’s never worked so fast, because he’s never had to, and he really hopes he never has to speed run this again.

Last, he looks down at himself. He’s sweating, and out of breath, but luckily, he can’t find a splatter of blood on him. He rips off the tshirt and sweatpants, and replaces them with fresh ones.

You still haven’t made a sound, thirty-seven minutes later, so Seungmin knocks… “Hey, do you need anything?”

“Can I come out?”

He smiles at your small, timid voice. “Yes, you can come out.”

Seungmin looks around with you, a little paranoid he forgot something in his rush, but everything looks normal. Everything except the missing piece of carpet. He follows as you walk over to inspect the area, and when you seem satisfied, he follows into the bedroom.

“Where is it, the body?” You look around carefully. This is the first time you really explore his bedroom, and Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind when you end up at one of his bookshelves.

“Not here, not in the apartment.” He watches your hand reach for the music box, but you don’t open it. Your finger slides over the lid, and then you move on to the withering vase of flowers.

“You need some fresh heliotrope. We can change the water, though…they might perk up for another day.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Seungmin’s heart starts to race, and he doesn’t know why. It picks up even more when you return to the music box, gently pop the latch, and open it. He holds his breath, but luckily, he didn’t wind it. It’s quiet.

“Oh, this…” a dainty silver chain is pinched between your fingers, but you examine it closely before you continue, “no, it’s almost the same.” You hold it up so the St. Michael medallion hangs and sways like a pendulum. “Is this yours?”

“It belonged to my mother. So did the music box.” Seungmin reaches out and grabs the charm between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I guess it’s mine.” How did we get from there, to here? he thinks to himself. You don’t ask him anything else—you carefully set the necklace back inside, close it, and pick up the vase of flowers.

“Where did you get these? Is there a greenhouse nearby?

It takes so much of his energy not to tell you exact truths right now, and he doesn’t know why. Seungmin can’t help but want you to ask him what happened; what did you walk into? Why aren’t you more shaken by this? You did have time to think in the shower, but thinking is one thing, and demanding more information is another. He was actually ready to explain himself. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Can we go get more?” Your voice fades as you head for the kitchen, to the sink, where you carefully replace the water in the vase.

No, Seungmin doesn’t think he can handle that right now. He’s never quite sure when he can, and he usually has to force himself. That might be the case soon. He does need to replace these.

“You gonna dry these, too?”

“…are you okay?”

He assumes by the long silence and the way you’re staring at the flowers…probably not. It was a good act, but you still don’t say anything when you walk back to the bedroom and set the vase back in its spot.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Again, you leave the room. Seungmin is beginning to dislike not getting a proper response from you. “Dammit…will you please just answer me?”

You’ve been trying to think of a way to answer him—you really have. This entire day, aside from your alone time shopping, has been strange, and so uncomfortable. He can’t possibly expect you to just be okay, though…Seungmin isn’t stupid. He just wants something, anything besides you changing the subject again. But how are you supposed to tell him the kill wasn’t the worst part? Or that you weren’t even completely sure he was telling you the truth about his killing? You actually thought for a moment that he made the whole thing up, or exaggerated. You don’t have to wonder about that anymore. He did it, and it wasn’t his first time. “I’m okay, it was just,” you think, stall for another few seconds, “hearing you in there with someone else caught me off-guard.”

“Oh, that’s all? I thought I scared you...set off another panic attack, maybe.” The look you give him makes him revisit his response. “It was just a blowjob, I barely touched him, but that will happen again.”

“I know”

“You're jealous?” Seungmin smirks and takes a step toward you. “Is that it?”

“No, I’m not jealous,” you lie. What a stupid lie. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Nobody else lives in my house, or spends my money.” Another step. “Right?”

“Yes”

Close enough to kiss, but no. He reaches out, touches your neck, and leans forward as he does, “nobody else sleeps in my bed.” You can see yourself in his unblinking eyes, until he’s even closer. His lips ghost over your forehead, moving slowly over your temple, and to the spot just above your ear. He kisses once. “Just you.”

A moment of courage comes over you—he’s so close, and he smells so good, and you need to touch him. His hips feel good in your hands, and when he makes a sound, you move them slowly up his sides. You haven’t forgotten, he’s sensitive here.

Seungmin moves down until his breath tickles your ear, “but nobody touches you,” he kisses again, “or I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t want anyone else”

“Good. Now…are you gonna show me what you bought?”

/ / /

“I can try some, right?” He leans back on the couch, yawns, and stretches. Everything suddenly feels very normal. He feels like himself right now, and you suspect it’s his post-kill high.

The way his eyes follow you all over the room is suffocating, though. For some reason, it's making you feel shy, and way too seen. You can’t figure out what it is he sees in you, and what wants from you, and from all of this. What are you giving that somebody else couldn’t? If you knew what he looked for in his victims, maybe it’d be easier to figure out, but you don’t know. You don’t know why he talked to you that morning.

“Yeah, you bought it”

One of the things you bought, something you definitely didn’t need, was 70,000 won almond blossom tea. You only wandered into the shop to escape the crowd, but the owner let you try a sample, and it was impossible to pass up after tasting it. The scent, and the flavor took you back to the warmth of him wrapped around you this morning. It felt good.

Seungmin sneaks up behind you, and when his hand squeezes your waist, the hot water almost ends up on the counter. “It’s pretty…it smells nice,” he’s so close, you can almost feel his lips on you. “How long?”

“Two minutes.” You didn’t think brewing tea would make him so touchy and sweet, but you’ve started expecting pretty much anything from him. “Maybe a little less.”

“Show me something you bought”

“Pick something”

He slides away and heads for the three large bags at the end of the couch, and then he peeks in each one. “Okay, let’s try this one.” He reaches in and pulls out a smaller bag from inside the large one.

“Oh, maybe not that one…”

“Why not?”

“Pick something else”

“Okay, I’ll try again.” He reaches into another large bag, and again, pulls out a small one. “This one, you can’t say no.”

You nod and hand him his tea, “I won’t say no,” and take a sip. He does, too, and you watch him. “Do you like it?”

Before he answers, he takes one more slow sip, and a smile appears. His cheeks round out, and you see the shine of his teeth behind his lips. “I do…it’s nice and sweet.”

“Good,” you peek in the small bag and pull out a flat white box.

Seungmin watches the little golden movements as he swirls his cup, closes his eyes, and drinks again. Memories pop up in his mind: the kitchen, and the sun coming in through the window above the sink. His favorite chair—it faced the stove where he watched her cook every morning, every afternoon. Bundles of dried flowers hanging by the doorway, and the sweet smell of yakgwa if he behaved all week. Sometimes even if he didn’t.

He doesn’t realize how quickly he drains his cup, and he hopes you’ll make him another one.

“Hey…you there?”

“Hm? Yes, I’m here…sorry”

“I wasn’t sure about getting them, or about getting anything for you. So I hope it’s okay.”

“You bought something for me?" His eyes grow as he looks at the box, "this was supposed to be your shopping trip.”

Still soft, and you hope with everything you have that he stays like this for a little longer. Tonight, in the morning, and maybe through tomorrow. You think it, scream it in your head. Maybe he’ll pick up on it just enough. Maybe it’s the tea. You should make him more.

“I know, but…”

“Let me see," he moves the tissue paper out of the way and looks, touches the soft fabric first, and then carefully picks it up.

“It’s corny, I’m sorry”

“Corny? No, they're beautiful.” He reaches in and picks up the second silky handkerchief, and runs his thumb over the embroidered purple flowers, every petal, “and these won't die." Seungmin keeps one and hands the other back to you. You don't know, of course, but this is the first gift he's been given in years.

“Oh, they came as a pair…you don’t want both?”

“No, you keep one. It doesn’t look like you bought much for yourself.”

He’s right, you didn’t get as much as you should have, and that explains why you got back early and interrupted his work. You should have made a list.

“We can go again tomorrow. Maybe you just need company.”

“Company? You’re gonna go shopping with me?”

“Yes, we can do that. We can get lunch somewhere nice, and maybe we can go get more flowers...what? Is that okay?”

Whatever confused look you’re giving him, he caught it. This is the Seungmin from last night, just happier, and more euphoric. “Yeah, we should do that. How about we have more tea, and then we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

“It has, but I need to bleach my hair”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I almost forgot. There were a lot of people around earlier, when I…you know, picked him.”

“I can help if you’d like. And make you some more tea.”

/ / /

The orangey-blonde head of hair sticking out from the covers confuses you in your half-sleep. It’s early, and you set an alarm, but you can’t remember why. Last night hasn’t come back to you quite yet. The puppy plush is in the gap between you, and you really don’t remember putting him there last night. But he’s there, sitting up, almost like he just walked up and took a seat. He’s still a mystery, just like his owner.

The bleach job didn’t work as well as he’d hoped last night, because he forgot he just tried to darken it a few days before. It’s still soft and pretty, and even in his sleep, his bangs frame his face perfectly. Lucky for him, he’s handsome enough to pull anything off.

Seungmin squirms, rolls onto his other side, and settles again. Now, looking at his face, you remember why you set that alarm. How could you forget? You have the day planned out with him, and you’re counting on a smile when he finally wakes up. Something put him in a better mood, a mood good enough for a date, and you suspect it was two kills in three days. He moves again, but you don’t want to wake him yet. He looks happy, or at least comfortable. If he’s dreaming, it’s not strong enough to show, so maybe he got a good night of sleep. Again, you think, hope, plead for the same man to be there when he wakes.

His eyelashes flutter a few times, and open slowly. Close again, open. He looks at the dog, blinks, and then he finds you. Your stomach swirls with butterflies as he stares, and finally, after really waking up, a smile pulls on his lips—a sweet, sleepy smile.

“Jal jat-ssuh?”

“Ne,” he laughs. “That sounded good. Did you?”

“I did”

“Is my hair still orange?” He sits himself up and pulls on a piece to check.

Hopefully it doesn’t discourage him from today’s plans. Hopefully he remembers today’s plans. “It is, it looks good on you, though. A very handsome tangerine.”

“Tangerine? Do you like tangerines?”

“I love them”

“We’ll get some today”

He didn’t forget, and he’s still okay. Seungmin’s head falls back to the pillow, eyes close again, but his smile stays on his lips. And then he starts to hum. If this mood lasts long enough, maybe you can finally hear him sing. You let him go for a little while longer, until he starts to quiet, probably dozing off again…

Seungmin is cute when he’s focused, and he’s very focused on the grill between you; poking and flipping the meat, plating it carefully. His mouth is squished to one side, and the dimple on his cheek is especially noticeable.

“You’re good at this”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I’m so used to eating alone. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I am, too, it’s okay.” You take the plate from him, and he hands you a few of the things he hoarded on his side of the table. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” He takes a very big bite of zucchini, and it takes a few moments for him to get it down. “I feel…pretty good. Better now that we’re eating. I don’t like being hungry.”

“Good. The mall was pretty crowded, so it was nice not being alone. Still, it’s a little overwhelming.”

“We shouldn’t have to do it again for a while. I think we replaced everything you lost, plus extra.”

“Too much extra”

“No, not if it makes you happy”

Happy Seungmin is still here, and now he has a full stomach...even better. You can’t get attached to this feeling, but you’ve become much more attached to him than you thought was possible it such a short amount of time—all of him, good and bad…and the bad still seems to outweigh the good by a lot. It doesn’t seem believable, looking at him right now, but this was him the day you met, you think. Maybe not completely, because he was obviously on the hunt when you showed up, but this Seungmin was there, a little bit. You could feel it—he felt right. He still does.

“Sitting here with you makes me happy”

He stops stirring his broth and looks at you. Was that too much? It was too much, you might as well have just told him you love him. What if you trigger something, and whatever is going on in his head changes completely? You need to get a hold on whatever is going on in your own head. He’s staring, and you can feel it, even with your eyes fixed on your plate.

“Why?” He whispers. You barely hear it, and it’s as if he’s speaking to himself. Asking himself. “I haven’t done anything to make you feel that way.”

“Yes you have”

“Tell me”

The server interrupts with more banchan, more water, more tea. It gives you a whole ten seconds to think, and not sound like an idiot when you answer. Does he really want to know, or is he just putting you on the spot?

“You came back for me, and you took care of me…do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“I tend to forget what I say, apparently”

There’s some attitude in his voice, and you immediately regret saying it. He obviously remembers you asking him the same thing yesterday morning.

“I remember. Depends, though, I said a lot of things.” He moves his eyes around as he thinks, and you’re relieved to see a smirk pop up. “But I assume you’re referring to…killing anyone who touches you.”

He did say a lot of things last night, but yeah…you nod at him.

“You liked that.” No more attitude. He whispers, almost growls under his breath. “Didn’t you?” His eyes are so heavy, and dark. He’s still smiling, but it’s different. It’s so much different. “You did.”

“Maybe”

“Speaking of that..someone in here has been staring at you since we walked in”

“I doubt that”

His eyes move slowly to the left, and stay there. You look in the same direction as discreetly as possible, and you see who he’s talking about—it’s the bartender, and Seungmin is right. He wipes down the bar and smiles at you, but looks away almost immediately after. Maybe the timing was just a coincidence, though.

“He’s just looking. He barely looked.”

“I don’t really like that, either”

“Seungmin”

A shiver runs over you when he says your name…whispers it. “Why don’t you get up and head to the bathroom. Leave the door unlocked.” He cocks his head to the side when you don’t move, or respond. “Please.”

He smiles when you push your chair back, and shows you all of his teeth when you stand. Still happy. If this keeps him that way, he doesn’t have to ask again—as if you'd deny him. Your legs already shake at the thought of him touching you. The bartender's eyes are on you as you walk by, and you feel them linger as you disappear down the short hallway toward the (luckily) private bathroom. You close the door, lean against it, and look around. It’s nice, at least.

Thirty or so seconds pass between you closing the door, and his soft knock. You don’t know why your heart races. It could be that you’ve never done this before, and it doesn’t help that the bartender saw both of you come back here, and he knows exactly what’s going on. If you’re nervous enough, you won’t be able to do this, and he’ll be very disappointed.

The doorknob turns, and he comes in slowly. It’s just Seungmin, there’s no reason to be nervous, and it’s just public sex…very public for you…but your stomach drops when you see someone else…not him, not even close. You only see the face for a split second before he disappears—pulled backward so fast, and with so much force, the door slams shut again. A thud on the other side of the wall echoes through you, through the bathroom, and you have to assume through the entire restaurant. And then, right before you pull the door open, you hear it again. The man—the bartender, is on the floor, flat on his back with one hand covering his bloody face, and there’s a crack in the plaster wall. Seungmin is standing over him, still seeing red, but showing some restraint by not touching him again.

“Wh-what happened?”

He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “Naleul bwa...” He nudges the man with his foot until he removes his hand and looks up. “Creep.”

A small crowd gathers at the end of the narrow hallway, but he pushes through, still holding you close. Nobody says a word or stops you as you grab your bags and head for the door, and as soon as you get outside, you’re both lost in the crowd.

“Stop, stop…Seungmin!”

“Yeah, what is it?” He slows down, but he doesn’t stop. “You okay?”

“What the hell happened?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s walking you as far away as possible, as calmly as possible. The look on his face is familiar, but different…nervous, worried, excited maybe. You can tell his adrenaline is sky high, and you don’t know why, but you assume this is unusual for him—this somewhat random act of violence. Almost everything you’ve witnessed from him has been disjointed and clumsy, but he hasn’t been caught yet, so you know he’s been careful up until this point. You’re messing him up.

Finally, he stops and lets you catch your breath.

“We’ll head back, drop your things off…”

“Seungmin”

“I’ll drive us to Uljin, if you still want to get flowers”

“Uljin?”

“Yeah, let’s go before we miss the train”

The train is crowded, of course—standing room only, and Seungmin’s fingers grip your wrist the entire time. He’s clearly overwhelmed and soothing himself; there’s nothing romantic or possessive about it, he’s just suddenly very nervous about something. Either the crowd, or what just happened. You change the subject for now, not wanting to move his mind around the incident anymore than necessary. “Uljin is far.”

“I know. I can get us there in three hours, and if you’re tired we can wait until morning to drive back.”

You close the space still left between you, until your face grazes his sweatshirt, “why so far for flowers?” The small corner of the silk handkercheif just pokes out from his back pocket. You didn't notice it before, or catch him putting it there before you left this morning.

“They’re the best ones. And they’re always there for me.”

The ride wasn’t as long and awkward as you feared it would be. Both of you were silent most of the way, but Seungmin kept his music low the entire time, not once deviating from whatever playlist he initially put on. It feels like he’s made this drive more than a few times, and he has a set routine. As you moved closer and closer to the end of the drive, everything became greener, and darker. Lush and beautiful in some spots, but desolate and almost forgotten in others. It all seemed to reflect him.

You’re not sure how far out you are from the destination when he makes the second and final stop, but it’s been three hours, almost exactly, so you wonder why he made another stop at all.

He doesn’t go inside the gas station, but you do. For no reason, really. You check yourself in the bathroom mirror, grab some water, and then watch him for a moment before leaving. Maybe he just needed to stretch his legs—he’s walking slowly toward the edge of the pumps, and then across toward where a small section of woods start. It zig-zags upward and into a much larger section that you can’t see the end of. Seungmin is staring through those trees, hands in his coat pockets, and he doesn’t move when you exit and jingle the bell above the door.

“Here, you haven’t had anything since we left.” He looks at the bottled water in your hands, sighs, and takes it.

“About twenty minutes…we should be there”

“Where exactly is there?” Seungmin downs half of his water before stopping and taking a breath. It’s cold out, but sweat is beading on his forehead and around his temples. You reach up and touch his cheek with the back of your hand, and he turns his head away. “Sorry. You’re very warm. Do you feel okay?”

He nods and takes another long drink, “there is the house I grew up in.”

“Oh.” They’re the best ones, and they’re always there for me makes much more sense now. It’s sentimental. The flowers here are special…special enough for a six-hour roundtrip drive.

The remainder of the trip takes you further into the woods. The road narrows, and the pine trees get closer and closer until, every mile or so, there’s a break in the woods, a clearing, and you can see the sky as it slowly darkens. You know when you arrive, because there’s one lonely hanok in the distance. Seungmin sighs again. He never turned the music back on, so you can hear every sound, and every breath. The snap of twigs under the tires, the chirp of bugs, and the chatter of a few magpies fills most of the silence.

“You grew up here?”

He doesn’t answer until you turn and look at him.

“Yeah, until I was nine. And then…” he can stop there. He doesn’t have to tell you every single thing. You’re just making conversation, not setting him down for therapy. “I got passed around to different family members.”

“Were they good to you?”

Somebody certainly wasn’t, and Seungmin knows you know that. He can feel you looking through him, gathering up his thoughts, and his feelings, and figuring things out on your own. “Yes, my grandparents did the best they could, and my aunts…they did, too.”

His answers just make more questions, considering his life now, but you’ll save them for another time.

The car comes to a slow stop. The house is dark and overgrown, but still somewhat looked after, you assume because of him. To your left is a large garden shed, not as well kept. Once, it was probably nice, but time was not kind to it. A little further down is a large greenhouse, also starting to show its age, but it’s iron and glass, and it’s standing strong without much help.

“Good”

“I wasn’t…uh,” he stops himself this time, and reconsiders. Instead of finishing his thought, he opens the door and steps out.

You do the same, and as soon as you stand and close the door, something hits you. It hits your chest, and works its way down to your stomach until you can’t stay on your feet. You kneel, trying not to fall onto the cold, damp ground, but your hands spread out in front of you as you lean forward and empty the contents of your stomach onto the grass.

“Fuck…what happened? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Maybe.”

“Do you get car sick?”

His hand on your shoulders takes you back two nights, and the memory makes you feel a little bit better. Opening your eyes and staring into the distance makes it worse again. “No.”

“You’re warm, too”

“Maybe we should do this tomorrow, if we’re staying the night." After the long drive, Seungmin might want to do it now, so why are even asking? But you also know he doesn't feel well. The fever heat between the two of you could bloom more flowers. "We should."

“We can," he says, secretly a little grateful, “I’ll find a room somewhere”

He pulls you to your feet, and it feels awful, but once you’re up and leaning against him, the dizziness is gone. “We’re not staying here?”

“No, we wouldn’t be very comfortable in there”

/ / /

The sick feeling passes eventually, and the room Seungmin finds at the last minute is not far. It’s small, and it’s comfortable. He’s working on the instant tteokbokki a few feet away, very focused, just like he was at the restaurant.

“It smells good”

“Feeling better? We have frozen bungeoppang, too. The hosts are very generous, we got lucky.”

“Lucky, even with one tiny bed?”

“Yeah, even with one tiny bed,” he laughs, and looks at the twin-size bed tucked away in the corner. He’s reminded of the one in your apartment that he never got to try, and he’s surprised his mind can even go there right now. The memory of his last trip home is mostly a blur, even though it wasn’t more than a day or two before you showed up. “Let’s eat, and get into bed.”

Still happy. So why are you suddenly feeling so empty? “I don’t wanna go to sleep yet.” You pick at and stir your food, and watch him devour his. “Hey…”

“Yes?”

“What happened earlier, at the restaurant?”

He was hoping you forgot about that. Seungmin isn’t typically violent unless he plans on seeing it to the end, so today was unusual. He keeps himself out of sight, and out of people’s memories, because he can’t afford to be noticed that much. He doesn’t regret what he did, though, and he has no problem admitting to himself that it felt good. “Before I got up, he started following you. He watched you walk by, and maybe you looked at him and he thought it was an invitation…or he’s just a piece of shit taking advantage of the opportunity.”

“I don’t think I looked at him”

“I caught up, just in time”

“And smashed his face into the wall”

“I didn’t know what I was going to do, but yeah, it seemed like the best choice at the time”

“It was effective”

“Still ruined our moment.” Seungmin’s eyes are tired, but he’s obviously nudging you into bed for more than just sleep. He wants to make up for whatever lust was building inside of him earlier, and you haven’t told him no a single time yet. Why would he expect you to tell him no tonight? But you’re feeling off—much more than just tired. It may have been the adrenaline rush earlier, combined with the very long car ride. It could just be the new setting, because the new setting reminds you a little bit of home, right down to the claustrophobic woods and this 300 square feet of living space.

“Maybe we should go to sleep.” You say, staring hard at your food as you eat. “It’s been a long day.”

/ / /

The twin bed is perfect, at least for you. Seungmin backed himself against the wall and kept his hands to himself after you crawled in beside him, and luckily, there was nothing but sleep for both of you almost immediately. A sharp pinging sound wakes you, and you open your eyes to him at the tiny kitchen counter. The sound you hear is sleet falling against the window, and the realization makes you shiver under the covers…but the smell of brewing coffee brings you right back.

The icy rainfall picks up as you force yourself into a sitting position, but staying up is still hard, regardless of his soft good morning, and his eyes peeking over his mug.

“Morning.” The headache has been there for a while, but you’re conscious now, and really feeling it. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven, we slept a lot”

You count to three and force your feet onto the cold floor, “doesn’t sound like good driving weather out there,” and make it to the other stool, where now you see an empty mug and a plate of warm bungeoppang. Without a word, you reach a hand up and set it on his forehead. “How did you sleep?”

Seungmin doesn’t shake it away, but he gives you a confused look, and he shrugs. “I slept.”

“Did you have any dreams? Nightmares?”

“The usual. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Because you had one, too. “You had a fever yesterday. It’s gone.”

“I think you took it from me, you look miserable”

“Do I?” Miserable is a strong word, but the headache, and the slightly off feeling is definitely close. Maybe you’re allergic to something up here. You make a mental note to take something for that, and for the headache, just in case.

“As soon as the rain stops, we’ll get what we came for, and then head back. Eat something.”

/ / /

The drive through the narrow forest road is even crunchier this time. Tiny icicles hang off tree branches, and no bugs chirp this time…no birds sing. It’s somehow darker this afternoon than it was yesterday at dusk, and the low mist hanging over the property makes you wish you would have just gotten this over with yesterday. Something strange is definitely living in these woods It’s beautiful, though, in its own lonely way. It’s still very alive here and it breathes easily through the cracks in the wood.

Seungmin is quiet, and you expect that. Whatever you’re feeling right now, he must be feeling it threefold. This is his home—or it was, at least, at a very important time in his life. The memory of why he had to leave is still lingering here.

Greenhouse is all he says as he steps out. You follow, and this time, you feel okay when your feet hit the ground. The headache is still there, but not so bad that you can’t fight through it, so you catch up with him and try not to lose your footing in the soft, muddy ground.

“Take your time, it’s uneven down here”

You watch each step as you take it, and weave around the stones and spots where the grass is drowning from the melted snow and ice. Some spots are still slick, so you wonder how anything could possibly be hanging on mid-December…especially what he came for. Even inside the greenhouse. You catch a shine of light from the corner of your eye and stop, even as he bolts ahead of you. Something in the ruins of the shed catches what little bit of sunlight makes it through the clouds.

"Come on..."

The boots you wore could have been better; could have been worse. Seungmin’s Redwings are splattered and caked with mud, old and new, because he knew what he was getting into up here. These are specifically the boots he wears here, you think. No hunting, no murder, no body disposal. Every job has its own equipment.

It’s even prettier up close, and inside, through the condensation rising up every perfect panel of glass, you see green and yellow. Purple, and blue. He opens the door to the anteroom, and the sweet smell of flowers fills you up. When he opens the main door, the warmth still trapped inside almost knocks you on your back.

“Does someone tend to this all year, or…”

“No.” He heads to a workspace in the corner and picks up a pair of gardening shears, a little rusty, but probably still very sharp. “Nobody comes here but me.”

“I like it, it’s nice”

“Yeah?”

You catch up to him and nod, “mhm, I don’t like it outside, but this is better.”

Seungmin leads you to the spot filled with purple flowers. Some of them fill big decorative pots, and some are elevated on homemade wooden shelves, but the largest ones are in the ground. It’s a little bit chaotic, but something about it feels organized at the same time. It’s everywhere, but it’s everywhere exactly where somebody wanted it.

“I see why you came all this way. It’s yours.”

He doesn’t answer. Seungmin lowers himself to the ground and kneels, and you watch as he does nothing for a very long time. The sounds of the greenhouse take over; the creak of the panels as the wind outside hits, and the cries of the bugs. Whatever insects managed to make a home for themselves here are very happy. And it isn't until now that you notice the sound of a single windchime. You find a spot to sit and wait, but you keep your eyes on him. Eventually, after more of his silence passes, it feels as if you’re intruding on something very personal, so you stand, quietly turn away, and focus your attention on a different spot; on different flowers.

What he’s doing over there is more cathartic and necessary than you can imagine.

Seungmin is always careful about how much he cuts and where he cuts from. Some blossoms seem brighter than others, and those are the ones he knows he can take. But before he does anything…

“how have you been?”

It’s exceptionally quiet, and his voice, so soft and light, carries in the small space. At first, you assume he’s speaking to you, because he’s speaking English. But he’s not. You can’t block out his words, so you walk as far from him as you can in an attempt to give him some privacy, but…he knows you’re here. He invited you inside knowing what he was going to do.

“Okay, I guess…sometimes it’s tough to tell from the inside”

Silence. He waits a few moments before speaking again…

“I am, I promise”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　　

“I know, I’m not alone this time, isn’t that strange? It feels so strange”

⋆ .   　　˚　　 　　*　　　

“Yes, it’s a good thing, I know”

　✦　˚ 　˖✶

“I’m trying really hard, I promise”

The silence is much longer this time. You think he might be finished, but he speaks one more time…

“Saranghaeyo…I love you, too”

You finally turn and look at him through a cluster of forget-me-nots, and he’s bowing so low you can hardly see him. The sound of the shears opening and closing finally comes, and you see him very carefully trimming what he needs. Two bundles. He takes both to the workspace, ties them with string, and wraps them gently in dark brown paper. The amount of care he takes is impressive, and he doesn’t rush through it. You take the opportunity to move closer to the blooms of heliotrope, but not too close. Just enough to admire them. They look like they just saw a warm, summer day, not the cold, icy morning you woke to. You almost forget it’s December as you stare at them.

“I’m ready, if you are.” His voice, still gentle, makes you jump.

“Yes, I’m ready”

“Oh, hold on.” Seungmin walks to the corner where you hid, looks around for something, and after a few minutes of him moving things around, digging, pulling, and digging again, he returns with dirt-covered hands and a small pot filled with the little blue flowers. “We’ll take these, too.”

He hands it over, and you hold it close as you start toward the cold again. The rain begins to fall as you carefully make your way back to the car, but it’s just a fine mist this time, no more ice. The bundles of heliotrope are placed in the backseat, but you hold tight to your flowers. Seungmin never implied they were yours, but you know they are. The forget-me-nots are for you.

The closer you get to Seoul, the more withdrawn you feel him becoming. There was some conversation this time, very minimal, and very light, but you said nothing of Uljin, or the greenhouse, or the conversation he had with the flowers. It slowly dwindled until it became a painful silence; no music, not even a contemplative sigh from him. You held your flowers and stared out of your window until the countryside slowly turned to small town, to city, to busy highways, and finally…home. Home?

“I’ll be gone for a few hours”

He tended to his flowers first. One bundle in the vase, the other tied and hung on the side of the window nearest the kitchen.

“Gone? You’re leaving?”

“Haven’t we seen enough of each other over the last two days?”

“Uhm…” Yeah, you guess so. “Sure.”

“I have to get rid of that body, and the carpet. It might take a while.”

The body. You completely forgot about two nights ago. How could you forget about watching him kill someone right in front of you? Luckily, Seungmin didn’t. He may have kept it at the front of his mind this entire time.

A quick change of clothes, and he’s gone without another word or glance in your direction.

The last two days and the night before was more than you expected from him—but enough? How could it possibly be enough? Whoever you were with today in the greenhouse, and in bed with yesterday morning; there’s so much of him you haven’t seen yet. You’ve barely met him. This was nowhere near enough.

So you shower and sort your things from your two shopping trips in an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But where to put them? Not in his drawer, because you need permission for that, and not in his neat, organized (full) closet. Eventually, you decide on folding and setting most of it on the chest near his bookshelves. The vase of flowers sit brand new and bright and fragrant exactly where the previous ones did, and now you have a chance to really look at them; you touch the delicate little petals and lean forward to take in more of the scent, and you wonder what exactly all of this means to him, because it’s something very special. Some of it you think you can figure out on your own, but you know there’s much more.

The flowers send your thoughts back to the music box. Your fingers itch to touch it again—to pick it up and turn the key, so you do. Seungmin isn’t here, and he might not be back for hours, and maybe he wouldn’t mind you looking at everything more closely. He didn’t seem to mind the first time. You pick it up and examine it in the low light. On top, there's a design burned and stained into the wood: a cloud-covered full moon shining down on a leaping rabbit. You turn the key three times, and hold it as it plays a sweet, sad melody that you don’t recognize. Inside you see the necklace, the one that looks almost exactly like yours, a silver bracelet, and a ring that could only be a wedding band. There’s a small piece of worn paper tucked into the corner, folded into the shape of a butterfly, and you leave that alone. You can see little bits of Hangul written on it, so clearly, it’s some sort of note. Even if you could read it…well, you could always use your phone and translate it—no, it’s none of your business.

The drawer could be your business, though. You’ve already seen it, and you can’t imagine it’s much different now than it was that night, but just thinking about it gets your heart racing.

You click his lamp on first, and look at everything sitting on the table. These are things you haven’t done yet, and there are so many little details about him still to learn. His glasses sit in their open case; a pair of thick black-rimmed ones, not the ones you’ve seen him in. His other ones, the ones that suited him so well, were round metal frames, and they’re not here. His silver Chanel necklace is here, and two prescription bottles that you never noticed before. KIM SEUNGMIN is written on the side of both—lorazepam (the little white pill he offered during your panic attack) and haloperidol. The haloperidol doesn’t look like it’s been touched, but the other is nearly empty. So, he has been diagnosed with something, and medicated for it, he just hasn’t followed through with his treatment. Maybe he’s tried, and it didn’t work—or it didn’t work the way he wanted it to. Finally, the drawer. It’s a little messier than you remember, but not bad. He probably hasn’t touched it since he killed two nights ago because the knife isn’t back in its spot. The sheath is there, and the cuffs, the gag. You carefully pick up one of the syringes and examine it, turn it so you can see the liquid inside move around like a tiny lava lamp. Still three of them. Further back, you feel something else. Something small. It’s an earring, just a tiny gold cuff, and it looks familiar. You reach and touch the top of your left ear, and you realize it’s yours. It must have fallen off while you slept, and he found it, and threw it in his drawer…but why didn’t he just return it?

Just as you put it back and turn off the lamp, you hear the click of the lock. You’d like to stay up and greet him, but if he’s still in the mood he was when he left, it might not be worth it. Instead, you climb under the covers and turn off the lamp on your side. He doesn’t come in right away. You can hear him go straight to the shower, and you stay awake and listen the whole twenty minutes he spends in there. Next, you hear him in the kitchen, and the thought makes your stomach growl. You haven’t eaten since midway through the ride home earlier, and that’s hardly worth mentioning. Maybe you should get up and see him, eat with him, if that’s what he’s doing. But you can’t move. You look at your phone: 9 pm. It’s not late at all, but the dark and the cold makes it feel so much later.

As soon as you smell coffee brewing, you decide to get up and check on him.

Seungmin is sitting in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, head down, face completely hidden in his hands. You can’t actually go out there and face him—no, you’re going to be a coward, because the possibility of his anger, no matter how small, is already making you tear up. But his little movements, the shake of his shoulders, make you think that’s what he’s already doing. You push the door up and slink back to bed and under the covers, and this time you somehow fall asleep.

/ / /

The cold air and smell of cigarette smoke wake you, hardly half an hour later, and as soon as you open your eyes, Seungmin slides the balcony door closed. You briefly shut them again when he walks up your side of the bed, and heads to his bookshelf. He looks at the flowers but does nothing else, and because he turned his lamp back on, you can see his face, and you can tell he was crying. He lifts his arm and wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, so you have to assume he just managed to stop while he smoked.

He stretches his neck, pulls his sweatshirt off, and heads for his side of the bed. You feel the blankets shift, and the movement as he sits and slides himself underneath. Then you hear the rattle of a pill bottle…the full one, but you don’t hear him remove the lid. He shakes it again, as if he’s looking at it and thinking, but places it back on the table, unopened. You’re relieved when he finally settles onto his pillow. You can relax again, maybe even turn and face him in your pretend sleep, but you don’t get a chance; Seungmin moves closer, and closer. You try not to jump when his hand slides hesitantly up your arm, over your shoulder, and then back down. He moves once more, until his chest can press against your back.

You’re positive he can feel your racing heart, your erratic breathing. His steady breath is traveling down your neck, under the collar of his tshirt you’re still wearing. Should you say something, let him know you’re awake and here with him? It’s possible the thought of you sleeping while he does this makes it easier, and you don’t want to ruin that, so you wait. His hand is on you again, but the touch is still hesitant and stuttery. Seungmin is thinking about his next move. He’s unsure.

After a few more moments, it slides between your arm and your waist, wraps around your stomach, and gently squeezes. He’s pulling you tight against him, finally, all of him. His forehead rests against the nape of your neck; his hips, his thighs, all curve and surround you. Skin on skin, warm under the blankets. You wait until you feel him relax, then set your hand over his…

“Oh, did I wake you?”

“No, you didn’t.” You feel him pull his hand back, but you hold tight and lace your fingers with his. “You didn’t.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long, I heard you coming in from the balcony.” Seungmin isn’t as relaxed now. You can feel his body tense, and his breathing change. “I felt you climb into bed.”

He pulls away again, and this time, he escapes your grasp. Seungmin pushes himself back, and when you turn to look, he’s already facing away, readjusting himself back into his spot.

“Seungmin?” Does he think you saw him crying? He must, and he’s right. Should you tell him he’s allowed to do that? “Can I come over there?” You whisper. “Please.”

“If you want to”

“I do,” you crawl to him and get back under the blankets, but instead of wrapping an arm around his waist, you grab his hip and pull until he’s flat on his back. “If…you want me to,” you really hope your smile will spread to him, but he just looks exhausted. His eyes are red and swollen, and his face is pale.

“Say it again,” he mumbles.

“Say what?"

Seungmin lets you push the hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes. “My name."

“Your name?”

He nods and closes his eyes, so your gaze drops to his lips—you haven’t kissed them in a long time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity. “Seungmin.”

“Mm, I like the way it sounds when you say it”

“Have I been saying it okay? Is my accent messing it up?”

“No…it’s perfect”

You take a chance while his eyes are still closed, first at the corner of mouth, and then a little closer. He doesn’t move, so you press your lips firmly against his. He returns it, and his breath deepens. You think he might stop at any moment, so you enjoy it—the way he tastes, the coffee and the leftover minty sweetness of his cigarette. He stays, though. He touches you. Seungmin’s hand moves to your waist and pulls you closer, and you think, maybe the night will be okay now…but it doesn’t last very long. It’s gone, and he turns his head until you stop kissing. Your lips land on his neck, and they stay there.

“Seungmin” you say again, whispering it slowly and carefully.

“I haven't been feeling very good”

“You haven't? What is it?”

He sniffles, and moves his legs against yours under the blankets. Seungmin is warm, but not fever-warm, and something tells you he doesn’t mean physically. Maybe he’ll open up this door, though. Telling you he isn’t feeling well is already a lock unlocked.

But he doesn’t say another word. What he does do is let you touch—he relaxes again as your palm slides over his chest, down his stomach. You press your lips to his collarbone and make a path across his shoulder. “Tell me what’s hurting.”

“Everything”

“Everything?”

“Almost everything”

"Your body?"

He slowly shakes his head.

"Something up here?"

Seungmin's eyes dart toward you as your fingers run through his hair. He thinks for a long moment before answering. "A little."

"Alright, one more...here?"

His hand closes over yours on his chest, but he doesn't give you a yes or no answer. If it's a yes, which you suspect it is, he's probably not going to give you anything else. You leave it at that.

“Tell me what feels okay, maybe it’ll help a little,” you follow the path you made, returning to his collarbone, and working your way up his neck. This time he’s more receptive to it, and his cheek turns to press against yours. “What feels good?”

Seungmin sets his hand on the small of your back and brings you closer. “Good?”

“Mhm…and how can I make it even better? Let me make you feel good.”

“Bite”

“Bite?”

“Right there, please”

You don’t bite yet, but you kiss him again, lick, and graze your teeth across his skin. “Right here?”

The sound he makes is small, and desperate, like he’s afraid you might not do it. “Please.”

Very cautiously, you suck the skin again, and bite until he makes another sound. It feels like a lot of pressure, but it’s not enough for him. You try again.

“Yeah…like that,” he moans, and squirms beneath you, “don’t be shy.”

The spot you sunk your teeth into starts to turn red, and the marks are there…but you didn’t break the skin. You kiss it, and then kiss a new spot just below it and nibble. When he squirms again, you bite down hard, and this time he sounds satisfied. He grabs your hand and guides it under his waistband, and you bite again when your fingers move over his head, down the length of his cock. You stroke him, and watch him watch you work.

“Don’t stop,” he brings you down to his chest, and when your tongue finds his nipple, “harder please”…you bite, and his hips push into your touch. “Fuck.”

You don’t hold back this time, and you feel the skin break between your teeth. The coppery taste of blood hits your tongue when you lick the spot, and Seungmin makes a sound like he’s never made for you before, and he moans your name…

“Seungmin”

“Mmm…yeah?” He sighs and grips your arm as you stroke, “yeah?” and he smiles as his head hits the pillow. Blood starts to bead from the mark on his chest, and it slowly drips down toward his stomach.

You watch it, then look at him, and the urge to clean it off is too strong to ignore. This is new for you. Is it new for him? Before you get the chance to try, he sits up. “Oh, you gonna bite me?”

Seungmin smiles, shakes his head, “no,” and gets himself out of his shorts, “no, sit back…” he touches you, and slides his hands up your outer thighs, but instead of undressing, they come back down, caressing, squeezing, as if he’s taking a moment to admire you. It gives you a knot in your stomach, the thought of it, and the look on his face. The next time they move up, he grabs your underwear and pulls.

The knot grows; the nervous feeling in your stomach won’t go away, and you don’t know why, because you’ve been here already. You’ve been with him, no panic attack. Again, he touches—very softly runs his fingertips over the top of your thigh and to your knee.

“Give me your arms, hold onto me.” He throws more pillows behind you, and rearranges them while he holds you against him. It feels so sweet and so personal, how he’s tending to the spot where he wants you. “Comfortable?”

“Oh…yeah,” you grip the back of his neck, and the other hand digs into his side. “This is nice.”

“Mm, your nails are sharp”

“Are they? Sorry,” you adjust your hold on him, but he shakes his head as you do.

“No…do your worst. Or your best, I guess.”

The thin line of blood running down his chest is beginning to dry, and the marks you made all over him are darkening. He wants more, though, and you can do that. You gently rake your fingers up his back…just enough to tickle, and then back down with a little more pressure. At the same time, his fingers tease you, ghosting up and down so perfectly and carefully.

You spread your legs in anticipation of more. “Hey,” you whisper. His eyes are wide open, but focused elsewhere, just away from you. He’s thinking hard, or spacing out…you can’t tell. “Look at me.”

A little smile tugs at his lips when he looks up, “hm?” And his eyes are big and shining inches from yours, ready to swallow you up. He pushes his hair away from his forehead and comes in for a kiss, and you’re not prepared. At all. It’s just like the elevator kiss—so deep and eager like he can’t get close enough. You fall back on your spot and pull him with you, and he keeps going, slips his tongue in, and moans softly into your mouth. You scratch across his back, not enough to mark, and he does it again.

Each time, you give him more. A little more pressure, a little slower.

He slides in, and with each push, hits deeper and stretches more. His lips keep kissing, though, like he’s trying to distract from the pain he might be causing as he pushes every inch into you. But with every twinge of pain, you dig deeper, pull so slowly, and feel your nails get close to breaking skin.

When you open your eyes to check, his upper back is so much more red and angry than you anticipated.

“Don’t stop,” he whines as he finally pulls away from the kiss.

“It looks so sore…Seungmin, I dunno if I can…” from here you see old scratches mixed in with the new ones, much older, scarred over—they look like more than scratches. How did you never notice them before? You’ve never seen him like this, in this light.

“You can,” he pants, “please.”

The skin is hot when you touch it, and you wince just thinking about how it must feel, but Seungmin doesn’t make a sound when you graze over it. He does, however, let you know that he likes it when you push your nails in again. One more swipe and you see blood.

You stop, and he doesn’t ask you to do it again—instead, he pushes in fully and stays there, kisses and sucks at your neck, nibbles a little, but nothing like what you did to him.

“Good,” he sighs and pushes your thighs upward, and he starts to move in and out, slow at first, but he can’t help himself. His breath catches as he speeds up, and loses himself in the moment, but still, he stays in your neck, moaning against your skin, and breathing down your back…into your ear where he whispers a fuck…fuck, as if he could come any second.

“Slow,” you knead your fingers into his hip, hold him off a little bit, “slow down, relax.”

Seungmin listens and does his best, but it feels too good.

“We have all night...all night”

But this is what he needs. He wants it now. This will make him feel better. All of this. The sting of his back, the gentle throb from each little bite mark, you squeezing so tight around him.

You place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere…Seungmin?” Then move it to the nape of his neck, being careful not to touch the scratches.

This time, he slows much more, almost stops. You worry for a moment and wonder if the words didn’t fall quite right on his ears, but you meant want you said—you’re not leaving.

“I do want you…all night,” Seungmin smiles, and he lets out a laugh tinged with nerves, as if he’s embarrassed about admitting exactly what he wants, or what he needs.

“Good. Did this…” you touch the spot on his chest, and smear the almost dried blood. Then you touch another. “Did this help?”

“A little”

“Sit up,” you hook your arm around his neck as he rises, and now you can slide onto his lap. “Hold onto me.”

Seungmin holds you where you are, hands on your hips, eyes on the space between you. You lift yourself, and you don’t have to tell him what to do—you’re more than ready for him again, and his cock slides in smoothly as you come down.

“Oh, that’s good.” Seungmin is smiling again, and his satisfied laugh is much less anxious. He grabs the back of your shirt and pulls so he can see everything as you move up and down on him…”neomu johda” he mumbles under his breath, “nice and slow,” lifts your shirt over your head, and both arms wrap around you.

“Much better, yeah?”

His presses his cheek against your chest, and you can feel his nod.

“I don’t mind working for it”

Seungmin laughs again, and turns his face to kiss wherever he can get to; your shoulders, your throat, down your chest to the soft skin of your breast. He’s surprisingly gentle when he gets there, and even more so when he runs his tongue around your nipple. He stares up at you, eyes wide and shining, as if he’s waiting for something…your reaction, your approval. It’s not a side of him you’ve seen—you didn’t think he even had a side like this.

You run the pad of your thumb just under his eye, where a faint scar shines in the light, and he smiles again. His face disappears against you, so all you see is the top of his peachy-colored head. Seungmin squeezes you close before letting go, and he falls back to rest on his palms.

“Cute”

His eyes open even wider, “what?” And he very slowly lowers himself as you push him flat on his back. “Me?”

“Maybe”

“Maybe?”

“You know what would be really cute?” You ask.

“What’s that?”

“You…coming for me”

Seungmin smirks when you laugh, and slowly rolls his hips, “so I can come now?” Your laugh turns to a moan. He does it again, and takes your hands in his. “How’s that feel?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t stop”

He doesn’t. Seungmin rolls his hips, sliding in and out so smoothly, but the stretch, the pain—this pain feels so good, just like his pain, your bites and your scratches. And the pressure as you finally get all of him in, when your body finally slams into his hips, Seungmin moves faster and faster, pulling you down close enough to kiss as he fucks you. He bites softly at your lip, slides his tongue against yours. The kiss throws you over the edge, and your orgasm hits so fast, and so hard, you scream right down his throat. His cum runs warm out of you as he slows, and stops, but you keep kissing, and Seungmin returns it.

“Okay,” you don’t want to, but you pull away to breathe, and Seungmin pulls you back for one more, “okay.” You lay down on him and try to catch your breath, listen as he catches his, and close your eyes to the feel of his chest rising and falling. One hand slides across your shoulders, and the other sets at his side, fingers fidgeting and picking at the blanket, and everything feels good, and normal.

The rumble in his chest as he groans and sighs brings you back a little, but you’re not ready to be back quite yet. It’s too nice, laying here on his chest, listening to the wild beat of his heart. But you give in, and look up at him—Seungmin is just as relaxed, maybe more. You slowly lift yourself off of him, and pull at the blankets, but you’re the wrong way around, and covering up isn’t easy.

“Seungmin?”

His eyes open slowly, and then immediately shut again.

“Turn over, so I can look at your back.” He listens, but this time, he winces in pain when the skin moves and stretches. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Before you get up, you have to give your legs a stretch, and before you can walk, you stand for a moment and adjust. As soon as your shirt is back over your head, you carefully head to the bathroom, trying not to trip in the dark. The hand towels are in the very last drawer you check, but the water comes out ice cold, just like you need it.

You lost yourself with him. Pushing him on his back was stupid, and a few of the scratches broke open even more.

“How does it feel?” You ask, and very slowly drape the cold towel across his shoulders. He winches again, but it’s quickly followed by a sigh of relief. “It hurts now that the moment is over, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it looks. I promise.”

Even if you do believe him, you can still see the pink of his blood coming through the opposite side of the thin towel. It spreads out and connects and starts to look like angel wings…butterfly wings. You think of the old note in his music box.

“Are there lots of butterflies in the greenhouse in spring?”

“Hm?” Seungmin lifts his head and tries to look at you, but you’re too far back. “Butterflies?”

“Yeah,” maybe you shouldn’t be mentioning the greenhouse right now, or bringing the trip back to his mind, but…he was happy for it. “The heliotrope and the asters, butterflies love them.”

“Yeah, you’re right…that’s why—“ he stops himself and lays his head back down on the bed, “that’s why they’re in there. Why do you ask?”

“Uhm, no reason…it just came to mind”

“We’ll see in a few months, I guess”

In a few months. In the future. That’s a nice thought. Will you both still be here? You look down at him and wonder as you gently lift the towel to inspect. “Do you have any antibiotic ointment?”

“You don’t have to do all that”

“Bathroom?”

Seungmin nods.

/ / /

He stares at you from his spot on the bed, right side up this time. Seungmin is on his stomach still, with one pillow fluffed up under his head and chest. You can’t tell for sure, but he might be a little annoyed at you for covering him in cream and making him stay still.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks in a small voice. “Are you tired?”

“No, I’m not anymore…but you look tired”

“I’m always tired,” he turns away and pushes his face into the pillow, “or I always look tired.”

“No, you don’t. Just very pensive, and sad, and handsome.”

“Handsome? You said I was cute.” His face is still mostly hidden, but you can see one eye peeking at you.

“Yeah, you’re cute when you think really hard, or when you’re worried”

“So, all the time?”

“All the time”

The quiet that falls over the room is nice—it’s not awkward, or filled with questions. There’s no tension. Seungmin just lies there, eyes closed, comfortable and content, and he doesn’t move when you lay down next to him. You could fall asleep if you allowed yourself, but you could also lay here and look at him for a little while longer. All night. You pull the blankets higher, grab a second pillow, and something familiar catches your eye. The little yellow puppy rolls and falls between the bed frame and the wall, but you catch him just before he disappears. “Do you walk around on your own?” His big black eyes stare silently, and they remind you of someone.

“Do I look sad all the time?”

There they are…they open so wide, and he seems to focus on a spot somewhere behind you—somewhere in the dark where the light doesn’t reach.

“No, you don’t look sad right now”

Seungmin reaches out and takes his friend by the paw, squeezes it. Now he looks sad, as if something suddenly started weighing on his mind. You glance to the table where his pills sit, and wonder, stupidly, if you should ask about them—ask very gently if he’s given them a chance. Not tonight, though. “Does he have a name?”

“Hm? Oh…him, yeah he does. His name is Daengmo.” Seungmin smiles as he says it, but it matches the rest of him; sad. “Daengmo,” he whispers.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Yes, daengdaengie is for puppy, mo is…uhm,” he stops and thinks. Or hesitates. “Mo, for a nickname I had when I was little.”

“Mo? Your nickname was Mo?”

“Mo, or Seungmo. My mom called me that when I didn’t listen…when I misbehaved.”

“Maybe I should be calling you Mo”

The sad look fades a little, “because I’m bad?” Seungmin lifts himself up on his elbows and turns on his side.

“You are, objectively, sometimes. But…” Seungmin does bad things, and you’ve witnessed some of it. He’s lied, and he’s manipulated. He might still be lying, for all you know. But he’s also told you truths. You’re choosing to trust him right now, just like you’ve been since he brought you home, because he has shown you a surprising amount of kindness even though it was clearly difficult for him. “No, I don’t think you’re bad," ...because you think you might be in love with him.

“I’m glad you think that. I am, though. I’m a nightmare."

[teacupcollector]

The Art of Misdirection - Part 3 (141 x Gen Z Reader)

Main Masterlist Modern Warfare II Masterlist A/N: Hello everyone I know it has been a while and I haven't updated is so many years, I think i am back, but I don't know where to go with this story anymore. I wanted to post because I had this in my drafts. I appreciate all the support. i am going to be doing a bit of a blog update because it has been the same for a while. Feel free to request anything COD related. it doesn't have to be from my promt list. I am trying to ease my way into writing again. Have a good day! Summary: Joining the 141 was a wild roller-coaster. Everyone had been apprehensive to you joining due to your age, but you are here to prove them wrong. Now as of this mission and maybe your last they are going to figure out what your nickname means.  

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Soap exclaimed as he stormed toward Ghost.

"Johnny we need to be quiet an..." "Fuck being quiet! What happened to us being a team!" He says as he gets face-to-face with him.

He can feels the slight warm breaths of Ghost through his balaclava. He can feel the intense stare as he looks up at him. He is sure Ghost could feel the anger rolling off of him. He hopes that Ghost feels the slightest bit intimidated but he knows that isn't the case.

"We are a te-" Soap makes sure to lean up as far as he can. Trying his best to puff out his chest and make himself bigger.

"No apparently we're not because we just left her behind! What happened to the Ghost that would stick his neck out for his squad member!" Soap exclaims as his anger seems to rise.

"He is still there Mactavish! I needed to get you both out of there. You were injured and I had no idea what Gaz's condition was! I had to assume she was dead in an effort to save the rest of you!" Ghost says as his voice begins to rise in turn.

"You hated her the moment she stepped foot on base... You didn't bother to confirm if she was alive! She is one of us!" Soap says shoving Ghost which causes Ghost to Step back a step.

"Was this some opportunity to get her off your back?! You were probably glad she was dead!" "You need to hush it John-" Ghost bellows only to be cut off by Soap once again.

"Just because she is younger than us doesn't mean she isn't capable! Was she just going to be another name in your already red ledger? Do you only see her as collateral damage?!"

Ghost stays silent. Not because Soap is right, but because he is unable to come up with an answer. Technically yes she was. He didn't want it to be that way, but she dug her grave and now she had to lie in it, and that is exactly what he said.

"She dug the grave for herself and she had to lie in it! It was sacrifice the few to save the lives of the many! You need to understand that I made a logical choice! You need to separate your emotions from situations like this or it will get you killed!" Ghost sees Soap change stance.

He knew that Soap was going to punch him in the face the moment he stepped outside the tent. He knew he deserved it, but just because he deserved it doesn't mean he was going to let it happen. Before any action could take place Gaz steps out of the tent.

"What the fuck are you both doing out here!" Both Ghost and Soap turn to Gaz.

"It doesn't fucking matter. Medical evac is seven klicks out. We need to get a move on before you alert anyone else of our position..." He grumbles as he walks back inside the tent.

Soap grunts before going around the fire and packing up things that are needed. Ghost walks toward the tent and begins to pack up everything that is inside. Gaz is walking out with the radio and some medical supplies.

Ghost looks over to you laying nearly lifelessly on the cot. If it weren't for the rise and fall of your chest he would have been convinced. He begins taking things off the foldable tables and folding them up before exiting the tent. He does this for the second table as well. When he comes in a third time he sees Soap sitting on the ground and running his fingers through your hair.

"We're going to move you alright Lass? We need to finish packing up and then we will get you out of here." He says softly.

Soaps hand goes from your hair to your cheek as the back of his hand caresses the side of your face. He then turns his hand so his thumb can wipe away the wet residue of your tears and blood. Soap then turns his head to Ghost and glares. He stands up and goes to pick you up when Ghost stops him.

"You aren't fit to pick her up Sargent. Go wait in the jeep." Ghost says.

Soap looked like he was about to argue but he knew Ghost was right. It would only injure his leg more and he would jostle her around to much in an effort to avoid causing further injury to it. Soap walked out and Ghost sighed.

"Gotta stay with us Corporal. I need you to be alive so I can rip you a new one for being so fucking stupid." He grunts as he bends down and collects you in his arms.

He walks out of the tent to the last standing vehicle and opens up the back seat. He lays you down in it and you groan at the change of body placement. Soap then hops in the back seat as well using his right thigh as a pillow to support your head. Ghost looks between the both of you as he sees Soap run his hands through your hair.

"You'll be alright m'eudail (My dear)... We will get you better." Soap looks up at Ghost and sighs.

Ghost takes that as a sign and gently shuts the door and sighs. Ghost swiftly goes over the layout of the camp to see if there is anything else needed to be packed, but Gaz seemed to have already packed everything and put out the fire. Ghost goes to the passenger side and gets in which is soon followed by Gaz in the drivers seat.

"Drive easy Gaz... Please." Ghost hears from behind him.

Gaz nods into the rear view before he stops driving. "Keep the lights off until we are a Klick out or so got that Gaz?"

Gaz nods but stays silent as he goes a snail pace. Once they are out a bit the head lights go up and he begins to drive a bit faster. Soap has been whispering soothing words to you this entire time. Every whimper you make when there is a particular harsh bump he is there to comfort you. Ghost can only listen as he keeps his eyes out on the horizon. He feels his heart pinch in his chest. He allowed you to get hurt. He left you behind. He needs to make sure you are okay, but he knows that Soap can handle it. He needs to get out of his head and focus on the task at hand and keep an eye out for potential threats as well as the helicopter that will be evacuating them. Ghost doesn't want to be harsh, but he is going to talk to Price about your behavior. You were down right suicidal today and he will not have that threaten his squad.

"Why do you call her Misdi?" Ghost asks in a low tone.

"It's uh... it's short for Misdirection. When she was in Iraq under American command she was the best at distracting the enemy from the main task at hand..." Gaz says in an equally low tone.

"However she had her own squad for that." Ghosts eyes widen.

"She is only a Corporal how is that possible?" Ghost says keeping his tone level.

"Well she was on the promotion board, but that was cut short for some reason and she was nominated to be on this task force." Gaz murmurs.

"Must've gotten in some trouble with the bullshit she pulled today. I wouldn't be surprised..." Ghost growls.

That is when there is a whimper from the back seat which was louder then the others. Your eyes are filled with tears as you adjust to what they assume is consciousness.

"I'm here lass, they bein' to loud huh?" "Bear..." you mumble. "Hurts..."

"I know lass... I'm here you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want." Soap says as he slips his hand in yours and you squeeze.

"Scared Bear..." you whimper.

"I know, but we are here and we are heading home." Soap says using his other hand to run through your hair and gasps slightly.

"What is it Soap?" Gaz asks.

"Her head started bleeding again. 'Ts bleedin' through the bandage..." Soaps voice cracks.

"She'll be fine, keep pressure on it." Ghost says as he taps on Gazs shoulder to get him to speed up. Gaz nods before speeding up.

"I got to put pressure on yer head alright?" Soap says as he presses down on your wound.

You let out a cry and he tries his best to comfort you. "I know, I know. You got this alright?" Soap says as he continues to murmur to you. ---

You weren't unconscious that entire time. You were up ever since he put you in the car. You hate that Ghost thought so little of you. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper. You just hope they assume it was out of pain. Then again it is pain. Pain of the heart because they have no idea what you went through. Only Laswell and Price know and you want to keep it that way. You wish you could have said a snarky comment, but your eyes fell closed. Only to open at the rendezvous point. You were lifted onto a stretcher and into the helicopter. You look up to see Soap, Gaz, and Ghost in the seats and strapped down and that is when you realize your head is strapped to the stretcher and unable to move.

Your chest begins to heave up and down as your eyes strain to look either side of you.

"Let me out... Let me out!" You cry out and the three snap their head down to you.

You begin to thrash and strain in an effort to get out. Your vision starts to blur with tears as you feel the other restraints binding you. You suddenly see a head pop into your vision.

"Get away from me!" You shout.

"Ma'am if you don't calm down we are going to have to sedate you." The person above you says, but this only causes you to panic further.

"Love we're here." You hear Gaz say and suddenly you feel a hand enter your own and you immediately dig your nails into him.

"It's just me love. It's big G. Remember when you gave me that nickname? It's really stupid innit?" Gaz says with a laugh.

You go to nod but the restraint on your head is limiting the movement. You feel the moment of hyperventilation beginning to take over once again, but Gaz squeezes your hand, grounding you. "Try and sleep, okay? We'll be out of here in no time." He says. You take in a deep breath before closing your eyes and letting the darkness encompass you.

[five-flavor-soup]

This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.

In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 

But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 

That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 

Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:

Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.

(Added emphasis for my point)

Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 

By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.

And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 

In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:

The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.

And: 

I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.

I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.

Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 

There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.

[perciverthoughts]

The thing about Percy is, he’s really not half as perfect as he pretends to be.

“Fuck,” Penny says, wrenching open the window because she’s also not as perfect as she pretends to be, “give me that, will you?”

She snatches the freshly lit cigarette out of his hand before he can even take a puff, sucking on it desperately.

“Oi,” he protests, and she rolls her eyes but hands it back to him as she blows the lungful of smoke out the open window.

He places it between his lips, ignoring the slight oily taste from Penny’s lipgloss on it, just as desperate for the nicotine as she is. 

They really shouldn’t be doing this, and there will be hell to pay if Flitwick or the heads catch them- they’re prefects after all, and he had to give Danny Maslow detention just last week for doing the very same thing- but he also doesn’t care. He needs this. Merlin, nicotine is half the reason he gets through rounds some days without committing murder or having a breakdown, and after the meeting they just had he feels close to both.

Besides, Penny’s muggle cigarettes are so much smoother than any wizarding smoking device he’s ever tried.

“Fuck,” Penny repeats, because she swears like a goddamn sailor anytime she isn’t in front of the professors or busy being a prefect, “that was brutal.”

“Yeah.” Percy agrees, because holy shit it was.

She makes a grab for the cig and he dances out of reach, knowing what most people don’t: that underneath her carefully arranged curls and polished facade Penelope Clearwater is an absolute menace. 

“Get your own!”

“Who gave you that in the first place, hm?” Penny demands acerbically, but takes out her own pack all the same, along with a muggle lighter because she never quite got used to using a fire charm. “Fucking ingrate.”

“I resent that.” Percy informs her loftily.

“You should.”

He holds his nose up a second longer before he relaxes into a grin, the kind only a few people can draw out of him.

“Seriously though,” She returns to the matter at hand, done feigning her annoyance, “If I have to sit through another fucking meeting listening to Lucretia Hammond prattle on about ‘team unity’ and ‘presenting a united front’ I’m gonna be unified from azkaban when I kill her.”

Lucretia Hammond was the manically bubbly head girl, a seventh year ravenclaw whose caffeine intake could rival that of a healer working double shifts. With the rumours of the chamber of secrets floating around and the fact that half the school seemed ready to duel at a moments notice, she, along with her head boy sidekick Brodie Sangton, felt the need to remind the prefects to be good role models. Apparently, that meant doing an hour and half of team building exercises and messing up the rounds schedules so no one could patrol with their friends. 

“Maybe that was her actual plan all along,” Percy muses, “unite us all in our hatred for her.”

If that was actually the motivation behind it, even Percy has to admit it was kind of brilliant. He’s pretty sure if he asked anyone right now who’d sat through that bloody seminar to help him murder Lucretia and get away with it, they’d accept- and that was saying something considering Zafrina Rosier hadn’t even pretended that dropping him during trust falls was an accident.

“I wish I could believe that,” Penny sighs, “but she’s really not that smart.”

“Penelope Clearwater,” he gasps mockingly, “how could you say something so cruel? After what we just learned about kindness and unity going hand in hand-”

He jumps out of the way before she can smack him, cackling. 

“Bastard,” she grins, “you know I’m right.”

She is, is the problem. Lucretia Hammond could not be less suited to her job if she tried, and most days Percy is convinced she is trying. He has yet to figure out why Dumbledore appointed the Head Girl he did, because he’s sure there must have been a reason. There has to be, because no one in their right mind would put Lucretia Hammond in charge of anything unless they knew something about her most people don’t.

“Unfortunately, yes. Maybe if we hold a vote of no confidence we could impeach her.”

“This early in the term?” Penny blows a smoke ring, hopping up on the windowsill and kicking her legs like a child, “As first year prefects? McGonagall would say we haven’t given her a chance, and we’d be the ones with targets on our backs. Besides, something tells me Lucretia will hang herself soon enough without us needing to do anything.”

She blows another smoke ring, flicking her wand until the grey cloud twists into the shape of a jellyfish.

“Y’know, the whole point of opening the window was so that the whole room wouldn’t smell like smoke.”

Penny rolls her eyes. 

“Unlike you, I know how to do a refreshment charm so I don’t really need to worry about that.”

“Damn. Low blow.”

“Boo hoo, get over it.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, stubbing out his cigarette and vanishing it, “I gotta go, I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling snogging your boyfriend in the library now?”

Percy blushes. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No comeback for the snogging thing, huh?”

“Oliver,” he grits, “is-”

“-the love of your poor gay life, yes, we’re aware.”

“Oliver,” he repeats, purposely ignoring his best friend’s untrue insinuations, “is just a friend.”

“Right, of course,” Penny schools her face into something almost neutral, “just a friend.”

“Precisely.”

“...a friend you really want to snog senseless though. Like, you’re aware that you very much want to do that, right?”

“Oh fuck off!” 

He starts towards the door and Penny cackles.

“You didn’t deny it!” She calls after his retreating back, and he offers her a two finger salute before he steps into the hallway, smoothing his robes and straightening his hair.

After all, he needs to look his best for his study session with Oliver, because he isn’t as perfect as he pretends he is and because Penny is right.

He really does want to snog Oliver Wood senseless. 

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"I think youre like, super duper cool-- a morning with Kai”

✰---Summery: a snippet in time for the two of you, though something like this happens too often to count. A soft and fluffy but fortifying morning with him to remember that all started with him fiddling with the straps and hems of your shirt… speaking of night clothes… there might be a surprise for him waiting underneath

✰---A/N: um so this was supposed to have been out like an eternity ago but life has really been killing me lately so I apologize. Writing is good though and I really love it. I say this every time I post a fic but I’m not sure how good this is :( I originally wanted kai to eat out the reader in this fix but alas, I did not get to it

✰---Warngingz/info: kissing, morning sex, unestablished relationship, like you can take it however you want in this, fingering, hanjob, reacher is gn! other than having a vagina, reader kisses Kai’s freckles/moles, Kai is pussy drunk? idk maybe he is in this, kai asks you to put just the tip in, kai loves the readers tummy thats pretty evident in this fic, spelling mistakes I'll get to them eventually.... think thats it but (it just autocorrected me to 'nut'....) I think thats it! please feel free to let me know if there's anything else!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

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THIS IS SMUT! PLEASE HAVE AN AGE INDICATOR IN YOUR BLOG SAYING YOU ARE NOT A MINOR IF YOU ARENT OR ELSE I WILL BE BLOCKING YOU!!!!

The sun hits the front of your lidded eyes, burning them, but wanting, and now apparently waking you up at the same time. Kai shifts behind you, little puffs of breathing out tickling your neck. You finally open your eyes to look where at the state of the man currently latched onto your back. You feel him fiddling with the straps of your tank top absentmindedly, fingers ever so often brushing against your newly exposed skin.

Your desire to nod back off quickly fades when he takes a long breath-- something he always does when he wakes. Now, too excited to ask him in a moment if he's had any dreams, your sleepiness fades into just being calm with him. He circles his arms around your tummy, the pads of his soft and nearly hot with blush and toasty from just returned to the land of the living. it was weird... but something he always took notice of; the way all of his best sleeps were always with you. it wasn't like he couldn't sleep on his own, but when he did he woke up feeling as tired as he was when he laid down, or like they just didnt hit the same way as when he was with you

like he was now, with one of his arms falling asleep with you laying on top of it. but really, he wouldn't want it any other way. You put your hands over his, grasping them tightly almost in an awkward handshake. "So no good morning? no hi, how are you? just trying to brake my hand I see." His voice is groggy, raspy, coming from the back of his throat. You chuckle, and he feels like the sleep instantly is gone from his eyes.

"I was obviously helping you!" You protest, "I was giving feeling back into your arms."

"Why both of my arms then, huh?" his voice lowers, getting suspicious. "I have to show love to each of them." "By breaking them...?" You can feel his eyebrow raise. "mmhm." you say definitely. "Oh, very nice of you then." he snickers

He kneads your tummy gently. the soft skin on his making the both of you break a smile. Only for a moment though, until you feel coolness envelope you instead of warmth as before. Cause now he's getting up, blanket wrapped around his entire body and running to the other side of the bed. he flops down next to you, facing you and making the blanket billow around him like a cape. Now youre both engulfed in it. light from the curtains casting a glow on each of your faces through the blanket. "What? You were pushing me off the bed." You inch closer to him. "Oh, so it was that then, not you wanting to cuddle with me?" he nuzzles his face not your neck, hands already traveling to their rightful place where your hips and waist/ tummy meet. big hands warm you as he speaks into your neck: "mmhm, yeah that, and.... " he draws out the article, though you know what and was going to say and he does "I wanted to see you."

"reasonable." you smile.

"Really?" his smirk is coming through his lips, teeth, and mouth and his voice drips with it. And right now, youre not sure how to deal with it as youre drawn closer and closer to him like a magnetic pull is the only thing that's controlling you. Once youre close enough to feel each others rapid heart beats and close enough where if you just inched in... just a little bit, your lips would be on his neck and you could feel his pulse. you finally speak, "yeah, of course you did. I don't know if youve noticed but im like, pretty amazing." his tongue darts out to lick his lips and smiles. he starts rubbing at your skin again. well, more like brushing it, making you suppress some sort of laugh because its starting to tickle but still.

"Ive noticed, though!" he protests, face still in your neck, voice gentle because of your proximity. "am I that predictable?" you shake your head yes. (he does this almost every morning that you two wake up like this.)

"Im not accusing you--" "yeah yeah, I know but" he straightens his back, looking at you in the eyes now. "what if I happen to think that youre like... super duper cool?" a wide smile creeps onto his face, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks swell as he says the last few words. he draws in a short breath and continues: "and nice, and beautiful, and wonderful. and a whole lotta other things I know anyone who spends a bunch of time with you and who you know..." he cocks his head from side to side, thinking about how he was going to word what he wanted to convey. "...know about you, but I don't really know how to express right now."

You laugh with him. something similar to thing happens a lot between the two of you-- him wanting, no, needing to tell you how he knows how amazing you are, but either not being able to express himself or tripping over his own words. you barely ever paid any mind to it, though. and not in a "its the thought that counts" type of way, either. you might've not fully understood what he was trying to say, but the way he gazed into your eyes, brightness filling them, then looks away, then back at you, rose pigment in his face now.... god, did that tell you all you needed to know.

"hm," you hum, "I think youre supper duper cool too." he raises his head to place a quick peck on your lips. you would've kissed him back if he'd just give you a second. A moment of silence later and it leads to him pressing, almost poking his nose against your previously cold but now warm with the heat crawling into your face and he doubles down on his statement. "Im serious though--" you chuckle even though you can hear the weight in his tone. "So am I." and youre just as serious as him. you mouth a thank you nonetheless. "I-I'm serious though, I don't think anyone in their right mind could miss how amazing you are."

Two things, about this interaction: one,) you can joke about it all you want but, he thinks, you really are perfect. and two) no matter what he says about it, you really do think its cute how he's stumbling over his words. "Glad we're on the same page."

All the while you two have been talking, his hands are moving mere fractions of an inch up and down, up and down, down and-- now hes rubbing almost tickling circles right next to your navel. each stroke of your torso getting longer and longer. you fiddle with the waistband of his boxers until he goes far down enough to notice youre not wearing any underwear. the schooled look on his face makes you laugh as you both emerge from the little makeshift blanket fort you two have stretched over the beautiful expanse of his shoulders.

"oh, im sorry." he bites the inside of his cheek nervously and gulps, raises his hands off you. "what'r you sorry for? I thought you wanted to..." you move his hand back to where it was on the top of your ass. "touch me here?" "well I did-- I do." he corrects himself, but he keeps on rambling. "I just wasn't expecting-- and I dunno if you wanted to since-- oh, what?" He suddenly breaks a smile, his nervousness fading away when he sees you silently chuckling at him. "thisis making your brain short circuit is see. hm, I should let you know when im sleeping without them more often, don't you think?" his eyes go wide again. "you mean you do this frequently and I just don't know?" he leans back a little, eyes darting around, seemingly genuinely pondering this.

Your hands hover over his chest, warmth radiating off you onto his skin. he gently squeezes your ass and your back stiffens, chill going up your spine. "I can't find the words so" he draws out the last word, trailing off, "can I?" he dips his eyes to where the hem of your oversized T-shirt, (already bunched up in the back from him kneading your ass,) hits your upper thighs.

He drags the fabric up and you have half a mind to tell him to get on with it already. and what feels like forever later, hes dipping his thump into his mouth, wetting it with his salivating tongue. then he brings it down to your clit. he starts rubbing at it, warm air surrounding the small bud because of how deep you are under the covers. An electric shock runs up and back down your spine at the contact he makes with now two of his fingers pressing right were youre aching for him. "oh--" you cut your own self off knowing that what;; come our of you will only be incoherent mess.

You can't see what hes doing, he can't either and although that worrying him a little bit its making the experience that much more heightened for the both of you. this way, you can stare lovingly into his eyes and see the little movements his mouth makes, slightly opening here and there, when he gains a beautiful reaction out of you or he gets a little overwhelmed at the feeling of your warm and wet pussy on his fingers. and this way he can focus on all the sounds you make, wishing to bottle up the sound and get drunk on all your moans and hisses of pleasure.

You might not be able to see, but fuck, you sure can hear and feel. as he switches from rubbing at your clit and dripping hole to finger fucking you at that pace that drives you insane, the lewd sounds youre making together is fucking perfect--- music to your ears, even. its wet and mess, hes sloppy and almost desperate for the sighs of pleasure you make, or for that look in your eyes that lets him know youre about to be in the throws of ecstasy around his fingers... cumming for him. all for him. and all because of him. the groans aloud at the thought-- him being the(only) one making you feel this good, him brining you to your high so damn well. and he knows its selfish but a part of him wants to make you cum so good and so often that youre ruined for anyone else. so that the only fingers besides your own that you know could make you feel this good are his. the only tongue good enough for you? his.

it was like his cock and your cunt were made for each other... and that made him shiver in pleasure at the thought. you didnt miss the way he was like this, though. the way his pupils dilated and his jaw clenched at times like these were a tell tale sign.

Hes sloppy with his movements a bit but has just how you two like it. so wonderful he swears that if he could, he'd encapsulate the sounds and feelings that come from this and you and stuff himself full with it to delirium everyday. And if you could, you’d surely do the same. Especially with his grunts and whimpers. God you loved those.

His fingers were already fucking so deep inside you, like you could feel his fingers curl, almost, it feels like in your fucking guts. then, you think, imagine how otherworldly his rock hard cock would be. You can feel him grazing it up and down your thigh, trying not to make it too obvious but grinding his hard on into your plush skin none the les. He occasionally bumps into his own arm the more time goes on and the more desperate he’s getting with his movements. You bring the thigh he’s doing this to up a little further as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, you’re slick forming a thick ring around the base of his fingers, dripping deliciously onto his hand.

he breathes out a grunt, barely audible to either of you. And that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore. You tug at the waist and of his boxers, his warm abdomen on your knuckles. You look up at him and before you can get the words out he’s already begging “yeah— you can. Please—“ his words come out choppy, up and down in volume but you don't care. You slip them down, too wrapped up in him touching you and you about to touch him that you don’t get them any further than his thighs. The same thighs you have dreams about— dragging yourself on them till you cum with his big hands digging into your hips, sucking hickies on them as he lets out little sighs and as his hands don’t know where to go, the list goes on.

All you wanted was him a close to you as humanly possible, with your hand gripping the full weight of him and your thumb rubbing over, almost teasing his sensitive, leaking tip. You use your spit that's mixing with his precum to let you slide up and down the length of him. He rocks into your hand, same as you to his, trying to find release. And you start to get annoyed even though at this point hes flattened out his hand, your juices oozing out onto it as his palm rubs circles onto your clit.

His fingers are starting to go slower, and deeper if that was humanly possible. but thats not why you were getting annoyed-- kai, even with how he prettily threw his head back with an open mouth in pleasure and then forward again, grunting almost into your collarbone, the rest of him wasn't staying still. he was wriggling and writhing, uncoordinated thrusts into your hand and his have breathing make you lean in for a kiss and surprisingly your teeth don't clang together.

hes still moving around too much and you realize it'd be nearly impossible to get him to cum like this. So you bring you hand off him, ignoring, just for a moment, his whines in protest, chasing after your palm like how you just chased after his lips. You gently snap the elastic waistband against his abdomen as a reminder to calm down-- to get him focused again

At this point, the two of you are halfway sitting up and halfway laying down. Not the most comfortable position but you barely care as you can feel the beautiful pit in your stomach growing and he brings you closer to sweet relief. your mouth goes agape as he rubs you a little faster. You clench around his fingers and all he can think about is how tight you'd feel around him, creaming on his cock. Youre no better, though. with your thoughts of how big you'd know he'd be inside you, because lets be honest here, its not the laying on your side facing him thats making it hard to pump his dick.

You run your thumb along the vein on the underside of his cock and his legs still then quake. Your back arches into his touch. it's all getting too much for you-- you and him pleasuring the other with your hands at the same pace. and as your eyes flutter close because fuck, that face hes making is gonna make you cum if you keep on staring at it, you can feel it. almost like hes fucking into you for real; doesn't help that hes so close to your thighs either.

"I wan' you to cum for me. I love to hear you and feel you and--"

maybe hes rambling, but its cute none the less and that makes you regain full feeling and conciseness, now being able to will your hand to glide over his slippery cock faster, You feel yourself being tipped over the edge.

Your toes curl, his heart rate jumps as you let go of his dick, brining your hand to his wrist to hold him right where you need him. you couldn't focus on anything else at the moment, you felt like he was bringing your body to heaven-- like you were fucking ascending. His lips were on yours in a flash, kissing you like it was his last as you continue humping his palm to ease through your orgasm.

You cum with a muffled curse into his chest as you fall perfectly into him. you really are made for each other, huh?

"God, you look so beautiful when you cum. your face is buried in his collarbone and your hands-- they're gonna be the death of him tonight, hes sure of it. one's rubbing slow petel-in-the-breeze-soft circles on in wrist, and the other is over his heartbeat on his chest. it wasn't anything even that sexual if his dick wasn't out and his fingers weren't soiled with your cum.

you sink yourself deeper into his neck and chuckle. "Im guessing so beautiful that you dont even notice how I dropped your dick?" you blink at him, your lashes tickling his sensitive skin.

He can't even respond before youre kissing the mole on his neck, sucking a small mark there as he lets out little "ah-ah~" next to your ear, before moving up to the one on his jaw... then the one on the other side... then the next, and then next all while watching the little red mark on his neck fade until finally youre at the beginning of his chest. and now your hand his back on him and he feels like hes gonna actually die.

how did he deal with this before? maybe its the way the sheets smell all fresh and comforting, or the way his eyes are still drowsy with sleep and the perfect golden hour light hitting and warming the room just right, or maybe the way you were just around his fingers a moment ago... but whatever it was, he felt his release rapidly approaching.

You kiss him to swallow up the sounds hes making, knowing how his tip bumping against you, nearly tapping your pussy but catching your thighs, wet with your own cum and dampened with sweat is getting to be too much for him just as it was like for you a bit ago. he craved this maybe a little bit too much; your bodies melting together, becoming one. and he really can't hold it in anymore.

"I need-- just the tip, ok? I need to feel you around me. jus' the tip, thats all" his voice comes out with labored breathing and thats all you need to hear, sliding his tip in between your dripping folds. your hand stroking what you can't fit and dipping his head in and out of your hole. not much, just enough to get him addicted to the feeling. at this point hes doing most of the work for you; moving so that his cock slides up and down your cunt, and youre revealing in it as much as you are. with him smoothing over and rubbing your clit, giving you the satisfaction of some much needed friction and the beautiful full feeling of his cock-- even just a little bit is driving you crazy. and the overwhelming want to shove all of him into you, stuffing you full on him? otherworldly. making you have to physically stop yourself from fulfilling your want, no, need, to have him fully inside.

and the way your teeth poke out of your mouth as it opens in pleasure? he feels like hes basking, wishing to drown himself in your pussy. he kisses you urgently, like fire surges through him, pouring himself and his emotions out for you, spilling himself all over your hand as your slow down your strokes, dick throbbing in your hand. your pussy convulsing around noting as he comes down from his high.

The both of your breathing slows, his whines and grunts of pleasure turn into a smile as he looks into your eyes. he reaches over to the nightstand, effectively putting his chest in your face. He plops back down a second later with a couple tissues and grabs your wrist from under the blanket still and does his best to clean it off.

Its silent as he does this, but the good kind. not awkward or dead. but comfortable like it always is with him. it wasn't until then that the both of you realized how much he came. Yeah... he was gonna need another tissue. You peck his lips at the thought and sight but he starts to wonder how the fuck that happened. You really do do wonders to him, he thinks.

He finishes cleaning his own hand next then balls up the tissues before throwing them on the floor. they could be worried about later. he brings you close to him, all he ever wanted, really; to be close enough that his heartbeat syncs with yours and that he smell the sex coming off you... feel the warmth of your skin on his.

His hands find their rightful places at your hips and tummy. Youre almost nodding off again when--

"oh I forgot to ask you!" you nearly shriek at him "did you have any dreams?" the knowing smile that creeps up onto his face tells you all you need to know. "yeah... n' maybe they were about you..." he circles you waist and brings you closer, smirk on your face as he starts sucking on your neck. "oh? just maybe?" you try to keep your composure.

A/N: hope you enjoyed! if you did, please leave some love like comments or reblogs! and please send some asks-- both hard and soft hours are open!

taglist: @itz-yerin

©️2023copyrightofshutupheathersorryheatherr do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works even if you give me credit

[littlemessyjessi]

"Herbal or Verbal?": A Holiday Marauders HP Imagine: Sirius Black

A Holiday HP Marauders Imagine 

Sirius Black x Plus Size Reader, PS Reader, Reader

Use of Y/N because frankly if I tarry too long on flushing out an oc… it will never get written and we’ll all be lucky if I post it by NEXT holiday season.  

Fem identifying reader because I love women and I just want to.   

Warnings:  Mentions of Sirius’ terrible mother? Mentions of the first wizarding war with Moldysnort and all of the trauma kind of attached to that. 

Also, if you’re under 18, get out.  I love you.  I wish you well.  A very happy holiday season to you! But get out.  Auntie says this with as much love as possible but hit the bricks, kid.  Come back when you’re older. Love you but git.  Stay warm, drink some water, eat well and be kind to yourselves though.   Just because you ain’t allowed here doesn’t mean I don’t wish you the best.  You’re worthy of love but I must insist.   Scooch on out.   

Now, then. Let’s begin. 

………..

………..

………...

Thick puffs of smoke billowed out into the cold December air. 

A sigh with a mixture of irritation and anxiety followed it. 

Sirius Black sat on the steps of his girlfriend’s flat. 

A girlfriend that was nowhere to be found at the moment despite the fact that today she’d invited their whole friend group to a holiday get-together at her own home. 

His best mate, James, was also nowhere to be found… and HIS girlfriend hadn’t a clue of his whereabouts either. 

Sirius was not often irrationally jealous when it came to Y/N and today was no different. 

However, the both of them gone at the same time had him on edge for a myriad of reasons. 

The thought of his love and his best mate having been attacked… or worse… had his blood boiling and running cold simultaneously.   

His stomach was a complete mess of knots.  

Business with the Order hadn’t been good as of late with two recent deaths and death eater numbers growing every day. 

He’d ran into his oh so delightfully awful cousin, Bellatrix, just yesterday. 

Always a pleasant experience, that one. 

Nearly tried to kill him and Sirius would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kicking her off a cliff on more than one occasion. 

Tensions had been high between him and Remus. 

The latter of which was currently sat inside the flat with dark circles under his eyes, a few new scars and barely concealed irritation as he waited ‘patiently’ on this chocolate tea that Y/N promised him. 

Lily, despite acting as if it were nothing, kept flitting back and forth in front of the fireplace as if the two of them would suddenly appear by floo powder when everyone knew damn well that Y/N sooner die than get soot in her hair before a party. 

She always apparated and floo powder was a last resort. 

“I can never get it out of my hair, Siri. Even with magic. And that must be awful for your lungs.  I can’t be bothered.” she’d told him once before when he’d suggested it as a opposed to a half a dozen trips by apparating to get the shopping home. 

To which she shamed him by shrinking the groceries, giving him an unimpressed look and apparating away in her sassy little fashion… leaving Sirius standing in the alleyway puzzled … and even more in love than usual. 

He rubbed his hands together to try and get the feeling back into them before heading inside only to be immediately mauled by Lily. 

“Have you seen them? Are they here yet?” she bombarded. 

“No, Evans.  No sign yet.” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

The two of them shared a look. 

This didn’t feel good. 

At all. 

“Where’s Peter?” he asked, aggravated at having not seen their friend today when he knew that Y/N had most definitely invited him. 

“Said something came up.” Remus supplied from the couch, his fingers digging into his temples at the headache coming on.   “I don’t remember all the details but he said to pass on his apologies to Y/N and that he’d come by when he could.” 

Sirius ground his teeth together but chose to let it go. 

He knew expressing it would only cause a disagreement between him and Remus and given that two of their group were literally nowhere to be found… now did not seem like the time. 

He had all but decided on putting out an alert with the order when the door opened and the familiar scent of gingerbread that seemed to haunt him this entire month hit him. 

He whirled around and snatched the person into his arms, burying his face in their neck. 

“Siri, love, what’s happened?” 

He squeezed the soft, cushiony woman into his frame even tighter and refused to answer but the slight shivering that coursed through him told her he was either cold or scared. 

Given the month, it could’ve been both but she figured on the latter. 

“Sirius, sweetheart, it’s alright.  I’m sorry to have worried you.” she said finally pulling him away enough to look into those stormy eyes of his. 

“Have you seen James?” Lily butted in. 

“Lovely to see you too, best friend.” Y/N teased the ginger who gave her a pleading look.  “Yes, he’s outside.  He’s been with me the whole time and he’s fine.  Although, he is standing outside my home as a deer with his tongue stuck to the fence so you might want to take some warm water with you when you go.” 

“I’m ripping him off of it without any help.” she growled. 

“I thought you were fond of his tongue, Lillian.” Y/N teased. 

“Y/N!” Lily gasped. 

“I’m sorry, Lils.  The opportunity presented itself and it was just too good to pass up.  Had to.” Y/N admitted. 

Sirius couldn’t help but smile. 

Behind those chubby cheeks and soft, sweet face was the mind of a filthy little beast and he adored her for it. 

Merlin’s beard, he was so happy that they were both safe and sound but in recent times every second of worry was justified. 

She leaned up to peck Sirius’ lips once before looking around the flat.  

“Sorry it hasn’t been decorated.  I thought we’d be back long before now but your mother was apparently very lively today.” she said pulling out her wand and with a flick the whole flat had been transformed from it’s usual decor to a magical Christmas wonderland. 

A tower of tiny cakes emerged from nowhere where a giant poinsettia set atop it like a red star. 

The table became decorated with a glittering tablecloth, tea cups adorned with a holly print and shining baubles here and there.

Sirius smiled in awe despite the rage boiling inside him at that moment. 

Y/N was everything he wanted in a person and she could turn even the simplest things into magical moments. 

Which was saying something as everyone in that flat literally went to Hogwarts but he'd never got to experience the nostalgic things of childhood holidays.  

When he met her… he realized that Y/N celebrated everything and she gave it to others as well. 

Life was an experience with her and she made every moment count. 

It was a huge driving force of what drew him to her and something that made him fall in love with her more and more every day they spent together. 

“Alright, now that that’s settled.” she said. “I need to change my outfit quickly and then we’ll be ready.  Well, once James has been detached from the fence. I did tell him not to do that but then again, I also told him not to change into a deer this time a year because it would attract children who wanted to see Santa’s reindeer… but he never listens to me anyway which is another reason as to why we're late because a tiny little ginger girl wanted to ride Santa's reindeer and because she reminded him of Lily... he couldn't very well say no. So his dumb ass did three rounds and we're both standing there freezing our bits off. And he comes back and immediately decides to lick an icicle. I honestly don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore.” 

“Y/N.” Remus spoke from the couch cutting Sirius off before he could explode. 

“Yes, dear?” she said, turning towards him for the first time that day.  

“This tea you’ve been telling me about…” he spoke tiredly. 

“Herbal or Verbal?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“Herbal or Verbal?” she said again.  “Are we talking actual hot tea or hot gossip?  I have both today.” 

Remus simply blinked at her for a moment but smiled eventually. 

The two of them had weekly ‘tea time’ during school in which they would discuss a book, have some tea… and also spill it. 

Y/N knew EVERYONE and Remus was quiet so no one suspected him. 

The two little twerps sat there under the ruse of discussing a book and gossiped for a solid hour. 

Sirius was convinced she was cheating on for a solid week until Remus told him to shove off and that he would never date someone who he viewed as a sister.  

It would be like dating Lily. 

Lily, who happened to have been standing behind him at that time, was caught between admiring him and being completely insulted. 

The tea sessions continued through school but after graduation they had been few and far between since then. 

Remus chuckled, “Both I supposed but you did tell me about a chocolate tea when we spoke last week.” 

“I haven’t forgotten, dear.” she smiled. “I think I’ve got quite a few treats that you’ll like today actually.” 

“If you two are done flirting.” Sirius said impatiently rolling his eyes. 

“Sirius, it’s not like that-” Remus began. 

“Oh, he’s not serious, Remus. Well, he is but- oh for Merlin’s sake. I am not doing this today.” she huffed. “He’s not actually jealous.  That little vein in his neck isn’t popping out yet.” 

Remus lifted an eyebrow at her and Sirius only smirked despite himself. 

“What is it, my love?” she asked, coming to stand in front of him before speaking to Remus over her shoulder.  “Remus, feel free to begin.  We’ll all join in a moment but you’re absolutely no fun when you’re peckish.” 

“Gee thanks.” he responded. 

“You’re welcome.” she sassed back before turning her gaze back to Sirius.  “Please continue, love.” 

“Why did you go to my parents’ house? Do you realize how dangerous that is in general, much less alone?” he pressed. 

“I didn’t go alone, my love.  James was with me the entire time.” she said. 

“Why go anyway?” he pressed. “It was crawling with the wrong sort even before all this started.  Y/N, I don’t like that. If something had- if- if she- if they- if you-” 

“Sirius, darling, I’m so sorry to have frightened you.” she said, her chubby fingers coming up to curl around his jaw. 

Sirius loved her hands. 

Always had. 

He’d always loved how soft they looked. 

He loved the roundness of her fingers and the smoothness on the back of her hands. 

“I promise that we were perfectly safe.   We were in disguise. Polyjuice potion in fact on James’ end.  We never separated.  We changed our voices as well.” she soothed him. 

“Why did you even go?” he pressed. 

“Well, it was one part justice for my beloved/justice for James as you and he are as brothers.” she explained. “And the other part was that it was a mission for the Order.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, love, but it was top secret. I couldn’t risk you stopping me.  There has been news that that house is being used as a meeting place for the death eaters.  You know the charms I’ve been working on lately?” 

At his nod she continued, “Well, Dumbledore asked me to place one at Grimmauld Place.  He figured with my metamorphamagus abilities, I could likely go a little more unnoticed.  He had Kingsley brew up some polyjuice potion for James and we went disguised as a couple of those children that play in the street there.” 

Sirius still didn’t like it but he also understood how Order missions went. 

“One hell of a well placed game of ding dong ditch, a snowball right in old Walburga’s face and your lady had the house bugged.  We were gone before they even knew what hit them!” came James’ voice as he and Lily finally entered the flat.  “It was brilliant, Pads, really.  She was brilliant.  I reckon old stuffy is still standing there picking snow out of her eyelashes as we speak.” 

Sirius laughed in spite of himself. 

He hated the idea of either of them going to his childhood home for more than one reason but the image of his best mate and the love of his life playing ding dong ditch and bashing his mother in the face with a snowball was just too hilarious for even him to ignore. 

“Please tell me that one of you looked at her and can share that memory.” he finally said once he’d stopped laughing. 

“Oh, mate.  I got you.” James laughed. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yes, he does because whilst I was trying to safely get us back someone insisted on getting a good look for, and a quote, 

‘Sirius has to see this.  He’ll shit himself.’ So you’re welcome to get the pensieve out and piss yourselves with laughter.  Just don’t do it on my carpet.  I’ll be back in a moment.  I have an outfit picked out specifically for today and it shall not be going to waste.” 

Sirius watched her go before he and James rushed to retrieve the pensieve. 

The two of them were rolling on the floor laughing when she returned in her holiday best, complete with a rather intricately braided mass of red and green hair in a crown atop her head adorned with holly.  

Being a metamorphamagus did have it’s perks sometimes. 

“Alright, children.  It’s time for tea.” she said, taking her seat. 

“Herbal or Verbal?” Remus smirked at her, life and color back in his face a bit more since he’d already consumed two cups of this chocolate tea and about four chocolate biscuits. 

Y/N smiled at him, “Herbal this time, love.  Mind tapping that cranberry vanilla tea for me?” 

“Ew, stop flirting with each other.” Lily teased. 

“Oh, Lillian.” Y/N said, a smirk of her own crawling onto her mouth. “I think we both know that’s not how I flirt or shall we relive the Christmas of ‘76?” 

“What happened the Christmas of ‘76?” James asked curiously, far too aware of how quickly his girlfriend’s face was beginning to match her hair. 

“Lillian’s bisexual awakening.” Y/N said only for Lily to throw a biscuit at her. 

She caught it and simply dunked it in her tea. 

“What is this about then?” Sirius asked curiously. 

“Before we got together, love.  But only just.  We were together by the following Valentine’s Day.   Lily, a bit too drunk on the firewhiskey, accused me of being too soft and sweet for the likes of you.” she said, chuckling as Lily sunk in her chair. 

Sirius nearly choked on his tea because he knew all too well that of the two of them… Y/N had a far dirtier mind than he did. 

“And you call yourself her best friend, Evans.  You don’t know her at all.” he laughed. 

“Oh trust me, I got to know a whole new side of her that night.  I finally understood why she gets whatever she wants.  She’s fucking adorable usually but when she turns on the charm… merlin, woman.  That should be illegal.” Lily said, cheeks still aflame. 

“It only works because it’s used few and far between.  It’s more shock value than anything.” Y/N said with a shake of her head. 

“Explain Sirius then.” Remus piped up. 

“He loves me.  That’s different.” she shrugged. 

“I do, love but, er, I don’t know that it’s love that causes the rerouting of every single drop of blood in my body when you give me those eyes of yours.”  Sirius admitted with a nervous laugh. 

“Yes!” Lily chimed in.  “It’s unsettling because she’s normally so cute and then, bam! She just turns it on-.” 

“And turns you on?” Remus teased. 

“I think the two of you are evil twins separated at birth.” Lily said.  “Evil, the pair of you.” 

Remus and Y/N smiled coyly at one another, thoroughly enjoying both the verbal and herbal tea that had been served today. 

And all the rest wanted to smack the pair of them. 

“Happy Christmas, Remus.” 

“Happy Christmas, Y/N.” 

“Oi! Where’s my Happy Christmas? You are my girlfriend!” Sirius interrupted, vein popping out in his neck as a smidge of true jealousy flared. 

Y/N reached out to card a hand through his hair, “I had planned on giving you part of your Christmas later on when we we didn’t have an audience, my love, but I suppose it is the holidays.  Tis the season, I guess, if you have suddenly decided you would like to try voyeurism.” 

“Oi!” he said, panicking at the idea. 

And Y/N sat there, giggling into her tea, happy to have effectively flustered the lot of them. 

Even Remus who was less flustered and more shocked at the sheer cheek of her. 

A very Happy Christmas indeed.

……

……

……

….. 

Hello, loves!  I hope you enjoy this holiday content! 

Hope ya’ll are having a great day! 

Love you. 

— 

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K, Love you, Bye!

[katyawriteswhump]

Current WIP/Master list

MASTERLIST: All my Stranger Things fic (mainly steddie, platonic stobin, 'found family' Steve & Hopper & El, harringrove) can be found HERE ON AO3

CURRENT WIP: The Power of Love (steddie, platonic stobin) Here on AO3 as part of my steve whump fic series and... on tumblr below :)

Inspired by a prompt from the awesome @stevie-crow Mainly Steve and Eddie POV, but the prologue is Robin, as she’s central in this too.

The Power of Love, Part 1/Prologue

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Prologue:

“He’s gone!” In front of the trailer, Dustin sobs, cradling Eddie’s body in his arms. “He fought like Gandalf the White then sacrificed himself like Gandalf the Grey. He was the g-greatest hero—now he’s gone.”

“No. No way.” Steve rushes to Dustin, crouches beside him. “I know CPR. I got this.”

“What?” Dustin sounds more distraught than ever, tears dripping from his nose, spattering onto all that blood. Eddie’s blood. “Steve, what’s wrong with you? He’s. Gone.”

And Robin?

She stands there like a goose. Watching as the nightmare unfolds further, beneath that evil red-lightning-cracked sky. Not only, after all they’d done, is Vecna NOT apparently dead.

Eddie blatantly IS.

Tears blur Robin’s eyes. Dustin rocks Eddie’s lifeless body to the rhythms of his sobs. Nancy Wheeler—self-contained to the point of creepiness—stands beside her, stock still. Staring. Possibly trembling, though not as bad as Robin.

Steve, however, is still in the denial phase. 

He’s gotten Dustin by the shoulders, jostling him away from Eddie. Physically dragging Dustin, then steering him toward Robin. Steve lays Eddie down flat, leans close over Eddie’s face, scrutinising for signs of life.

“Steve, you can’t help him.” Nancy sounds broken enough, reaching out. Not quite daring to touch Steve. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Let’s go.”

Robin kind of agrees with her. No way is she gonna back her up against Steve, though.

He brushes Nancy off anyhow. “I already brought two people back when I was lifeguarding. Neither were breathing. One’s heart was stopped.”

Nancy shakes her head. “The odds of even that are—”

“Christ, gimme space, Nance.”

Steve starts to administer CPR. Robin clings tight to Dustin, who clings back. She wants to close her eyes and deny any of this is happening, though… One miracle has already happened today, right?

That said, from what she’s gleaned from Dustin’s broken descriptions, Eddie’s sacrifice could’ve been the cause of said miracle. Ergo, it was not that miraculous. And possibly, all in vain. Either way, watching Steve work is killing her. He puffs into Eddie’s bloody mouth, then methodically crunches—possibly breaking—his poor ribs.

“Steve, enough!” says Nancy.

“No. I can do this.”

He squeezes Eddie’s nose, blows again into Eddie’s limp form.

“Steve, we—” Nancy gasps. Staggers back. Robin’s heart gives an actual jump.

“Eddie!” Dustin buries his fingers under his stupid little Ewok hood—was he supposed to look like an Ewok? She’s gotten no clue anymore—and throws himself forward, colliding heavily with Steve.

Robin’s witnessing her first undoubted miracle of the day.

Eddie’s eyes are open. He’s choking and spluttering blood and he’s... alive. Steve enfolds arms around him and raises him a little, tugging his collar, helping him breathe.

“I gotcha, Munson. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The next few minutes pass in the blur. Eddie vomits out a ton of blood, which makes Robin gag too, so that’s fun. Then, shakily, with Steve’s help, Eddie rises to his feet. He’s a ghastly, greenish-white and looks… like somebody who’s just died. Which is fair enough. 

He’s still not said a word. Which is not very Eddie.

“Are we sure,” Robin whispers to Nancy, “whether Steve has actually revived Eddie or if he’s been possessed by some twisted ghoul from the Upside Down?”

Nancy replies with an exasperated glare. Steve, meanwhile, hooks Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and makes for the trailer, face set with a grim determination. Robin helps Dustin, who’s limping badly.

They struggle back through the ceiling. Back out of the Upside Down, and through the place where Chrissy was mangled to death.

“It’s astonishing I’ve not been barfing constantly the past few days,” murmurs Robin to Dustin.

Dustin sniffs, rubs his pink eyes.

They’ve just exited the trailer back home, when that earthquake shit hits the fan again. A massive, fiery fissure swallows the trailer whole.

...

Chapter 1

Eddie POV

He figures he must be in shock.

He has no clue how he got where he is—sitting on a posh couch, in some open plan fancy-pants living room. His eyes are wide open, have been for some time, yet only now is he actually beginning to really see anything, to take stuff in.

Robin is staring at him, like… 

…like I just died or something!?!

Some decidedly disturbing memories trickle back. 

Oh. Shit.

She jabs at him with an antiseptic wipe, which she’s trying to smear up and under his distressingly blood-drenched Hellfire club t-shirt. The wipe is cold and stings like a bitch.

“Uuuuh, Robin?” His throat is raw, his voice wrecked. 

“Eddie!” She springs up off the couch.

“What the heck is going on?”

 “It is you, right? You’re not possessed, or—”

“Noooo. I believe it’s lil’ old me. I… I’m goddamn confused and have a distinct memory of… choking on my own blood.” Explains the gritty gunk lining his mouth and his throat, the disgusting taste. “And then… then…” 

He’s pretty damn sure he passed.

When he tries to remember that part… Nope, his brain don’t wanna, so he’s not gonna. He sure as hell recollects the not-entirely-unpleasant memory of Steve Harrington’s mouth plastered over his, marred by yet more gargling with blood, then…

“Okay, I’m gonna take on trust you’re you.” Robin doesn’t sound convinced. “So… Henderson was adamant you were dead, but then… Uh, you weren’t. Awesome as Steve is at CPR, let's assume you never really were, or that death happens differently in the Upside Down, or you weren’t as badly hurt as it seemed, or something along those lines, because… Uh, not like I’ve looked everywhere, as I think we’ve all been violated enough today, but…” She facepalms, reddening beneath her freckles. “Sorry… prattling.  As I said, I’ve not checked you everywhere, but… Eddie, you don’t even seem that badly munched.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Cool?”

Robin gives him a glass of water, and he takes a sip. Wipes his mouth on a table napkin lying close then takes a glug. God, he’s never been so parched.

She settles opposite him, on another plush couch. “Does it hurt?”

Eddie puts down the empty glass and performs a brief body scan. Sticks his hand up his shirt, which comes back predictably bloody, but it’s gritty, dry blood. His wounds have pretty much knitted up. “No. Well, it’s kinda itchy. Um, Where the heck are we? This place isn’t yours.”

“No. It’s Steve’s.”

“You’re kidding?” Eddie’s voice comes out embarrassingly high pitched. “His parents see me, they’ll call the cops and—”

“Chill. His parents are out of town. They’re literally never here.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s… um… He said he fancied a swim. Go figure. Hey, you hungry?”

“Maybe some cereal,” mumbles Eddie, which is bullshit, because he’s not hungry. However, he’s starting to shiver, and he’s verging on losing his shit, and… he needs something to feel normal. He might as well try chewing cereal, because right now, he’s chewing his nails like he’s back in third grade.

I died. I goddamn died. 

The glory of the Master of Puppets is way more of a distant dream than his recollections of being caught at the heart of that be-fanged whirlwind of death. That’s crystal-frickin’-clear. Those flapping fiends ripping into him, his defences faltering, his knees buckling… choking… drowning… the searing pain… and Dustin’s tears. 

Crap, Dustin!

“There you go.” Robin dumps the packet on Eddie’s lap, a bowl and milk on a nearby glass table. “They only have the boring overpriced brands.”

Eddie stares stupidly at the packet. “Dustin… Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s shaken. I guess we all are. Wheeler took him to get his ankle looked at. He’s… thrilled you made it. He thought you were a goner.”

Yeah. I was. I really, really was.

“Robin, how the heck am I here?”

Her mouth opens. Snaps it closed again.

The sliding doors open, and Steve steps in. Momentarily, the undiluted horror of Eddie’s recent existence evaporates. Steve looks mighty fine, dripping wet, his modesty preserved by a small-ish towel around his waist. There are scars around his throat, fresh ones piled upon the old, though really, nothing that spoils that super-hot torso…

…until he lifts the hand he’s clasped on his side, where the bats had gotten him when they went through Lover’s Lake. It’s soaked in blood. The white towel tucked beneath is slowly turning pink.

“Oh my God!” Robin launches at him, as he staggers forward, swaying slightly. “Why the hell did you think getting your wounds wet would help, dingus? There’s literally no logic there.”

“Jesus, it didn’t make anything worse. Swimming always… uh… clears my head.” She grabs him and steers him toward the seating area.

They’re almost there, when the whites of Steve’s eyes flash up. He crumples limply against Robin, who squeaks at the sudden weight, and slings him toward Eddie’s couch to break his fall.

...

Part 2

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Also now on AO3

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

Days after the Crown members submitted their report on Jude and Ellis.....

Victor: "Do you know why I called you two here?"

Ellis: "For our first mission as the Crown members?"

Victor: "That's right!! Ellis, you're such a genius. 100 points!!!"

Jude: "Whether or not I accept depends on the nature of the assignment."

Jude: "Even if her Majesty, the Queen ordered me to do so, I won't accept an assignment that would be detrimental to me."

Jude: "I won't kill people unconditionally on someone else's orders unless the conditions are acceptable."

Victor: "Hahaha. I'm well aware that you're that type of person."

Victor: "You can wait and see if you're up for the task."

Victor: "What about Ellis? Any conditions?"

Ellis: "I'm not that picky when it comes to work, so any assignment is fine for me."

Ellis: "I just wish that, when I kill someone they are at their happiest moment of life. But I think that's not really possible on a mission."

Ellis: "My only condition is that....I at least want to make sure they don't suffer?"

Victor: "I see. It may be that Jude is a no-show but Ellis is okay in some cases."

Victor: "Although, I'm sure you'll both agree to this one."

Jude and Ellis: "......?"

Victor: "Wasn't there an ex-convict you were dealing with off-duty, who was trying to make a deal for some drugs?"

Victor: "Apparently, his friends have been released and is planning to re-offend....I want you to lure them and wipe them out."

Ellis: "That person's friends.....are still around."

Jude: ".....About 'wiping them off'."

Victor: "The method you use doesn't matter as long as you prevent them from re-offending."

Jude: "............."

Victor: "Are we good?"

Jude: "Sure, I'll do it."

Ellis: "I'm fine with it too."

Victor: "Great! Well then-----"

Victor: "Loyalty to your evil tonight."

A single purple plume of smoke rises in a corner of the London Port.

Ellis: "Jude, you should quit smoking. Roger said that too."

Jude: "Smoking for me is convenient. Kids should learn to shut up."

Ellis: "You said you smoke to go out with your business partners because many of them smoke. But there is no one here."

Jude: "I never said I wouldn't smoke when no one's around."

Ellis: "Jude's 'happiest moment' will never come true if you don't live long...."

Suddenly Ellis stopped talking.

Immediately after that, several men with murderous glare and bloodshot eyes surrounded the two in the darkness.

Jude: "Why should I live long for you?"

Unconcerned that they were surrounded, Jude did not draw his weapon, but instead let out another puff of purple smoke.

Ellis: "But Jude hates breaking promises, right?"

Ellis, still smiling, slowly pulled two knives out of the leg sheath.

The moonlight reflects dully on the knife.

Tonight the moon is shining brightly in the clear night sky.

Ellis: "The moon is beautiful again tonight."

Jude: "Man, I feel like shit."

Ellis: "I'm not sure how to dispose of them, after all. Should we kill them?"

Jude: "Just restrain them as painfully as possible but keep them alive."

Ellis: "Okay."

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "Is that you? The ones who caught my brother with the drugs and killed him on the spot?"

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "How dare called us to come to the port at 11 pm?"

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "Don't think you'll make it home alive!"

The men rushed in, starting with the respective leaders who jump out.

Ellis: "Sorry. But my job is to lure you out and wipe you guys."

Ellis: "You guys are the ones who aren't going home alive."

Ellis: "Ah, but don't worry. I won't kill you right now."

Ellis: "Even though, it would probably be happier to die here....right?"

The fight was over in a matter of seconds.

Ellis: "I guess it's everyone?"

Jude: "The lists says 13. The number of trash rolling around is 2..4..6...13."

Ellis: "Looks like we got them."

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "Haa...haa....w-what...what are you...planning to do with...Arrgh?"

Jude sits down on the man's back and crushed his muddled voice.

Jude: "You're a blustering piece of trash."

Jude: "But, it's natural to concerned about what's going to happen next since you're deprived of your physical freedom now."

Jude: "So I'm making you useful and asking you to cooperate me with my research experiments."

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "E-Experiments...?"

Jude: "You might lose an eye or two or get get demented, but don't worry, you won't lose your life."

Jude: "Isn't that hell of a lot better than getting drugged and killed by god knows who, like you did to your victims?"

Man with the bloodshot eyes: "Nn...Please...Please..let me go...!"

Ellis: ".....I feel sorry for you."

Ellis: "I need to help Jude...for him to be happy, so I can't help you guys. I'm sorry."

Jude's hand touched the man's forehead and the man loses his consciousness.

Ellis: "Jude, did I at least get little closer to your happiness?"

Ellis: "Come to think of it...this was our first mission together."

Jude: "...So?"

Ellis: "But it doesn't seem any different than what we normally do."

Jude: "You dummy. Of course, it's different."

Ellis: "....?"

Jude: "We get paid for torturing people like this."

Ellis: ".........Jude, you're really nasty."

Jude: "They're an eyesore. If you got time to waste, put them in the carriage."

Ellis: "Okayyy."

...........

Victor: "Hmm..Hmm..thanks for the report! From what I've read, it sounds like it was a smooth first mission."

Victor: "That just goes to show that I have a good eye for people!"

Jude: "Don't look at me like that. You're creeping me out."

Victor: "So mean."

Ellis: "I'm glad it went well. I think I'll be able to handle more missions like this in the future, Victor."

Victor: "You two are complete opposites.....like candy and the whip...maybe we should call you guys that."

Victor: "By the way, regarding the 'wiping out' of the criminal gang, although it was stated here that they were all killed."

Victor: "I'm guessing you took them to participate in some kind of interesting experiment, right?"

Jude: "....!"

Ellis: "How did you know?"

Victor: "Let that be a secret for now. However, you don't have to lie in your report. I was the one who handed them to you, anyways."

Victor: "As long as you stay true to your evil, that's all I care about."

Jude: "....Just how much do you know?"

Victor: "I only know what's on the surface. You were on heading there on foot but a carriage left the scene."

Victor: "There is another facility in a place that you frequent, apart from the Crown castle and your workplace or business partner."

Jude: "......Do you actually have spies hiding every corner of Britain, you pervert?"

Jude: "Why is that, of all the Crown members, you're the one who's most mysterious?"

Victor: "Hahaha. Of course not. I'm just an ordinary man."

Ellis: "Ordinary?"

Victor: "I mean a man who will do whatever it takes to protect your freedom."

Victor: "....But I can't see into your hearts. So I hope you will continue to tell me things about you."

Victor: "So please feel free to tell me about your likes, dislikes, hobbies, ideal type, measurements...."

Ellis: *shocked*

Jude: "Let's get to work, Ellis."

Victor: "Wait! Come back! Come back!"

Victor: "...........Fufu."

Victor: "Those two....what a great addition to the Crown."

Victor: "Hopefully, the crown (freedom) will shine over their heads too."

｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

[antiwhores]

Surrendered! - Bakugou x villain!reader

——-

A villain who dynamite couldn’t catch? Crazy. Especially a villain that cant even villain right.

This has been sitting in the drafts for months. I just decided to finish it because I’ve been gone for a bit. Short drabble

You were possibly the most annoying fucking villain ever. Bakugou would die on that hill.

You had built quite a name for yourself in the villain society. You were known as Dynamite’s archenemy; or migma. Because you were the only villain he couldn’t get rid of. You were actually rather respected in the villain community for it.

The government calls you a villain but some people would say you’re more of an anti hero than a villain.

Its not as if you kill people or anything. You are no mass murderer - you have never killed someone. Nor do you have any planes to take over the city or destroy all heros. You have never put a civilian in danger. In fact, you’re known to help people. Sometimes during intense battles you’ll even swoop in to get civilians and maybe throw off the villains from a far. You’re just… mildly infuriating.

Your evil doings are just stupid pranks with your stupid quirk that you had no license to use. And it absolutely infuriated Katsuki.

Some of your most well known feats are as such:

you hacked into the Japan news broadcast just to stream a video of you doing horrible karaoke of old 2000s albums.

You broke into hero Dynamites agency, stole some computers and made sure to keep their location on. Then you sent the whole agency on a wild goose chase to find them and what they hoped was you.

You cut the power in the building of one of the most important hero celebrations and award ceremonies right when they were announcing the number one hero.

You planted a harmless but rapidly spreading pineapple species in low income neighborhoods. They spread like flowers in the cracks of a fluorescent city in no time. Apparently its “vandalism” but everyone got to eat for a bit.

Everything you have done, it was to piss off a certain group of people.

Dynamite started chasing you around about 3 years ago when he was climbing the ranks after UA. And in all these years he has never been able to catch you.

You are the only thing that he cant win against because you always have an idea.

So naturally, he’s heavily on guard when he follows you down a busy street. A quirk was imprinted on him to completely mask his identity. He was like a whole new person.

Little did he know that you knew it was him. He can hide his face and voice but he can’t hide his booming presence.

Too bad you didn’t have time to indulge in some teasing with him. You had just done another one of your crimes a week ago and you had to see someone. It wasn’t too bad this time, you just blew up a building that was destroying the local echo system. No one was hurt, you evacuated everyone.

This person you had to see had key information on another man you needed to find. So you hoped that Dynamite would fuck off long enough for the quick conversation to end as you stood in an alleyway.

The man spoke to you in your mind. A telekinetic.

When he was done, he spoke aloud.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, offering you one. You refused. “Also, I’m sure you know this lass but…” He puffs out smoke to the opposite side of you and points directly at the wall Dynamites hiding behind. “That man has been following us for quite a bit!”

Dynamite barely holds back his sharp intake of breath. He thought that he was being to slick! What the fuck is up with you and your friends? At least you didn’t know who he was.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “thats my best-friend.” You spun towards him, lifting your hands to project your voice. “Where are your manners? Following a lady! Come say hello Dynamite!”

Damn it all.

In a split second he’s on you but you’re even faster. You’re suddenly behind him, embracing him in a tight hug.

“I haven’t seen you in like 6 months, Dynamite!” You squeal. “I was afraid you moved on to those other stupid villains. Like that bitch Movaro. You know, she tried to kill me!”

He’s been held in this grip before and he knows you have no intention of running away until he cuffs you so he just lets you speak into his neck.

“Serves you fucking right.” He reached behind his back and drags you off by your hoodie with one hand. You just let him hold you off the ground in front of him with a smile.

Although he hates to admit it, he’s grown quite attached to you. These past 3 years have been… weird. All he thinks about is how he wants to jail you already. But jailing you seems so wrong for him. You’re a villain, sure, but no extra has avoided him successfully for 3 years straight like you have.

He slams you against the wall and pins you there, preparing for a move to escape. You just smile at him though, “I have good news!”

You put your hands up and behind your head, “I give up!”

[lendeah]

After the Weave 4.

series masterlist

Summary: Following the Duke's murder, Elara and Astarion find themselves detained by the Flaming Fists and interrogated by detective Valeria. Somehow, they are forced to spend a pleasant evening in the barracks' basement, and the outcome is far from what they anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.

Word count: 5.2k

"How come every time there is a series of murders, it's always you guys around?" Valeria asks, their pipe perched as always.

The Basilisk Gate Barracks are filled to the brim, with every fist trying to talk down the nobles assembled there. Most of them are still in formal attire, adding to the chaos of the situation. Meanwhile, Blaze Elin, a gruff woman with a thick scar running down her cheek, stands at the front of the room, trying to maintain some semblance of order. She had called all of the Flaming Fists in for an emergency meeting, and now they stand tensely, waiting for her orders.

"We have no idea who is behind these murders," she barks, voice booming through the barracks. "But I can assure you, we are working tirelessly to solve this case. I urge you all to share any information you may have so that we can bring justice to the Duke's murder. And then you can go home and rest easy knowing we are doing everything in our power to protect Baldur's Gate." Her eyes scan the room, daring anyone to go against her judgment.

Valeria flies around the room, their eyes narrowed skeptically. "That's what they always say," they spat lowly, their words like venom.

Astarion is slumped in his chair, his white hair falling across his face as he rolls his eyes dramatically. "Must we linger in this dull abode any longer? We have divulged everything we know," he complains, casting a side glance at the detective.

We both knew that was a lie, of course. We hadn't told Valeria about the spawn under the city. Or the ones in the Underdark, for that matter. It was too risky to spread the word about their existence.

But Valeria wasn't easily fooled. They perch on top of a bookshelf, piercing gaze fixed on us. "I know you're hiding something," they state matter-of-factly.

Astarion scoffs. "And what makes you think that?"

Valeria tilts their head to the side, their pipe still clenched between their teeth. "How about your sudden return to Baldur's Gate socialite? Your involvement in an apparent "charity hospital for children"? And let's not forget your companion here, which you have suddenly reunited with after months." They gestured towards me with a wingtip.

I can feel my stomach knotting with anxiety, but Astarion just laughs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh please, detective, I'm flattered that you find my life so interesting. But I assure you, the only thing I am involved in is solving this terrible murder case."

Valeria raised an eyebrow skeptically, as they calmly blew a puff of smoke.

"Is that so? Then tell me, why does every corpse we are finding present bite marks? Vampire bite marks?"

My heart skips a beat at Valeria's accusation. I know they are onto us. Astarion, however, remains once again unfazed. He leans forward in his chair, his lips curling into a sly smile. "My dear detective, are you implying I am the culprit just because I'm a vampire?"

Valeria's expression remained unreadable, their pipe still clenched between their teeth. "I'm not ruling out any possibilities," they replied evenly.

Astarion chuckles, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug. "Well then, I suppose anyone could be the culprit."

Valeria's eyes narrow at his nonchalant attitude. "You seem awfully calm for someone who is being accused of killing multiple people," they state, their tone laced with suspicion.

Astarion's smile falters for a moment before he regains his composure. "My dear detective, I assure you, I am not responsible for these murders. Do you have any evidence to suggest otherwise?" He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. "And in this case, the simplest explanation is that there is a vampire on the loose, preying on unsuspecting victims. Just because I am a civilized vampire, doesn't mean every of my kind is." he ends with another casual shrug. Gods, he is good.

I take a sharp breath and blurt out. "You know, this could be considered vampire discrimination!"

Valeria raises a skeptical eyebrow at my outburst. "Vampire discrimination? I highly doubt that, Miss. Not when we have solid evidence pointing towards a vampire as the suspect."

I clamp my mouth shut, realizing that I may have just made things worse. Astarion gives me a warning look before turning his attention back to Valeria.

"Forgive her, detective. As you know, she tends to let her emotions get the best of her," he says with false charm.

Valeria seems to consider this for a moment before speaking again. "Then why would this vampire target specific people? The past victims were normally lower class, but the Duke and his family were well-protected and respected individuals."

Astarion shrugs again. "Perhaps it was just a simple case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like we were."

I can see Valeria nod reluctantly at Astarion's words, but their eyes continued to bore into us with suspicion.

"Well then, if you come across any information or leads from your kind, be sure to inform me," they say sternly before standing up from their perch on the bookshelf. "I trust you, but I will be keeping a close eye on the both of you."

We both nod solemnly and finally get up to head out. At this point, only a handful of nobles are left to be interviewed. Among them is Lady Saphira, her elegant dress sparkling in the dim light. When she catches sight of us, her painted lips curl into a warm smile and she waves us over eagerly.

Regrettably, just as we are about to exit the building, I catch a glimpse of the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. The soft orange and pink hues cast a warm glow over the city, signaling the start of a new day. I look at Astarion with a grimace, knowing this means we are unable to walk outside. The elf lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of cover.

"Well, well, it appears we'll have to find some shelter until nightfall," he mutters.

I nod in agreement, my mind already racing with thoughts on where we could go. And then I realize: we are in the Barracks. I look to the corner of the room, where the door to a small staircase lies hidden out of sight.

"Maybe we could rest in my old basement until then?" I ask.

Astarion turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "Your basement? Well, I suppose it's better than wandering out in the open..." he says with a hint of skepticism.

However, as I lead him to the door, I notice a guard is currently standing in front of it, and he would surely notice if we were to go down. During my time here, the Barracks were often pretty empty, so I didn't worry about the Fists finding out I was using their basement as my home.

I try to call the magic to my hands to cast an invisibility enchantment, but it is so rusty from months of no use that barely a few sparks appear.

Astarion, noticing my thoughts, places a hand on my arm and smiles. "Darling, you can just ask me to cause a distraction."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eyes. "And just what kind of distraction are we talking about?" I ask.

Astarion smirks, his charming smile reaching his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, Astarion reaches into his cloak and retrieves a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid. He holds it up to the light, the liquid sparkling like stardust. "This," he says, waving the vial playfully, "is a little something I acquired during our time apart. It's an enchantment potion that can cause illusions. But not just normal illusions, big illusions. Trust me, it'll be quite the spectacle."

I nod, dubious of the effectiveness of said potion. "Alright then, show me what you've got."

He smirks, and gets closer to my ear to whisper, "¿Ready to run?"

Without another word, Astarion forcefully throws the vial to the other side of the room where it explodes in a thousand shards. I watch in amazement as an image of a huge ogre appears in the corner of the room, letting out a deafening roar.

Panic erupts among both the soldiers and nobles as they scramble to either arm themselves and prepare for battle or run away. The Fist in front of the door immediately runs to help in the chaos, leaving the door unguarded. The image of the ogre is so realistic that even I start to panic for a moment, but then Astarion's hand grabs mine and pulls me towards the stairs. As we run, my ball gown gets caught on one of the tables, causing me to stumble and almost fall. But Astarion quickly catches me and effortlessly detaches my dress from the table.

"Come on, we need to move fast," he urges, his grip tightening on my hand.

I nod and we continue our escape. Soon, we reach the small door, and it takes all my strength to open it since I haven't used it in so long. Finally, with a loud creak, it swings open revealing a dimly lit staircase that goes down into the basement. I quickly urge him forward and close the door behind us, making sure to lock it. The sound of chaos from above fades as we hurry down the stairs into the darkness. I can feel Astarion's hand gripping mine tightly, guiding me through the narrow staircase.

As we reach the end, I see another door, this one larger and made of metal. It has a large lock on it, but before I even remember where I left the key, Astarion quickly takes out a set of lockpicks and skillfully picks the lock. The door opens with a soft creak, revealing a small underground room, barely lit from a small window to the street. Astarion collapses onto a nearby chair with a grin on his face.

"Well, that was exhilarating," he says with a laugh, catching his breath.

I take a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief as I sink down onto another chair beside Astarion. My hands shake as I begin to remove the layers of my ball gown, leaving only the outer scarlet texture that falls freely over my feet. Astarion watches me with amusement in his eyes as I struggle with the intricately designed dress. Finally, I manage to pull it off and throw it onto the floor, feeling suddenly free from its suffocating hold.

"I can't believe you had an enchantment potion on you," I say.

Astarion shrugs nonchalantly. "What can I say? I like to be prepared for any situation."

I chuckle and then take a look at my surroundings.

As I take in the room, my chest constricts. Despite it only being two weeks since I last stood here, it feels like a lifetime has passed. The room is dirtier and more somber than I remembered. A small bed sits in one corner, with a tiny window near the roof as its sole source of light. Two old chairs and a table, coupled with an old sofa, make up the rest of the barren furnishings. Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor, along with many plates of half-eaten food. Oh, and it absolutely stinks.

I can't help but feel ashamed of Astarion's presence; I don't want him to see this place. Don't want him to realize how low I fell before he took me in.

Astarion takes note of my discomfort and raises an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, love?" he asks, concern coloring his voice.

I force a smile and shrug it off. "It's just...I didn't think it had gotten this bad," I say, trying to brush it off casually.

Astarion's eyebrows furrow in concern as he takes in the state of my basement. "What do you mean?" he asks softly.

I sigh and avoid his gaze. "I hadn't been taking care of myself properly since... since Gale left," I admit with a hint of sorrow in my voice.

Astarion's expression softens and with a tenderness that surprises me, he takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Elara," he says, sincerity lacing his words. "I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long."

I shake my head, feeling a touch of guilt for bringing up the subject. "It's not your fault, Astarion. I'm sure you had your own reasons for leaving," I say, trying to reassure him.

Astarion nods, but I can see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. He stands up and starts looking around the room, "Let's clean this place up a bit, shall we?" he says with a grin, picking up empty bottles and plates.

I can't help but laugh at his sudden enthusiasm for cleaning.

"Oh, you? Engaged in the noble art of cleaning? I am astonished."

Astarion gives me a mock offended look. "Why yes, my dear, I am capable of more than just thievery and seduction," he retorts with a smirk.

I laugh again and join him in cleaning up the mess. Together, we spend the next hour tidying up the basement. It's a surprisingly cathartic experience, feels as if we are washing away the memories of my past struggles together.

When we finish cleaning, Astarion looks around with satisfaction. "Much better," he says with a smile.

I look around as well and feel a weight lift off my shoulders. The room is no longer dark and depressing; although still austere, it feels a bit more cozy and welcoming now.

"Thank you," I say sincerely to Astarion.

Just when I am prepared to sit on the makeshift sofa, I notice a stray bottle hiding between the wall and the bed. Curiosity getting the best of me, I reach for it and realize it's still full.

"I really spent five months drowning my sorrows in ale. What a brilliant strategy, right?" I say, reaching it with a heavy sigh.

I sit defeatedly back on the sofa. Astarion looks at the bottle in my hand, deep in thought. After a moment, he turns to me with a determined expression.

"Why don't we make a different kind of toast?" he suggests, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?" I ask.

Astarion settles beside me on the plush sofa, grabbing the last bottle of ale. "Let's share this final bottle, closing the chapter as it began," he suggests with a wistful smile. "And then let us make a promise to each other – to move forward as one."

I look at Astarion in surprise, not sure what to make of his sudden declaration. But something in his eyes tells me that he is being genuine, and I can't help but feel touched by his words.

I nod slowly, and Astarion opens the bottle with ease "To new beginnings," Astarion says, raising the bottle in a toast, and gulps with a grimace. "Gods, this ale is awful."

I chuckle and take a sip myself. The drink is strong and bitter, but I find myself enjoying it more than I thought I would. We sit in comfortable quietness for a few moments, passing the bottle back and forth.

"I can't believe the Duke is dead..." I say, breaking the silence. "Wyll..."

Astarion nods, his expression grim. "Yes, and he won't have a clue unless he graces us with his presence again."

I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I wish there was a way to contact them."

Astarion leans back against the sofa, taking another swig from the bottle of ale. "It seems we are also very screwed," he says bluntly."No noble will want to help a vampire now, even with a charming hero by my side."

I roll my eyes at his choice of words, but can't deny the truth in them. I bite my lip. "And now everyone will hate you even more," I murmur.

"I'm used to it by now, that is the least of my worries," Astarion shrugs nonchalantly."The problem is the Underdark spawn. We can't keep covering to sustain them if the nobles don't pay us."

Astarion takes another swig of the ale, his expression troubled despite trying to conceal it. I can't help but admire his genuine dedication to the well-being of the spawn.

"You're right, but we can't just let them starve," I say, thinking of the innocent children that were turned into spawns by Cazador.

Astarion nods in agreement. "We'll have to come up with a solution soon or else things will only get worse."

I take a deep breath and try to think of a plan. "Perhaps we could find the culprit spawn? That way, instead of being labeled as monsters, the nobles might see us as saviors in the end. Plus, you know, prevent further harm to innocent lives."

Astarion looks at me with a smirk. "Ah, always the hero. But finding the spawn? That's a risky move, my dear. They're not exactly known for their civility or cooperation. Much less yours or mine."

I raise an eyebrow at Astarion's comment. "I never said it would be easy, but it could be worth a try. We can't just sit here and do nothing while they go around killing more innocents."

Astarion nods slowly and then gives me a sly smile. "Well, looks like we'll have to go on a little hunt. We'll most certainly find them, but we must tread lightly and play our cards just right."

"I agree," I say with determination. "We can start tomorrow and see what we can find out."

A heavy silence settles between us, the warmth of the ale slowly creeping into my mind. Suddenly, I feel emboldened by the alcohol and ask the question that has been nagging at me for months: "What did you do during all that time we were apart?"

Astarion looks at me with surprise before a small smirk forms on his face. "Oh, just the usual. Drinking, gambling, and charming my way into the beds of highborn virgins."

I raise an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. "Just kidding, of course. Well, mostly kidding."

I roll my eyes at Astarion's flippant response. After what I saw at the party, I am more than sure that he has indeed been visiting a lot of bedchambers. The thought, for some reason, doesn't sit well with me.

"Seriously though, what did you do?" I press on, trying to distract my thoughts. We are so close our arms are touching, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

"As much as I wish to boast about how I was far off better than you... I cannot" He sighs. "Hiding in the shadows once again took a toll on me, and I fear it may have shattered me completely. I never thought I would have to resort to such methods again. It was like reliving a nightmare."

Astarion takes another swig of ale before continuing. "I spent most of my time huddled in my bedchambers. My appetite disappeared, along with any sense of purpose or thought. All I could do was lay there, consumed by my own despair."

His raw confession tugs at my heart, causing it to clench painfully. My mind struggles to process this new side of Astarion - so unlike the guarded and closed-off man I thought I knew. It's almost as if he's a completely different person now, changed by the events of these past few months. Or perhaps, his sudden honesty is simply a result of the alcohol loosening his inhibitions.

I find myself reaching out to gently place my hand over his in comfort. He just looks to the wall, as if his mind is elsewhere, and keeps talking. "I was utterly alone. Everyone else had found their own happily ever after - Lae'zel fulfilling her duties to her people, Shadowheart finding her true calling, Wyll and Karlach, you know, at least they were together. And then there was you and Gale..." He looks over at me with an unreadable expression before turning his gaze back to the wall. "I couldn't help but feel envious of all of you. It seemed like everyone had moved on except for me."

I take a deep breath, his thoughts resonating so deep within me, reminding me of my own struggles back when I was alone and trying to help everyone. "I understand what you mean," I say softly, squeezing his hand lightly. "I've been there too, feeling like everyone has moved on and left me behind."

Astarion shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "It's not their fault. It's just... hard being alone after so long. It reminded me too much of my old life."

I nod, "I can imagine how hard it must have been for you," I reply sincerely.

"Surviving wasn't easy, but I managed." He says with a hint of amusement, "Dalyria found me cowering in the bedroom after a month and gave me quite the scolding. But then she helped me dust off my pride and put me back on my feet. She knew we needed all hands on deck to deal with the spawn, and apparently, I was deemed the most capable." With a shrug, he sums it up, "And that's how it went."

His final words are a bit slurred as if the alcohol is getting to him too. I grasp his hand tightly, not wanting to let go even as the world around us spins. His skin is cold against mine and I can feel the tremble in his fingers.

"Well, we're not alone anymore. We're together." I whisper, my words also a bit slurred.

Astarion looks at me with surprise before a small smile forms on his face. "Together," he repeats, his voice muddled, before pulling back and taking another swig of the bottle. My gaze follows the movement as his strong hand grips the bottle, his soft lips enveloping the tip, his translucent eyelashes fluttering shut in pleasure. My mind reels as I watch his throat move while he gulps, and for some reason, my drunken haze makes me ache with desire for him.

His red eyes connect with mine, and I can feel myself getting flustered under his intense gaze, caught in the act.

A faint smirk appears on his lips as he takes another swig of ale. "Do you like what you see?" he teases, and his voice is now low and husky.

I have the urge to look away, a blush creeping onto my cheeks. But instead, I reply emboldened by the alcohol, "Maybe."

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face. He leans closer, his breath fanning against my ear. "Well, isn't that interesting," he whispers, his voice dripping with playful suggestion. "Perhaps we should explore this newfound curiosity of yours."

My heart skips a beat as his words hang in the air, my mind buzzing with a mixture of desire and confusion. A part of me wants to push him away, to remind myself that this is just the alcohol talking, but another part of me yearns to indulge in this intoxicating connection we share. It's been so long since I've felt this desire, this need. So long since I've been touched.

Summoning up the courage, I lean in closer to his ear, our knees now touching.

"Do you like what you see?" I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. From this close, I can admire the small moles dotting his cheek, and fight the urge to trace them with my fingertip.

Astarion chuckles softly and pulls back slightly, his red eyes locking onto mine. His lips curl into a mischievous smile as he places his free hand on my thigh. His touch sends an electric jolt through my body, igniting a fire within me. "Who are you and what have you done to my dear Elara?" he asks teasingly.

Our faces are now mere inches apart, our bodies pressed against each other.

"Do you like what you see?" I repeat, surprised at how low and sultry my voice comes out.

Astarion leans in closer, his nose barely brushing mine. "I do," he replies, his voice filled with desire. "Who could resist such a stunning creature?"

The tension between us is palpable as Astarion's hand continues to trail up my thigh, his touch igniting a burning desire within me even through the thick fabric of my dress. I don't know if he is pretending anymore, my head is swimming, my thoughts clouded by the alcohol and his touch. I know he can hear my heartbeat, his pupils expanded to the point where there is no crimson in them. He licks his lips, briefly showing his fangs, and I can't help but shiver, my body remembering the way they felt on my neck.

Without fully realizing what I'm doing, I take my trembling hand to his neck, touching the bite mark there softly, and caress my way to the base of his throat. My fingers tremble as I tug on the strings of Astarion's black shirt, feeling the smooth fabric open to reveal his sculpted chest. The dim sunset light from the basement window casts a golden glow over him, accentuating his every muscle and curve. He looks like a creature carved out of marble, perfect in every way.

Astarion watches me with intense eyes as I trace my fingers down his chest, feeling the softness of his skin under my touch. His breath hitches slightly and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his hunger for me radiating off of him, and it only fuels my desire.

"How long has it been?" Astarion's hand goes up and cups my cheek gently, his thumb stroking my skin softly "How long has it been since someone touched you?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. "It's been a while," I admit, feeling vulnerable and exposed under his intense stare.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Astarion's lips as he leans in closer once more. Our lips brush lightly again, sending all kinds of electric feelings along my skin. "You are drunk," he whispers.

And then, he pulls back completely, retrieving his hand. A wave of disappointment washes over me and I can't help but whine at the lack of contact.

"B-but I want to," I say, my words almost gibberish.

He just shakes his head and gets up to get even further away, allowing me to see I wasn't the only one affected by our exchange.

"You will regret it tomorrow." He adds, "If you still want to when you sober up, I will more than oblige."

The room suddenly feels cold and empty with Astarion away from me. I can't help but feel disappointed, my desire still burning strong within my veins.

"I won't regret it," I say with determination, but my words are slightly slurred from the alcohol. "I want you."

Astarion's eyes darken with desire as he looks at me, but he shakes his head again. "Oh darling, you are clearly drunk," he repeats, "And a whiny, obnoxious one at that."

I pout, feeling rejected and frustrated. Why won't he just give in to our mutual desire? Is it really because I'm drunk? Or maybe because he thinks I'm not good enough for him? Is this even his true self, or is he simply pretending to be flirty as usual?

"Can we please go home now, precious little crybaby?" he drawled with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

My pout deepens as I watch Astarion head towards the door. "Fine," I mutter, standing up and swaying slightly as the alcohol starts to hit me harder.

Astarion's teasing grin transforms into a devilish chuckle as he observes my unsteady steps. "Oh, darling, is this your attempt at seduction?" he quips with a wink. "I won't fall for it, but I'll gladly watch you stumble."

But then he comes to stand beside me and with his firm grip, he assists me in walking up the stairs once more. The barracks lay eerily quiet and devoid of life in the cover of night, the moon casting an eerie shadow over our movements. As we walk through the empty hall, Astarion's arm finds its way around my waist for support, and my mind is still consumed by thoughts of our previous interaction. The alcohol in my system makes me more aware of his touch and the way his body presses against mine.

Before leaving the place, Astarion turns to face me with a mischievous grin on his face. "Now, shall we finish our little promise?" he asks in a low voice.

I can feel my cheeks heating up at his words and I nod eagerly. I hold out my hand "I promise to move forward from this place. And from Gale. And from the ale."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at my wobbly words, but he takes my hand in his and gives it a firm shake. "Together," he says with a smirk, his grip surprisingly steady despite the amount of alcohol we've consumed. How is he not drunk? He drank more than me!

As we make our way back to the Palace, Astarion keeps his arm around me, guiding me through the now-dark streets of Baldur's Gate. Despite the alcohol clouding my senses, I can't help but feel safe and protected by his presence, and I unconsciously lean into his touch. As we reach the metal gates of the Palace, I am starting to sober up, and he finally releases his grip on me and opens the door.

"Well," Astarion says, leaning against the door frame with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That was certainly an interesting day."

I roll my eyes at his comment, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. It's bad enough that I made a fool of myself in front of Astarion, but now he's going to tease me about it too?

"Can we just forget about it?" I mumble, trying to brush off the embarrassing events of the evening.

A cunning smirk spreads across Astarion's face as he gazes at me. "Oh, don't worry darling," he drawls. "I will most definitely forget." but his words drip with sarcasm.

I roll my eyes at Astarion's teasing comment, but I can't deny the small flicker of disappointment at the thought of him forgetting about our drunken encounter. Despite trying to push those memories away, they keep resurfacing in my mind. The way Astarion's fingers had felt against my skin, the desire burning between us... I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Astarion leads me inside and we have barely taken two steps when two figures appear in front of us.

"Are you two drunk?"

Astarion and I freeze in our tracks as Shadowheart and Lae'zel stand before us, their arms crossed and disapproval etched on their faces. My heart stops at the sight of the two women.

I straighten myself, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. I can feel my face flushing with embarrassment, desperately wishing for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Astarion, ever the smooth-talker, steps forward with a sly grin.

"My two favorite companions!" he replies, feigning innocence. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to my modest property?"

Shadowheart and Lae'zel exchange a doubtful glance before turning their attention back to Astarion.

"We've been waiting here the entire day for the both of you," Shadowheart says, her tone serious. "We heard the Duke died, and it's clear you two were entangled in the mess somehow."

Lae'zel finally speaks up, her voice cold and commanding. "We are here to deal with the wreckage you left behind."

Tag List - @astarioffsimpmain, @amazingnerd, @ayselluna

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 4

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Alfons led us to a room in the estate…

Alfons: Take a look inside.

When I peeked through the door, I was greeted with the strangest scene.

Glass inhalers lined the walls and party attendants were spread around the room, eyes glazed over—

I gently closed the door to not make any noises.

Roger: Those vacant eyes means they’re high.

Kate: …

Recreational—Just a glance had me realize the kind of effects the drugs had on your mood.

Alfons: As you can see, a show with laughing gas was going on. Aah, they looked blissful.

While I gave Alfons a reproachful look at the amusement in words, Roger calmly analyzed the scent in the air.

Roger: This smell…it’s ether.

Kate: Ether?

Roger: Ether’s a type of anaesthetic currently used in treatment. However, I’m personally skeptical of its use.

Kate: Why?

Roger: Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine if handled by an expert, but it’s dangerous if handled by amateurs. Worst case, an overdose can be fatal. Not only that, it’s highly addictive. I get wanting to escape reality and lose yourself in pleasure, but this is too risky. It’s a foolish thing to do.

However, Alfons disagreed with the perfectly reasonable opinion.

Alfons: You think so? Reality is full of shit…You need to escape to live.

Roger: Running away won’t change how shitty reality is. It just makes you feel more empty.

Alfons: That part of you is what makes me hate you so much I could throw up.

Kate: Um, we don’t have time to argue, you two…!

When I whispered for them to stop, the two looked away from each other.

Roger: …I wouldn’t mind just leaving them here if not for Her Majesty’s orders. “The hazard must be stopped,” she said.

Alfons: We’re not exactly heroes of justice.

Roger looked from Alfons to me with serious eyes.

Roger: Ether vapors are reactive to fire and can cause explosions. We’ll need to ventilate the area immediately and seize the evidence. Kate, you stay out in the hall. Don’t go in.

Kate: Got it!*

—From here on, it’s “Crown’s” job.

--

(I hope Roger and Alfons are okay…)

While the two dealt with the ether, I waited in the deserted hallway.

At that moment, the loud sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway could be heard.

(T-that scared me…)

I was so distracted when the clock struck midnight that I didn’t hear the door of what I thought was an empty room open behind me.

???: Oh? I didn’t realize we had a new guest.

Kate: …!

When I turned around, he’d already grabbed my hand…

And dragged me into a room with the scent of ether.

There was no one else in the room. Apparently the gentleman was the only one enjoying the ether.

Dazed Gentleman: My lovely lady. You came here to forget reality too, right?

Kate: I, um…I just got lost in this estate, so excuse me!

Dazed Gentleman: Just take two or three puffs and you’ll have a taste of the unknown world of death with a return ticket in hand. Now, come here…

The gentleman’s eyes were vacant, as if he hadn’t heard me…

(This man’s already addicted to ether)

Eyes unfocused, he tried to get me to suck on the pipe connected to the glassware.

Kate: Stop!

I struggled to escape, but the gentleman was too strong.

(What do I do…)

Cornered, my heart pounded loudly…

(Ah…)

Suddenly, past memories popped in my mind.

~~ Flashback ~~

Man 1**:  The delivery was delayed due to construction?

Man 2: Ha, how typical for a female postal worker.

--

Woman 1: Women can’t beat men anyway, so it’s dumb to fight back isn’t it?

--

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

—So please, don’t kill me.

~~ Flashback end ~~

I could hear my own voice coming from somewhere…

(...I don’t want to remember…)

Memories rushed forward like a muddy stream, and I shut my eyes tightly.

Roger: …Hold up. If you don’t wanna get shot, let her go.

When I slowly opened my eyes and saw Roger, I relaxed.

Kate: …Roger.

Roger: Kate, did you inhale any of it?

Kate: No…I’m…okay.

Roger nodded and struck the gentleman in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.

The gentleman collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, and Alfons’ head appeared from behind the door.

Alfons: The evidence has been safely seized. Let’s get the hell out of here.

--

We headed home through the deep darkness of night while keeping an eye out for any pursuers or  watchful eyes.

Alfons: Tonight’s mission ended peacefully without bloodshed. How unsatisfying.

Roger: With the evidence and report, we’ll can finally classify ether as a poison and regulate its sale.

Kate: …

Alfons: Ah, that’s right! I happen to have two tickets for tonight’s play.

As he said that, he held them out to me.

Kate: These tickets! They’re for the play everyone’s been talking about that’s hard to get tickets for, aren’t they?

Alfons: It would seem so. I received them through El’s connections, but… Unfortunately, I can’t go as I have some personal matters to attend to. I’ll give them to you, so why don’t you go see it with Roger?

Kate: With Roger…?

While I tilted my head and wondered why he brought up Roger…

Alfons: I’ll be taking my leave now.

I watched him head toward the entertainment district and then melt into the dark valley between buildings.

Kate: Um, what should I do with these…?

Roger: Just a heads up, I’m not interested in anything related to the arts, like theater or paintings. If we go, I’m only going to escort you.

Kate: Were you planning on going with me?

It was rather surprising.

(I thought he’d go straight to a bar after work than do something he wasn’t interested in)

Roger: The show’s about to start. Let’s go.

Kate: O-okay.

I followed Roger as he walked away as if on a mission.

--

(Wow, it’s been a while. This atmosphere…)

As soon as the curtains opened, the audience that had been chatting amongst themselves were captivated by the spectacular stage and forgot about reality.

I loved this feeling of falling into a dream.

(But…)

For some reason, I couldn’t take anything in tonight.

(I love going to the theater so much that it’s pretty much become my only hobby, and we have great seats…)

Kate: …

The story continued as if passing right through my heart.

During the middle of the play, I suddenly noticed eyes on me and I redirected my gaze from the stage to the person beside me.

Roger: …

(...?)

Roger jerked his chin and quietly stood.

Roger: …Let’s go.

Kate: Huh? …Ah, wait.

--

Kate: Roger, why did you suddenly leave your seat? It’s rude to the performers—

Roger: There’s something up with you. Your tail’s been drooping since the mission ended.

(Tail?)

Treating my like a dog aside, I understood what he meant.

This was the first time I couldn’t focus on a play.

Roger: Sorry for leaving my seat when I wanted. It’s an insult to the art. But isn’t it sadder to watch something you like with negative feelings and end up hating it?

I don’t know myself +4 +4

I don’t know how I’m feeling

Did I do something weird?

Kate: I don’t understand myself. I love watching plays, but for some reason, I couldn’t concentrate…

Roger: That’s because your mind was somewhere else.

(Huh?)

Roger: I’m no counselor, but I think you need someone to talk to. Kate, look me in the eyes.

I raised my gaze like he told me to.

Our eyes met under the light illuminating Piccadilly. 

Kate: …

Roger: That’s it. Good. I’ll never dismiss your thoughts. I’ll agree to anything. Kate. What’s making you so sad?

(What’s making me sad is…)

Amber eyes staring straight back at me unraveled my heart.

Kate: Earlier, when the man held me, I tried to resist…but he wouldn’t budge.

Roger: You had this faraway look in your eyes as if remembering something. What did you remember?

~~

Man 1:  The delivery was delayed due to construction?

Man 2: Ha, how typical for a female postal worker.

Woman 1: Women can’t beat men anyway, so it’s dumb to fight back isn’t it?

~~

Kate: The feeling of being looked down upon because of what you were born as…The feeling of being ignored.

Roger: Kate. What frustrates you?

(...Frustrates?)

(Oh, I see…)

Perhaps I had been labeling all these events as sadness and ignoring the anger welling up inside me.

Because getting angry was pointless.

Because I hated being reminded that…

…Giving up is easier.

(What…was I frustrated with? What was I angry about…?)

~~

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

(So please, don’t kill me)

~~

(When I was brought to Crown’s castle, I didn’t have a choice but to do that to beg for my life)

Maybe…if I had been stronger, things could’ve gone differently.

There are so many things in life that are beyond your control.

But—How you handle it is up to you.

When I came to that realization, thoughts just started spilling out.

Kate: I’m…frustrated…by how weak I am.

Roger: Last question. Kate, what do you want to be?

Kate: I…

Next

-

*Fought the urge for me to have Kate say “Roger!”

**Interestingly, Man 1 and Man 2’s lines were all said by one person in chapter 0

[o-sn4pple]

i hope i speak for many when i say we *are* here for the furina fic

oh cool, here's the 4th chapter. i'd recommend going for the 5th and 6th chapter on ao3 here.

“How dare you act as if everything you’d done was justified!”

“Act? Act? I was justified! That bastard dared laid a hand on my brother-”

“Your brother was nothing more than a disgusting pedophile. He deserved to be put down-”

“He served his sentence in the Fortress of Meropiede, stayed well away from the city and any other human and continued his work in solitude. You were the one that encouraged your husband to go kill him. I was only returning the favor!”

Furina nearly giggles as the verbal confrontation continues, settling for kicking her feet so as to not drown out their arguments. A case in which a convicted pedophile is murdered by a high-ranking Maison Gardiennage before turning the gun on himself, upheld only by their surviving spouses. In cases like these, where both sides of the scale are stained with mud, she often finds herself perfectly content with whatever outcome Neuvillette decides. Even though it isn’t dramatic enough to save Fontaine from disaster, it does make for excellent drama.

At least, she assumes as much. When she glances at you, she finds your jaw wired tight, shoulders stiff and poised. Every part of you looks ready to escape the Opera Epiclese; she can only assume that her presence is keeping you trapped here. 

It’s a first, and it’s enough for Furina to scoff, roll her eyes, and shout, “UGH! ENOUGH ALREADY!” Her voice thunders around the chamber, silencing the defendant and prosecutor at once. In his throne, Neuvillette opens his mouth to scold, but she is already springing out of her chair. “I��ve seen these trials a thousand times already. No matter what the verdict is, a grudge will be born. How boring!” With a swish of her skirt, the Archon spins on her toes to you, who has already dutifully risen to your feet. “Come along, my dear equerry. This trial has served as a suitable bedtime story.”

“As you wish, Lady Furina.” 

The sudden transition from the warm, near stuffy heat of the Opera Epiclese to the chilled breeze in the courtyard makes Furina shiver, but she waltzes down the steps with determination while you keep pace. With everyone still inside, only the rush of the surrounding waterfalls breaks the silence. It is when you join her at the base of the Fountain of Lucine do you finally clear your throat. 

“Was that trial truly so boring, Lady Furina?” you ask. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” 

Furina scoffs and waves a hand before returning to rubbing her arms. “What enjoyment you must have seen was my anger. All that back-and-forth, spitting the same vitriol and baseless accusations? How trivial.” Her teeth are beginning to chatter, and she takes a deep, cold breath before huffing, “And you looked ready to explode if you sat there a moment longer.” Her cheeks warm from the admittance, but she puffs up further to glare at you. “You should be thanking me, really.” 

You lift a brow, but that familiar, one-sided little smile finally breaks across your face, and you dramatically bow to her. “Ah, yes. Forgive me for not thanking you sooner, my Archon. How may I better express my gratitude?”

Furina rolls her eyes, but she still holds out her hand. “Your coat?” 

Your scent envelops her, your warmth a blissful shield from the cold as you wrap the coat around her shoulders. Though you wear another long-sleeve underneath, Furina opts to hurry you along to the station under the excuse of truly being tired. It is still blissfully empty due to the trial, and as the Melusine activates the rudders, you sit to the Archon’s left, just far enough for her to mourn the distance. She wonders if she can risk scooting into your side, but when she eyes your face, she finds you staring into the distance. 

“That trial must have really gotten to you, huh,” she finds herself saying. Apparently, she doesn’t say it soft enough, because you look at her in surprise. She flushes. “I-I just mean, it’s quite rare to see you so unsettled.”

You nod slowly and…well, Furina braces herself for some form of witty retort. The fact that you just return to staring makes her check the sky for thunder. 

The skies are clear. The world must not be ending just yet. 

Furina sits up and settles into her more authoritative tone. “Then it is only natural that I, Furina de Fontaine, offer an ear to soothe your worries. Tell me, my dear equerry, what is troubling you so?” 

Your lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile gracing your face as you chuckle. “It truly is nothing, my lady. I am just exhausted from having to sit through such a terrible trial.”

Ah. She recognizes that tone. Unfortunately, you have no physical injuries that she can force you into looking after, nor does it feel right to pry for information when there is another stranger present, even if it is only a Melusine. Perhaps if a door had been in the way, just like before when you had come to check on her…Furina purses her lips and harrumps. She really should consider that offer to build a confessional in the Palais Mermonia. Maybe then you’d finally feel okay with expressing your worries. 

Still, she has learned one weakness of yours, and with you so distracted, Furina scuttles close to your side and sets a hand in your hair. You tense for only a second. As she begins to fuss with your hair, you sink into her palm and allow better access to your head. 

After you are dismissed for the night, though, Furina’s mind returns to the earlier trial. It will take some time for a report to be processed by the clerks, but she doesn’t bother waiting. The second Neuvillette is in his office, she comes strolling right in with her head held high.

“Oh?” Neuvillette looks up from his papers with surprise. “Good morning, Lady Furina. I did not realize you could be up this early.”

Furina nearly trips over herself in her haste to glare at the Iudex. “I am perfectly capable of rising when the occasion calls for it!” Granted, the last time she had, she ended up promoting you to make up for the mess it caused. But that isn’t important! “I am here to ask you some questions about my precious equerry.”

Neuvillette blinks and slowly sets the paper aside. “Are you rescinding their promotion?”

“What? No!” Furina casually pushes aside the stack of paperwork as tall as your broadsword is wide and perches on his desk. “I was just curious about why you decided to hire them. I imagine such an important title demanded much effort to find a suitable candidate.”

Neuvillette’s expression barely changes as he picks the paper back up. “No, quite the opposite.”

Furina’s puffed chest deflates as she gawks at him. “W-What?” 

“They were the only candidate I had in mind when considering a personal bodyguard for you,” he continues casually, eyes flicking across his report. “Much of the effort came from processing the correct paperwork.” 

…huh? You were the only candidate? She knows you had quite the reputation garnered by your fearsome strength, but had that been enough to catch Neuvillette’s attention? Surely not. There had to be more than that. When she asks as much, Neuvillette just looks up through his lashes and sighs.

“There is, but considering the time,” he says while setting his report atop of the mountain of papers to Furina’s right, “I doubt I will be able to provide you the attention you desire. Would their profile suffice?”

Your profile? Furina bites her tongues in hopes of stopping her flush. Of course! How could she forget? As Archon, she has direct access to all sorts of private information, and those who work directly for the Fontainian government waive their right to privacy the day they start working. 

“Tch, of course I know that,” she huffs as Neuvillette hunts down your records in his shelves. “I was hoping you’d indulge me with your company. You’ve been so busy!”

“And you have your equerry for this reason.” Neuvillette sets an oddly thin folder beside Furina before scooping up the stack of papers next. “Leave the folder on my desk when you are done. I will put it away when I return.”

Now alone in his office, Furina takes a shaky, grounding breath. Your name is scrawled in dried ink on the tab, fanciful curls and sharp lines. Neuvillette must have noted it himself. She is greeted with a basic profile when she opens the file: name, age, date of birth, and current occupation. Medical and mental history demark no outstanding concerns, and your service to Fontaine is met with glowing reviews. 

Then she reaches your family history and finds a single line that repeats over and over in her head. 

‘ Trained by Vautrin and Carole, referred to as Master and Sister. ’ That’s it. No mention of a mother or father. 

Still, she knows those names. How could she not? The former Captain of the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol who murdered five Fontanian elites after they had driven the Medal of Honor recipient Melusine to suicide to repent for a crime she did not commit. It’d been an exhilarating trial that brought tears to her eyes when Vautrin had screamed and cursed Neuvillette for his impartiality. 

She didn’t bother to look any deeper into it once the verdict had passed. She didn’t feel the need to back then. Now, she has the student of Vautrin and Carole as her equerry and feels guilt bubble in her throat. How terrible must that feel, to attend to the every need of the Archon that represents the system that took away your only Master and Sister?

No wonder you had felt so uncomfortable during last night’s trial. Two sides of the scale are stained with blood, just like before. 

Furina’s fingers curl, curiosity staining her thoughts like ink dropped in water. This specific folder had been Neuvillette’s personal report on you for the onboarding process, but there was bound to be more elsewhere in the Palais Mermonia about your family, especially if you’re an orphan. Granted, the foster care system isn’t…perfect, but part of onboarding included a complete background check, family history included. Why wouldn’t Neuvillette include that in this file? 

Though…why should it matter? She understands now why you’d been so upset over the case. She has no excuse to pry any deeper. 

And yet she finds herself strutting back into the office, poking her head behind the front desk. The fresh-faced Melusine that Neuvillette had hired to man the front is already working away, reorganizing the desk the last clerk had ruined in protest of being ‘replaced’. Furina doesn’t actually remember her name, but she is as sweet and caring as any other Melusine, so Furina feels no fear when she hands over the proper form to request a person’s family records. 

The Melusine just cocks her head and says, “My apologies, Lady Furina, but those are classified.”

“Aha.” Furina’s smile twitches. “Excuse me?” 

“Classified.” The Melusine slips the form back to her with a grimace. “It is very sensitive information, so if you truly need to view it, it may be best to ask him directly.”

“Ask who what?” 

Furina denies yelping when you speak up from the opposite side of the counter, but she does whirl around too quickly to look anything other than suspicious. “I-Hah-Wha-What are you doing here so early?!”

“I…believe I should be asking you that question, my lady. I am normally here to prepare breakfast,” you say, brow lifting. “I assume you are getting a headstart on today’s tasks?” 

Very unlike you, Furina mentally finishes for you. She smoothes out her uniform and lifts her head. “There are times where even I must lend myself to my people, no? Besides, I was only looking for some files.” 

You hum and walk around the desk. “Then return to your room, my lady. I will fetch whatever you need.”

Furina flushes, grabbing your wrist just as you pick up the request form. “W-Wait-” 

Her protest goes unheard. Your face goes unnaturally blank as the Melusine says, “Worry not, sister.” She reaches over to pat your hand. “I have already told Lady Furina that they are classified.”

Furina stares at your face, pulse climbing the longer you remain silent. Frantically, her mind begins to prattle off excuses: she is the Archon, she is your boss, she has every right to know your secrets! In the other, broken, fragmented mind that hides in the darkness of her bedroom, she begs for forgiveness: she just wanted to help, she wants to know you, she wants what she can never reciprocate. How selfish. How selfish!

Your silence finally breaks with a soft sigh, eyes falling shut. When they open, you look as calm and composed as you always do, nodding to the Melusine. “Thank you, Sedene, I appreciate that. I will continue preparations for breakfast, then.” You squeeze Furina’s hand and pry it from your wrist, then nod once more. “Please excuse me.” 

It is the most polite Furina has ever heard you, and as you disappear up the lift to her floor, her vision begins to blur.

“L-Lady Furina?” Sedene gasps. “You’re crying!” 

Furina blinks through her tears, finger numb as she brushes it away. “Ah, n-no, no. My body must be reacting to a truly dreadful prayer at the Fountain of Lucine. Someone must be in…terrible pain.” 

Sedene tutts and grabs the request for your family documents, crumpling it in her palms. “How awful.”

Yes, Furina thinks as she chases after you. How awful indeed.