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chlorinecake · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 — a yandere jungwon fanfic

𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jungwon forbid you from leaving the safe room while he was away at work, but your insatiable curiosities led you to discover secrets about his past that were better left unknown to you ~

𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nudity, forced-ish kissing and touching, hickeys (?), abduction themes, swearing, mentions of guns and violence, slow burn, angst, not proofread ~

𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k ~ Previously and the next part

✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised.

YOU LAID YOUR head down beside Jungwon to rest, your ears still ringing as a side effect from his earlier and repetitive gunfire.

Cradling the shotgun in his hands, you thought back to the way his feline eyes keened in on his desired target, the weapon going off with sharp bangs as the surrounding air shattered with its force.

Your entire skull trembled each time he fired the trigger, wooden debris flying from the collisions.

“Wanna give it a go?,” he asked with the faintest smirk on his face, somewhat amused by your startled demeanor.

Jungwon helped you position your legs according to proper form, almost hugging you from behind as he helped you support the heavy weapon in your arms. His warm breath feathered against your skin as he whispered, “Once you've locked in your target, ease your finger into the trigger and shoot.”

You remember taking a deep breath, pointing the lens at a tall wooden plank just as a baby blue bird flew into frame, the gun's red light highlighting the creature's tiny body.

You tried moving the weapon away, but Jungwon's strength persisted around you, keeping your arms in place with ease.

“Jungwon,” you said so quietly that he almost missed it, his hold on you being predatory enough to make you feel like the prey. A glint of moisture blurred your vision as the song bird tweeted softly to itself, looking right back at you.

“I want you to shoot it, ____,” he whispered in a dull voice as if what he'd just asked of you was completely normal.

“Jungwon, I... no, I... I can't,” you pleaded, his grip on you tightening.

“It'll probably die tomorrow in this weather, love. If you can't shoot a bird, how can I expect you to protect yourself when I'm gone?,” he reasoned with you before stepping away from you, the sun hiding shyly behind a cluster of clouds as if it were also fearful of the sight to come.

“Do it,” was the last sentence you heard right before the loudest gunshot yet clashed with the calm atmosphere, your eyes shutting completely tight as you felt your finger sink into the trigger, the little bird and his evening song never to be heard again.

You felt Jungwon's hands sneak around your waist as you laid under the covers, his warmth still radiating onto you as he spoke the words, “I'm so proud of you today, love,” and drifting fast to sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING came by quickly, the now recognizable scent of mixed herbs hitting your senses the moment you sat up on the bed.

Turning to your side, a cup of tea sat on the nightstand, a dainty yet old-fashioned brown paper bag sitting beside it.

“That's your breakfast, my love,” Jungwon said, breaking the silence. “I decided to stop by the café earlier and get some of those sandwiches you like. Hopefully they're still fresh,” he said from the corner of the room as he adjusted the collar of his freshly ironed shirt, admiring how sweet you looked upon waking up in his heart.

“Thank you, Jungwon, I really appreciate it,” you said with an almost natural smile, reaching for the cup of tea to take a small sip, “Is that why you got all dressed up?”

“No, actually... I have work today.”

Even though you and Jungwon had grown close with each other before took you to his garden, your prior conversations never answered the big question of what he did for a living.

“Oh... I understand that you've never told me this before, but I'm curious about what you do for work?,” you asked, looking into the warm and foggy green liquid that danced in your cup. He wasn't looking at you anymore anyway, so there wasn't a problem with you avoiding eye contact.

“Nice try, ____, but we made a deal yesterday, remember? No more questions till next week,” he smiled, finally looking your way now as he walked over to you, giving you a small hug. “I'll be back in a few hours, but you can always look out the window and do the 'sun test' I taught you. There's also lunch in the first drawer if you get hungry.”

He grabbed a chain connected to a set of keys from off the nightstand that you didn't even notice were there til now, his leather boots clicking with his footsteps as he walked away, looking back as if saying goodbye with his eyes before closing the door.

And just like that, you were completely alone, which didn't feel or seem as relieving as you wished it would.

It's not that you felt down about missing Jungwon's presence, though, it was more so that you knew today would be much longer than any other day you've spent on this secluded garden of secrets.

Even longer than the days you had spent outside under a bush, your vulnerable nakedness and the harsh forest conditions growing a stronger bond than your thirsted gums and grimy teeth.

Of all the things you had to be anxious about under such circumstances, “boredom” happened to be at the top of your list, compelling your hands to find the silver key Jungwon had so carelessly forgotten on the nightstand before he left.

Or was he testing me, you thought to yourself, observing the green string that hung from a hook in one of the key loop's.

The thought of the mysterious greenhouse suddenly dawned on you, and the memory of its glassy sage exterior captivated your mind for a second.

You remembered Jungwon's anxious demeanor as you brought it up to him, contemplating with your own logic and curiosity as to whether or not you'd give in to the voice that was pulling your feet to do the unthinkable.

The gravely forbidden.

You only had enough will power to fight the urges for a short hour before it became too much, your feet finding the cold bedroom floor as you held the key in your hand, wandering down the hallway and through the field of trees before making your way up the massive path that led to a grassy hill.

Precisely where the greenhouse sat.

Deep down in your foolish heart, you were fully aware of how senseless your actions were.

Even though you were currently suspect to many natural dangers that came with being in the wilderness whilst unarmed, the thought of Jungwon catching you right now was an even larger threat.

But somehow, you managed to climb up too far to turn back now.

Praying on the slim sliver of hope that Jungwon wouldn't come back early today, you took a deep breath, toying with the key in the lock for a few seconds before the door hinges gave in, the cold aura of the space greeting you as you stepped in to observe.

From first glance, it was an ordinary greenhouse, shelves of exotic plants lining most of the space and the gentle sun rays peeking through the domed ceiling.

Clink.

So stunned by the beauty of his indoor garden, your hip accidentally bumped into the mini wooden table standing beside a feminine mannequin, a black ink pen having fell on the floor and rolling away before you swiftly leaned down to pick it up.

You felt your heart thump in your chest like a drum, thinking of how easily that single pen could’ve given away that you’d been in here today.

Getting up, you went to place it back on the table before noticing a rough sketch tucked beneath a diary with Jungwon’s name engraved on it in hangul.

The sketch was of a dress, one ordained with elegant floral accents and delicate lace trimmings.

“Every flower ought to have petals,” whispered Jungwon’s voice in the back of your mind, warming your heart before sending shivers down your spine.

He was truly in love with you.

Dangerously, even.

You picked up the journal, not even considering what better-left-buried secrets could be hiding behind the black leather cover front.

Not even reasoning with logic anymore as you flipped past the first page, the sound of stiff, old paper crinkling the still silence.

And for the love of your damned curiosity.

Nothing intrigued you from the first few pages so you foolishly kept flipping, one by one until it became obvious that the diary was filled with unspoken love confessions you weren't meant to see, dated as far back as two years ago.

One entry in particular caught your attention, the opening line from April 11, last year, reading “Things weren't supposed to end this way.”

It appeared to be a letter to Jungwon himself, but at the same time, to another soul...

Or about another lover.

Your breath stalled in your chest, almost in denial of how quickly a new and much more horrific story was unfolding concerning the charming Yang Jungwon.

Your eyes scanned one last line before closing the diary, the note being from his most recent entry:

“To ____, my second chance... may we blossom harmoniously together.”

A series of numbers followed after that sentence, a red splotch of paint dotting a log of information you didn't quite understand at the time but the eery feeling you got was enough to let you know it couldn't have meant anything good.

Slam.

You closed the book, just as the sunlight outside began to dim with your emotions, the realization of how deep Jungwon's insanity ran wandering through your anxious mind, flowing as a dead river in a forsaken village, infecting every person foolish enough to come and drink of his stream.

You stumbled out of the greenhouse, running down the hill with your nightgown clutched in your fists, careful not to let the lower hem of your dress touch the earthy ground on your way.

Jungwon couldn't find out about this.

He couldn't know that you knew everything now.

You stopped to glance at the sun, noticing how it was just a few inches from meeting the peak between the two trees as he'd demonstrated to you before.

He was almost home, and it was beyond baffling that you'd even started to call this place that.

A home.

You finally made it back to the shed, your own lungs struggling to provide enough oxygen to fuel your limbs as you chugged the tea you'd forgotten to drink, plopping yourself on the bed with your hands holding your chest as the mere act of breathing became harder and harder.

Closing your eyes, you hoped that the darkness would somehow help you think of anything.

Anything else but the truth.

Whoever that girl was, you were certain that he'd killed her, and if you weren't careful moving forward, you could be next.

JUNGWON RETURNED FROM work on time, but it wasn't until about half an hour later that he made his way to your shared bedroom in the shed, an unreadable yet unmistakably dark look on his face the moment he saw you.

“How many more conversations must we have before my rules finally stick in your stupid little brain?” He asked in a stern voice, still wearing his work clothes, but his hair appeared different.

More disheveled... and sweaty.

“Jungwon, you just got back... Where is all of this coming from?” You inquired in the most polite voice you could muster, sitting up on the bed as your stomach felt five seconds from exploding.

Your mind was still a bit foggy because you'd just woke up, but you were still present enough to know you needed to choose your words wisely.

Did he found out? No, he couldn't have, you were barely even in there long enough to have messed up anything he'd notice.

“I need you to understand something, ____,” he said in a sharp voice, sitting beside you on the bed before continuing, “As long as you’re here with me, you’re no longer your own person. You’re mine. And that means no one else can have you. Not even yourself.”

“Jungwon, we talked about this-”

“And I agreed on one thing and one thing only… do you remember what that thing was?”

Your hands trembled in your lap as his words came out like darts, your mind too focused on fear to even keep up, “You’re not being fair-”

“Is it not beyond fair that I respect your wishes of keeping my hands to myself? Despite how crazy you make me feel?”

“I remember…. Wonie, and I appreciate your efforts to respect me,” you answered with a cracked voice as he caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“And so do I,” he smiled, tilting his head at you, “but... you’re still afraid of me... aren’t you?”

You knew that Jungwon could be emotionally ambivalent at times, but you really couldn't figure out what had gotten into him today, and so suddenly.

You shook your head at his words, “Why would you even ask me something like that?”

“Because it’s true… I'm smart enough to know that.”

“Jungwon, please don't say tha-”

“God, here we go with your whining again,” he spat bitterly while shaking his head, “you’re pleading with me and I haven’t even threatened you... Just admit it! You’re fucking terrified of me-”

“I can't take this shit right now, Jungwon,” you interrupted him, immediately feeling your heart rate increase as you startled yourself with your own words.

Your own... honesty.

“I... I just… I didn’t mean to…,” you tried apologizing before he cut you off.

“No,” he said softly, getting off of the bed and kneeling before you, your words having touched a soft spot in his crooked mind, “Don’t stop, love... I want to hear what you have to say…”

Though, you’re not sure if the smile he wore was forced or not, it helped to soothe your nerves in an odd way. Jungwon’s behavior was always erratic like this. You never knew when to expect a switch in him, which is what always kept you on edge around him.

His hands massaged your ankles, the gentle yet sudden touches making you feel stiff.

“Please,” he nodded, coaxing you to proceed, despite how uncomfortably you felt with him touching you.

“Well… uhm… I was just…. I thought we were working on this... On us...,” you clarified, “...together.”

His heart lit up at your use of the word “us” as if it were a spark to the dull wick in his hardened heart.

“And we are, my love. But I must ask you to understand that you abide by my rules now,” he whispered, hands carefully inching up your calves as his thumbs drew circles in your skin, “can you trust my rules?”

You gulped at the question, fingers fumbling with each other as you forced yourself to say what he had to hear.

“I can try, Jungwon...”

“Good… and can you trust me?... Without trying?” He asked, hands halting their movements while awaiting your response.

“I…” your words got cut in your throat, part of you drifting off into a thinking that you actually could trust Jungwon. You felt like a foreign force was pressuring you to agree. Not his hands from the outside of you, but something within.

Was it the way he sat before you on his knees? The way his feline eyes stared back at yours, singing a sirenic song to your heart? Was it something in the tea you finished earlier-

“Speak up, love,” He pressed, somehow maintaining patience with you.

“I can… I trust you,” you said, looking in your lap before meeting his eyes again, which glimmered like honey.

Natures fluorescent sweetness.

“Then… can you trust me to kiss you?” He asked, voice almost inaudible given how quietly he spoke. Before you even gave an answer, you felt his warm breath ghost over your knee, looking back at you with seduction in his eyes.

He hummed in satisfaction at your submission, sealing the space between him and your knee with a kiss, his lips soft and wet as you felt the kisses travel, your gown being lifted up over your thighs as he left pecks along the inside of them, sucking slightly as if to taste you.

Your hands found his head, trying to push him away as his kisses turned into pinches, but he pushed your abdomen down, your back meeting the bed as his hands hooked beneath your knees, spreading you open for him.

“Wonie~,” you whined out, arching your back as you felt his warmth approach your clothed core, his lips kissing your sensitive spot before you whined out again. “That’s enough, please,” you said with an exhausted breath, chest heaving with emotions you couldn't even put a finger on.

He looked up to you, face embarrassingly flushed as his lustful demeanor softened into a smile, “Was I not good for you, love?”

“No, it was fine, Jungwon, I just… I had enough,” you answered with a breathy voice, the wetness from his lips still ever-present on your skin as you struggled to look him in the eye.

His sexual advances were starting to escalate by the day, and it was only a matter of time before he took the very last thing he treasured about you most:

Your purity.

“Okay, my love,” he said, pulling your gown back down and standing up, “maybe next time I can do better than fine.”

Fuck.

You simply nodded at his words, trying to calm your breathing as your cheeks grew as hot as the sun. Jungwon walked towards the door, looking back at you one last time.

“And by the way, next time you try sneaking out while I'm gone without my permission, make sure to lock the door back so I don't find out,” he said, all of that with a devious smile on his face as he closed the door, leaving you alone before going off to prepare your dinner a few rooms away from you.

☆ Thank you all so much for reading this piece! I still feel really guilty about taking so long with this update, but hopefully y'all enjoyed it !!

☆ taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @nikisdubblchococake @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies @guessm0del (still didn't forget abt that collab you wanted to do if you're still interested btw) @ayadikreino @destairea @jakehooni @jjungwonss @nikilvr @jays-property @moonchus @angelicjungwon @wonniesdoll @rosiemiayyxy @rinirumi @noviadebeomgyu @pochacco-o @hapeynaaa @ikngh @maspire @mamuljji @hnnhj @legendarycowboywinnerlawyer @enhypenlovre @stxrboyjae @f4irynono @03sunoos @itwasrem @laurradoesloveu @lalalalovelalalasworld @honestimage @ro-0327 @stwberrykooki @heelvrr @wonbinisbabygurl @jungwonloveer @jungwonsmybf @kayoiw @lovelycassy @mrswolfhard3

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hirschkuh-traumvoll · 2 months ago

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-- ★ - 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 - ★ --

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎��𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛

the plot is: after riding with alastor some of new travellers arrive at the inn. does alastor know them? and what is this ritual he's talking about? does he even know what the most you long for is life without prohibitions?

part one, part two, part three, part four

words ≈ 12k (it might be the longest one)

warnings/tags: horse riding, biting in kissing, alastor uses magic and inclines you to make a ritual, starvation, a small religion reference or kinda, p in v smut, cunnilingus, self tasting (?), talking during a fuck, doggy style, creampie.

let me know if i missed anything

author's note: yes, i know it's very bad when two people ride a horse together, like there's no enough space in the saddle, and also the BaLanCe. but! But! i want to romanticize, honestly. and actually this horse is big as fuck, cheval is strong and has a big saddle on him! And! Alastor uses magic! so no complaints! it's only a fiction.

ミ˙˚☆˙. ⋆ ☼ ⋆ .˙☆˚˙彡

Your late visit was something Alastor couldn't get out of his head. This episode stuck in his mind like a haunting melody, but he didn't want to make it stop, he wanted to listen to it again and again, to sing this melody aloud with you. The memory of your voice, your breath was still vivid in his ears and on his skin. But what haunted him most was your look. Dark, obstinate, starving. It was an ogle.

You were looking at him with a dark expression, full of unspoken desire, and at some point Alastor began to believe the night itself was caught in your eyes. And then, when you so easily enervated him, pushed him to the edge of the temptation but never gave in yourself, what else could he believe in but you as some kind of a nocturnal goddess? That was he saw you like: the one who belonged to the darkness and whom the night belonged to. You were fascinating and you were dangerous, luring him in and frightening with the emotions you awoke in him; your words and gaze were merciless but your whisper and tears told him you were seeking for mercy too. For sure he could yield, but there was no fun in it. Not now. There could be more, so much more. He knew he could receive even more than you wanted to give him last night. It could be wilder, darker, tastier. So he didn't give you all at once, only a promise, a real promise, for upcoming mercy.

And he was giving it to you today.

Alastor went downstairs. The bartender was at the same place he fell asleep last night. With a loud clap of his hands, Alastor propped himself against the counter, so the glasses and plates left from yesterday clattered against the wooden desk. The bartender shook his head, awakening, but before first curses could fell from his lips, he was interrupted by a cheerful loud voice,

“Good morning, my good fellow!”

Red eyes of the sot peered at the disturber from under the frown, and his eyebrows flew high as he realised who was in front of him. The Smiling Demon himself propped his head against his hand, looking at him with a polite but too wide smile. A hint of danger smouldered in these bloody red eyes.

“I have a little task for you.” Alastor purred, handing a handwritten note over the desk.

Bartender stared at the note slowly sliding to him under the leathered palm of the outlaw in growing surprise.

“Give it to the little mistress of the inn.”

Silence.

“Understood?” The danger gleaming in his look now sounded clearly in his voice. Bartender quickly nodded.

Mr. Vide made it sternly clear to him that you could not receive any gifts and notes, any shows of affection, any courtes, anything from the residents. And Mr. Vide reminded him of this right away as Alastor had come to the inn. This sharp smiling man was the most forbidden fruit for you, and unfortunately, the one you could never feast enough. Everybody in the inn knew or at least guessed what you thought about Alastor, and absolutely everyone knew what he thought of you — his hungry eyes were too significant. He, Bartender, was told to keep his eye on you, to make you somehow stay away from the Dealmaker, but… He never really thought you would be so stupid to throw yourself into these clawed hands, and he never thought that the infamous man would be persistent enough towards you. After all, everybody knew that the man was interested only in increasing his already terrifying power and torturing poor souls (and cannibalising as it was rumoured). It was common knowledge, the Smiling Demon had no heart for a human being, for a woman. And nevertheless his intense gaze was fixed only on you everytime you entered a room. And now he even handed him a note, by the quick look at which Bartender knew it was an invitation somewhere. He had to decline, but who was he? Only a man, a sop with shaking knees under the burning glare of the greatest outlaw.

“You make it secretly.” The Demon whispered with a sly smile which parted his face like a slit. How could you even look at him?

Bartender nodded, hiding the note into his pocket.

“Wonderful!” With this joyful exclamation the Smiling Demon vanished from Bartender’s eyes, leaving him wondering if this all wasn't just a delirium, but the hard piece of paper inside his vest was the acknowledgement that this little deal was very real. And for what..?

ミ ☼ 彡

Although another group of travellers had just left, it wasn't peaceful in the house, because one of the minions of that mister with the strangest snake-like name you just couldn't remember by all means brought chaos during the preparations of his master. Not a big one, but still rather unpleasant. But what was more unpleasant than cleaning up the mess was that your father blamed not the master of the little troublemaker for failing to keep an eye on him, but you. Although then he helped to establish order. It left you wondering. Perhaps his blaming was too hasty, but you would really prefer to hear his apologies than to see them; after all it was a nice opportunity for him for the first time to say “I'm sorry”.

But the resentment didn't occupy your whole mind as in last evening. What your mind was haunted by was the night conversation with Alastor. His promise to ride with you wasn't just hollow words, he did actually agreed to ride with you tonight! And you were so happy. You couldn't wait to feel the wind in your hair, to feel the speed, to feel these daps in the horse saddle. And most of all you couldn't wait to stay alone with Alastor. Completely alone. You still saw in front of you his beautiful eyes gleaming as rubies in the sun, looking deeply into your soul as if testing how bold you could be, how long you could bear his penetrating as a spear look. And his smile, spreading across his face when he was satisfied with your recklessness... You always had a feeling he could read your mind, so you never turned away, letting him know. And when he smiled back like that, darkly and sinisterly, you couldn't help feeling pride in yourself: this sinful man, you so hastily had taken for a model, reveled in your state of mind.

And that happened last night. Not only in his eyes you could see what you were doing to him, but also by his body language. It was the first time you both were so close to each other, and you still felt his uneven breath over you, the warmth of his large body towering and trembling over you. Oh, you could never forget this moment, when he cupped your wet with tears cheek, how he tenderly brushed your hair, and how he growled in frustration at the necessity of letting you go. For the first time you felt wanted. And you bit on your lip, imagining what could happen if Alastor had less self-control.

Luckily for you the day flew strangely quickly: here your father and you had done with the mess, here Sir Pentious and his minions had left the inn, here was the scent of cooking dinner from the kitchen. You looked in the window and the sound of the growling whisper echoed in your ears.

“At sunset. How do you like it?”

Oh, you liked it very much. This whole day you had been living only to end it.

“Er, Miss Vide!” You heard a loud whisper behind your back. Turning around you saw Bartender secretly waving at you. You put aside the broom and came up to him. It wasn't usual for you to chat with him, you hated the smell of last night’s alcohol and besides you simply found this man pathetic. But on the other hand you never hated him. He was like an old sick dog, useless and harmless, even some kind of a friend sometimes.

As you came up to Bartender he quickly pushed you a note over the counter. You looked at it with a frown, and the next second Bartender exclaimed the name of your father, who had just come inside. As Bartender diverted your father to the kitchen, discussing the unexpected running out of liquor in the bar, you read the short message.

By the hayloft

as the sun shines gold

These two lines and a capital letter were enough to make you take a deep breath so as not to cry out with joy and to hurry up to your room to change.

ミ ☼ 彡

Somehow Bartender managed to keep your father long enough for you to slip off unnoticed. The sky had changed its colour into a deep hue of orange; the land seemed blessed under the golden rays of the sun, if not only those bloody red clouds on the horizon, which hung over the horizon as a dark omen.

By the hayloft stood Alastor holding his stallion by the reins. Over his shirt Alastor wore a poncho of different shades of red with black pinstripes repeating the angle of the cut of his collar. He brought his hat at the back of his head, and the sun shone over his face, giving an attractive shine on his tanned skin. You smiled at him, approaching, and he returned the smile. You were a beautiful apparition for him as well. Your lovely straw hat, tied up with the thin red ribbons under your chin, sat pretty on you, just as the simple cotton shirt with short sleeves tucked in the high waisted and loose breeches. He couldn't help admiring how soft looked your bare arms with short velvet gloves tightening your palms. You also seemed a tad higher in your shabby cowboy boots. Alastor noticed that the way you walked had changed as well: your shoulders were relaxed, and you let your hands, which you usually kept close to your body, slightly wave side to side as you were stepping lightly towards him until you stopped. Though the boots gave you two extra inches to your height you still were a head lower than him.

“Well?” You asked, tilting your head.

Alastor took your hand and led you to Cheval. By the way your fingers firmly seized his palm he realised that you were a tad scared of the horse, though your expression was resolute. No wonder, Cheval was twice taller than you. If not even more…

“Don't be scared, sugar, he doesn't bite. Well, unless I ask him to.” Alastor chuckled, and Cheval snorted as if agreeing with his master.

Alastor propped you up against your waist as you placed your left feet in the stirrup and raised your right leg to get up. But your right hand slid down from the saddle you were holding onto before you even had a chance to lift yourself up, so immediately you fell back, bumping with your back against Alastor's shoulder and appearing in his arms.

“Oh, easy, cher!” He said with a chuckle, catching you in your fall.

You didn't say anything, picturing the best way to saddle the tremendous horse with the second attempt.

“One more time?” Alastor asked closely to your ear, and as you nodded he helped you to get up, propping you firmly by your hips and, as you bent over the horse and seemed too scared to move further, gave you a couple of slight slaps on your bottom,

“Up, up!”

This gesture was unexpected enough to make you quickly climb on the saddle and cast a glare down at Aalstor. He only laughed at the evil look on your blushed face and easily got up, appearing behind you and somehow stealing your breath with it. You wondered how the saddle could take you two, but you were not squashed at all. Perhaps it was another magic trick of Alastor, you'd got used to them by now. It was usual for him to boast, snapping his fingers to conjure a new bottle of rye, to leaf the pages of your book to draw your attention, to light up a cigarette etc. The first trick bemused you (with a smirk he had snapped his fingers when you had dropped a glass he'd held you, and all the shatters at your feet dissolved just as a stain of wine on your dress), to the second one you were ready, so now you were waiting with anticipation for all the future tricks.

Alastor carefully took the reins from your hands and tapped Cheval’s side, signaling him to move. Before there could be taken a faster gait, you changed your position, sitting sideways on the saddle and wrapping your hands around Alastor, squeezing the soft wool of his poncho, your left hand on his shoulders and your right one on his chest.

The ride had started, and you couldn’t help smiling, feeling the slight jiggle back and forward.

Alastor peered his gaze forward and you remained looking at him. Including the previous night it wasn't the first time you were so close, but it was dark then and now all his beautiful features were lit up. He had very long eyelashes matching the colour of his dark hair shimmering bloody red in the fading sunshine; his eyelids were of a darker shade than his face, as if he spent nights sleepless; his eyes, which always hypnotised you, now look incredibly soft in the golden sunrays and you noticed he indeed had thin pupils of a predator; his lips were thin and dry, curled in a self-centered smile. At times he cast a look down at you, but you didn't stop staring at him though your grip on his clothes grew tighter, and then with a smirk he returned his gaze back to the landscape. And only then you dared to let out a sight. He was handsome. Too damn handsome.

You looked back over Alastor's shoulder, estimating how far you had gone. The setting sun blinded you, but you could discern how quickly the house was diminishing as Alastor was driving you farther. And as you turned your gaze back to the desert outstretching in front of you, you suddenly realised something.

“Where are we going?” You asked, bringing yourself closer to him, and your lips accidentally brushed against his ear. Alastor hid his swallowing behind a wide smile, pointing out something provocative,

“Do you care, sugar?”

And now you realised that you didn't care. Alastor could ride you whenever he wanted, and you wouldn't complain. Right now he was carrying you far from your home, somewhere into the desert, and you didn't care. You knew he wouldn't do it, he wouldn't kidnap you, but… If he would… You wouldn't regret the night you came to him with the bold demand.

Suddenly you felt his hand on the lower of your back, propping you and pushing closer to him — you hadn't noticed that sinking in your thoughts you loosened your grip on him.

“Keep on tighter.” He said in a low voice, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. You felt with your chest how deep was the sigh he exhaled.

Like that, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck and his thighs grazing your hips in the saddle, you rode up to a lake. It was pleasant to have something not sandy outstretching before your eyes. The setting sun barely grazed the silver expanse with its rays, and the waters seemed almost black. The gentle breeze fanned your face, and you smiled; you dreamily viewed the long forgotten landscape, and Alastor felt you loosening your embrace, lowering your hands down his chest.

“Have you been here before?” He softly asked.

“As a little child. I didn't even remember until now.” Several short episodes swam before inner vision. Some warm, lovely little mementos from childhood.

Alastor looked with adoration at your shy smile and flush.

“I bet you were here with Artemis.” His words were warm and due to a smile you heard in his state you were sure he was sympathetic.

“Yes.”

You leaned yourself against him completely, peering into the hypnotic waters; large arms closed around you, and for a while you stayed like this, in the warm, gentle embrace. You were away now with your thoughts consuming you, but Alastor's mind was occupied only with this very moment. He rested his chin on the crown of your head, held his palms around your belly, he was enjoying the closeness, but never forgetting why he had brought you here. He only guessed you were actually connected to this place, but now, as you were reminiscing, he just let you do that, for these memories were those you had to bring back to life. You should remember the taste of freedom, start to regret you’d missed it, feel it again.

Suddenly his arms slid from your waist, and he jumped down off the horse. You looked at him with a surprise in your eyes and met a bright smile,

“I think it's your turn to drive the horse.”

You stared at him as if not sure you had heard him right, but when the saddle under you changed and your feet appeared in the stirrups, an enthusiastic smile spread across your face. You knotted the reins, and Cheval tore off the place.

You galloped along the shore so fast as never before, the stallion not only looked infernal he had indeed the hellish speed. Suddenly the wind blew off your hat, streaming the bright ribbons in the air. Only for a moment you let yourself worry about the loss descending onto the black surface of the lake. You directed your eyes forward, narrowing them at the merciless slaps of wind and sand against your face but you couldn't suppress your laughter. Cheval obeyed you as if he was yours and as if you’d never left the saddle. It was a pure delight to hold the reins in your hands again and feel the harsh leaps beneath. As Cheval's hooves fastly bounded against the ground you, for the long time, began to feel assurance, as if every bound forward tightening the grip on the reins also tightened your grip on this life.The world was at your mercy now as you galloped through the waste.

You looked back — no sight of Alastor, though you were sure you hadn't gone so far. You gradually slowed down and stopped. You were looking around when suddenly your vision dissolved — something was roughly placed at the top of your head.

“You've lost it, sugar!”

Your hands found the brims of your hat (not even wet) and adjusted it. Alastor was behind your back, smiling proudly down at you. Your eyes were shining brighter than the sun when you looked at him, you felt his hands pushing into your waist.

“Thank you. You can't imagine how I missed it.”

“You're welcome, my dear.” He lingered his gaze on your face, “Now, let's go home, hm?”

He took the reins from your hands again, and guided Cheval where you had come from.

Was it indeed the home, the place you were coming back?

You tried to remember but it seemed that even in your childhood this wasn’t a place you wanted to stay. That is why you found strange those wanderers who left the inn with regret. You always wanted to run away. As a child, you managed to create the illusion of freedom in galloping with Artemis, until you ended up tied to the place by Father's care as if with a chain; then you escaped with help of books; fabulous worlds and daydreams became your new resort, but it was only an illusion too, and you had nothing on your tongue but the absence of a real taste. These worlds only fueled your hunger. And then appeared he. With Alastor you felt freest of all, for he was the only one who didn't call you ungrateful, who indulged your wild morals, who pushed you into greater and greater temptation. With him you felt freer than ever, with him you were yourself.

Home wasn't a place, but a man.

Cheval was walking slowly, Alastor's chest was pressed to your back, his hand holding the reins rested on your hips. The sun hid behind the hills for a half.

But this man — your home — was a wanderer, too.

You considered all wanderers as people who had lost their homes and were heading for a point of destination which would be a new one. And so you considered Alastor. He was a wanderer. You knew, he wasn't attached to this place anyhow, and as any other wanderer he must leave soon.

But there was a very important detail, which was a quiet whisper in your head, and you tried to listen to it closely. He wouldn't be attached to this place anyhow if not you. He could leave after the first night, he always rested fast just as his horse, but he stayed anyway. Why? Of course because of a lovely lady in the person of you. And a prideful side of you knew this. And it was corroborated with that very night, this very riding, with this closeness. But you knew the nature of every wanderer — sooner or later they leave.

You swallowed before asking,

“Alastor, where's your way? I mean, you've come from somewhere, so you must head for somewhere too.”

You didn't look at him, continuing staring in front of you. The house was just a little spot on the edge of the horizon.

“Nowhere in particular, cher. My way is just an endless hunt.”

“How's that?” You still didn't look at him. Were you afraid of his answers or even your own questions?

He chewed on his lip, weightening the words.

“A man must have a goal, of which his way is formed. But as I'm no human anymore, therefore I have no goal. Only wandering, only hunting to satisfy my hunger.”

“Not a human?” You asked after a short silence, but didn’t hear an answer. You realized it was stupid to avoid his gaze, he knew your feelings anyway, so you looked back at him and didn't take your eyes away as he was talking,

“With all these features and ‘magic tricks’ you’ve witnessed, would you believe me, cher, if I tell you that…” He looked up, finding the accurate words,” I'm not quite of this world, that my hunting involves consuming the flesh and souls that give me the power for all this devilry?”

His red eyes flashed up as he spoke about consuming, and your look dropped to his sharp fangs. You nodded in response,

“I believe you.”

The fear was neither in your look, nor in your voice, and why should it be? You heard the gossip, you had hours of talking to him, you saw him right now. You had accepted his nature long ago. And now you felt even happiness, and not any kind of fright, because you heard the confession of his supernatural nature from his mouth,

“But I have one more question, may I?” As he gladly nodded, you asked, “You said ‘anymore’. Why? Did you make a deal with a devil, or is it a curse, or something?”

“Heavens no!” The exclamation made you twitch. He was named Demon, he looked like a demon and had powers of one, and now he was speaking like that? Alastor laughed at your supposition with amusement. “Hahaha of course not, my dear! It's neither a curse, nor a deal! It's only my work.” He tilted his head in self satisfaction, dropping his eyelids in some dark mood; ruby eyes flashed even brighter. “And after all, I would never sell my soul for anything. Freedom is as important for me as for you. More than anything, if I dare say.”

The statement felt as an offence for some reason, and you pouted,

“Never say never.”

Alastor arched his eyebrow at you but you continued,

“I don't think freedom is the most important thing for me. Not exactly. After all, I don't even believe a person can be absolutely free, there is always something that binds them, at least their morals. I think the most terrifying thing would be to have a tasteless life. But,“ You looked up at Alastor, watching his reaction; the man listened closely, with a fanged-out smile and dropped eyelids, “it wouldn't be enough for me just to taste. Because you see, I taste what I wanna taste, and when I do so it means I like it. And when I like something I want to make it mine. To swallow it. So I wanna do with life — taste and swallow it.”

You fell silent. The inn’s silhouette grew bigger on the horizon, but still was far. The sun hid behind the black hills, dipping the desert in the darkness; only the sky remained of a pinkish red colour.

“I love this spirit! Rather a taboo statement I must say.” He said in a low voice, drawing you closer to his chest. Your heart beat faster against his. The red eyes shone as embers in the thickening darkness, hypnotising you, whilst his voice and words spoke melodiously as a prayer, seemed to be the reason for the faded sun. “Say, what if somebody considers you as a flavour in their life? What if they want to taste you first? To bite you, to eat you?” With every question his face became closer to yours, dangerously close; his lips almost brushed against yours as his voice lowered to a growl, “What if even before parting your lips for a little bite, somebody would open their jaws to swallow you completely?”

You didn't move away, eyes were chained to his mouth,

“Life takes us all, I don't mind it. In this last ride down the throat of somebody I could finally feel something… And I'm starving to feel…”

You couldn’t say anything more — his mouth covered yours in a tenacious kiss. As he did it while you were speaking, his tongue immediately dug into your oral, exploring each side, intertwining with your muscle. You moaned into the kiss and tried to push away, feeling how he was emptying your lungs but he was holding too firmly onto you. It was suffocatingly, carnivorous, and barely was it even a kiss — more like a bite he had been frightening you with and which you were about to accept.

Alastor couldn't resist. He held himself back all this time, and tried to revel just in your happiness, but something snapped in him as you spoke about tasting. Hunger aroused in him like on that night, and again you didn't move away. So now he was devouring your sweet lips, your silk tongue, your frightened moans, every jerk of your body against him. He wasn't gentle at all. When he spoke about flavour he meant it, and if you agreed then you must accept it now.

You threw your head back with a moan as his tongue grazed forward against your palate, but he didn't part from you, his grip on you was tight and impelling you to rub your thighs. Finally when you tasted iron, you gave in completely, and what was a bite turned into a desirous kiss.

He parted his lips just enough for you to take a breath and descended on your lips again. His kiss was stained with your blood, it was wet and messy, but so satisfying. You moaned into his mouth and felt his growl, your hands wandered over his shoulders and neck, while his fists rumpled your clothes.

With a load smack he parted from you and stared into your eyes. You held onto his neck with your palms, trying to catch your breath. Your lips felt completely ruined, but your heart didn't freeze in fear when you noticed blood stains on his lips and fangs, in reverse it beat achingly faster.

“Like this, my sweetness?”

“Like this.”

ミ ☼ 彡

When you were reaching the inn Alastor suddenly exclaimed behind you,

“Oh ho ho! Look who's there!” And galloped forward.

At the inn arrived a man and a lady, their horses were harnessed into a cart with a canvas roof. They both looked in your direction, hearing Alastor's salutation. The man looked flowingly at the one behind you. He was about forty, older than Alastor, with dark hair already touched with silver on his whiskers and a tired scowl beneath his black stetson. He looked terribly worn out just like his clothes, which reminded you of Alastor's style, with the same black and red shades, but less bizarre details, with the exception of his shirt on suspenders with a pattern of card's suit. The young woman on the horse beside him looked, to the contrary, very excited and was smiling. She looked Asiatic and had one eye hidden beneath her fringe. Her clothes were as eccentric as Alastor's: white blood-stained scarf around her thin neck, bright red waistcoat with insect pattern, black tight pants, and leather gloves. She had no guns around her hips, only a dagger in her sheath.

The woman exclaimed Alastor's name and cheerfully waved her hand.

“Meet my devoted servants, sugar!” He waved in their direction? and then addressed to them, “My goodness! I started to believe, you'd got irretrievably lost!”

As you came closer you noticed that the whites of the strangers’ eyes were absolutely black, and their pupils shone golden.

Father came out of the inn and put his hand on his hips with a scowl watching at the cart. He definitely didn't like the baggage of the new guests who, to all appearances, had a relationship with his most unwelcomed resident.

“What's in the cart?” Father asked as Cheval stopped in front of the porch.

“Nothing you should worry about, my good man. I think you can drive it to the stable, Husker.” Aalstor said with a condescending smile, he wore every time communicating with Mr. Vide.

Fathers glare moved from the cart to where you were still sitting — in the saddle with Alastor, whose hands still rested on your hips. You felt others gazes on you. Both the unknown man and woman were staring at you, one with suspicion, the other with amusement.

“And who's this?” The man pointed at you with a claw of his glove. He had a husky and quiet voice, like a leisurely purr.

You suddenly appeared in Alastor's arms and he jumped off the horse with you. He placed you down and laid his hands on your shoulders, introducing you, as if your name contained all the meaning they had to know. Though they became even more confused after this. For one, the whole world was enclosed in the sound of your name, for others, it was merely an empty sound. At least for now.

“Cher, these are Husker and Niffty, as I said before, my dedicated servants.”

Niffty seemed enthusiastic with the acquaintance because after waving her hand at you she jumped off her horse, ran up to you, and grabbed you hands.

“I'm Niffty!” She growled with joy, barring her small but sharp teeth at you.

“Pleasure to be meeting you,” You pronounced, shaking your clasped hands in hers. She giggled and let go of you.

Husker didn't move, only tipped his hat at you.

Suddenly something hit you. It was a thought, shaking the ground under your feet. You didn't hear what Alastor said to Husker and why one was frowning even more and the other was loudly laughing; didn't pay attention to your father, trying to peep into the cart and being shooed by the short woman. You realised, Alastor had never planned to stay here. It was only a wait for his companions. And now, when they were here and even with some kind of a mysterious load, he would start preparing to leave…

Wanderers always leave.

You shook Alastor's palms from your shoulders, causing a surprised look on his face, and entered the inn. You took a couple of keys from the bar and went upstairs.

Alastor entered the room after you, witnessing you making a bed. Your eyes shone but with no happiness, more like on that night, your movements were too wide and harsh, steps were too loud.

“For how long would you let them stay here?” Alastor leaned himself against the door frame, cross armed. You didn't answer, only continued doing your work. As you bent for laying a cover on the mattress, you furtively wiped off near your nose.

“Cher?” He made a step inside.

“Thank you for the riding, for the talks, thank you for this mere taste of freedom.” Your voice sounded deeper as you suppressed your tears. You could stop and think about it all clearly, and you knew this, but you were too afraid of staying alone again. His company became a part of your life, and you were too afraid to go back to your solitude. Just thinking about him leaving you made you shake with anger and fear and taste on the tip of your tongue the bitterness of those lonely sunny days, when you had nobody beside you but yourself. You were angry now, angry that he couldn't stay forever, _or_ that he hadn't kidnapped you when he had an opportunity.

Alastor could read it all in your gestures.

“I'm not leaving, yet, dear.”

“But you will! Oh God. You're leaving.”

You heavily sat down on the mattress, eyes glassy. You were not ready to go back to your life. You really hoped Alastor would take you somewhere, but… You'd never even spoken with him about it. You'd never even told him you wanted to leave. You only led speeches about freedom and taste — what nonsense! He didn't know what exactly you longed for, and now you thought that he could misread your desires and take your pleas as carve for carnal desire. No doubts, you wanted it too, but it wasn't the only thing. You wanted life, and you wanted him in your life. And that was what you would never share with him. And now you felt like a fool. When he misread your message, because you were too nebulous, he could think he'd almost made what was required: he gave you that kiss, and there wasn't much to give to you to finish his work and leave the devious place behind.

The mattress dipped, meaning Alastor sat down next to you. He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips.

He started with your fingertips. Then knuckles. With soft kisses he peppered your hand and then twisted it to do the same to your palm. He kissed the base of your fingers, the little pit in your palm, the soft bulge where your thumb was, the bunch of blue veins on your wrist. He moved slowly, reveling in each gentle kiss. He knew, you wouldn't listen to his words now, and though he wasn't a fancier of endearment, he knew it was what you needed, even if you tried to move your hand away first. He placed more kisses higher, following up your forearm, and felt you relaxing at the press of his lips. Knowing you had no fears anymore cost any possible way of achieving it, and he gladly pressed one kiss after another one, higher and higher. He peppered your shoulder through the fine fabric of your shirt and moved to your bare neck. You sighed as his lips lightly touched sensitive skin and tilted your head, giving him more space. He traced with kisses to your earlobe and kissed it as well. You were not yourself anymore, mind felt fuzzy, every depressive thought was forgotten and you only waited what would he do next.

And he whispered into your ear,

“I didn't have time to promise you, dear.”

“Promise what?” You asked weakly with your eyes closed.

A kiss on your temple, your cheek, your jawline and chin. He said, turning your head to him with his thumb.

“A life full of different flavours, of course. I promise, you will not just taste it, my sweet dear, you'll eat it up.”

His lips were the gentlest on you as he gave a kiss to your lips, as if sealing up the promise forever.

ミ ☼ 彡

This evening in the living room was much louder than usual, although not less cosy. It was the largest room in the inn after the dining room, which was the whole front part of the house on the first floor. The living room was also on the first floor, a short corridor near the stairs led to it. The room served for visitors to spend their evenings by playing billiards, or cards, or dominoes, to chat with each other beside the fireplace, to enjoy a small library you’d made for the decent taste of ordinary traveller in the area: detectives and short stories, and one shelf with heavy volume of classics. The room was cosy and drew people together for all these years with its undeniable homey atmosphere and charm. But since Alastor had come, he occupied the living room just for himself. He liked to spend his evening hours free of a hunt with flair, and what could be more suitable but a wood-panelled room with a fireplace, filled with warm rays of the setting sun? Thanks to his reputation nobody dared to cross the threshold when he was inside, nobody wanted to stay tet-a-tet with the infamous killer, so Alastor could enjoy the shy crackling of logs just by himself.

But right on the first night here Alastor asked you to keep him company, and you without hesitation agreed. Since then you had spent most of the evenings together, despite the warnings of Father and not caring for rumours of the residents. Both of you sincerely enjoyed each other's company and treasured every evening spending together.

But tonight there were a couple more to your company.

“...and then I stabbed-stabbed-stabbed him! Ahahahah!” Niffty hysterically laughed, waving her legs in the air, ending the story of a sheriff whose life she ended. The woman appeared to be as dangerous as it should be expected from Alastor's companion, though you were impressed with cruelty dwelling in her character. She looked neat and adorable, and inside she was as merciless as her boss, and a little more insane than he. And still, you liked her. She was sincere.

“Wow, that's impressive.” You commented, taking a sip of whiskey and catching a smile from Alastor. He mentioned he didn't like the story due to the fact he wasn't at his best that time and couldn't take part in the battle like he wanted to (and Husk added Alastor was severely wounded then, receiving a glare from his boss), but he couldn't resist Niffty to let her boast of her adroitness, of which he was proud as well.

“Your bartender’s good for nothin’. How does he even work for you?” Husk entered the room, with a new bottle. He refused to accept any bottle conjured by Alastor because of one delicate episode of which he'd refused to tell either. (Though Niffty had whispered to you something about a living snake in a bottle of a Japanese liqueur.) His remark made you shrug your shoulders, because you didn't know indeed.

“Well, if you don't like his service you could replace him. Seems like you're an expert in liquors?”

“No, thanks,” He filled the glasses for himself and Alastor and sat in the armchair next to you. You didn't drink more than you had for now, and Niffty was simply forbidden of alcohol and was sipping her tea. “I'd never work in service again.”

“Oh, really?” Alastor leaned forward with a smirk.

Husker lifted his eyes at him,

“It's not work, you know that.”

“Hm, you're right.”

There was only the crackling of the fireplace for some time. Every time Husk’s ‘employment’ was mentioned he became rather uncomfortable, and Alastor took it as his debt to make this feeling for him even worse. You tried to change the subject,

“And what is in the cart after all? You've been keeping it all so dark for the whole day! My father is all nervous about it.”

“It's a secret we must keep!” Niffty sang out.

“C'mon, darling, you can trust (Y/n).” Alastor smiled. The sundowning rays beautifully shone over his face. Niffty looked at you, as if waiting for confirmation from you as well.

“I suppose?” You said. It wasn't often Alastor used your name. He usually called you with pet names and every time saying your name you felt something twitching inside your chest.

Niffty's eye shone up brightly in mischief as she kept on playing secrecy,

“Well then… There is something very important, without which our existence is impossible. Take it away — and we are finished.”

“It's just our belongings.” Husk said. Alastor chuckled at Niffty's lamentation, and Husker smirked at your surprised look, “What? You didn't think that Mr. Fancy-Creepy-Tall can live without his smart jackets and expensive guns, though he's the one who doesn't even need them?”

“But there are mostly our belongings!” Niffty added. “Alastor can conjure up anything he needs, and we can't. So we have to carry this big cart through aaaaaall of our travels.”

“I see.”

You glanced at Alastor who'd been watching you and noticed that his shirt was in fact a new one, which you hadn't seen before, with a barely visible floral pattern on red cotton. And you were not sure if his jeans had so many rivets on the side seams before.

“And also we sleep there, too.” She said in her cup.

“Well, that's too much of intimate details, darling.” Alastor chuckled.

You emptied your glass,

“Thank you for the evening, guys.” You said, standing up. “It was greatly pleasant. Goodnight!”

Husk and Niffty thanked you loudly and wished you a good night as well, but as you cross the half of the room, you heard steps running up to you,

“Sugar!”

You turned around, Alastor's hands fell on your shoulders. The voices of the friends became muffled to you.

You didn't have any doubts, nor did you feel anger. Maybe you just didn't want to experience it all again, or maybe his actions and words were indeed heartfelt. Everything you were crying about last evening was dissolved. Now you knew, Alastor would leave but he would never leave you.

Your heart beat faster as he whispered with a bright smile,

“I have plans for us for tomorrow.”

You didn't have time to ask him — he pressed his lips to your forehead and sent you to bed.

ミ ☼ 彡

As one of the guests dropped his bowl, and venison broth appeared on the floor, and before you could even protest, Niffty snatched the broom out of your hands and began to clean. And she didn't stop with just wiping the broth away and washing the floor, she immediately noticed how dusty the corners were, how many webs there were under the ceiling, and how sticky some of the tables were. It seemed as if some kind of a maid mode was turned on in her when she noticed the mess. And she turned out to be rather proprietorial when it came to cleaning. So you gave up on your poor attempts to help her helping you and sat down at the table next to Alastor having breakfast. After all you couldn't deny she did it better than you.

Your father came subsequently and of course was shocked with the scene: the daughter of the inn's host was sitting at the table in the company of two rotten outlaws, sipping her tea, while her young guest was scrubbing every surface around clean. That would be the last straw if his daughter would follow the outlaws' tastes and get out of hand.

“What do you think you are?!” He shouted out your name, making you smile flatten.

“I-I did nothing.” You knew the reason for his anger, and knew he had made a hasty conclusion. “Let her be!” You said, knowing the intention of Father — in this house only you could clean.

Father approached Niffty but had to jerk his hand back when the woman literally clacked her teeth at him, causing a burst of laughter from Alastor.

“I told you!” You said, meeting his suddenly frightened look.

Later this day Alastor took you aside to discuss a ritual.

“Ritual?”

“Yes, indeedy, a ritual!” Seeing how you raised your eyebrows, Alastor chuckled, “Don't worry, sugar, it's only a preparation, the ritual itself we're performing together.”

“Performing together?”

Why did Alastor answering your questions always make you question more?

“Of course together!” He exclaimed as loud as if he was praising a child for a right answer. “Firstly, you, my dear, are absolutely ignorant in this field, and secondly, one way or another, in this kind of ritual at least two people are engaged. I left the list with preparation in your bedroom on the desk-”

“Wait, I don't get it.” You remembered everything he said. Alastor patiently waited. “A ritual for..?” You raised your eyes at him.

“For making you like me. Almost like me,“ He added with a mischievous smile. “I'll willingly spur you on but the rest depends on you.”

“Okay.” The thought of Alastor wanting to give you at least a part of his powers made you excited but you suppressed your smile, asking another question, “And what about together part? Shouldn't preparation also be collaborative? Shouldn't preparation also be joint?”

“No, it shouldn't.” He lowered his voice. “You see, dear, we're not preparing for the ritual, we're preparing you.” He fell silent, letting you think about his words. Suddenly he threw out his chest and waved his hand at himself, “I'm ready!” His features indeed told enough about his magic abilities. “But your body and soul have to be… attuned. They aren't ready yet for the powers that would crush on them during the observance. That's why you should follow every single point on the list I've left, while Husker and I will be exploring the area.”

“You what?!”

Alastor put his hands on your shoulders and you instinctively made a step to him.

“This place is truly uncanny because of how easily you can get lost here and how terribly you can die. When you start out on a journey, you must not straggle. Of course, going with me, dear, you are in no danger,” He smirked ”But I have no desire to wander around for months to return back to this house — and this is exactly what happens to those who lose their way. So Husker and I have decided to check the paths to find the right one and stick to it when we leave this place together.”

One more question.

“But how will you find the right one?”

And no answer. Only a mysterious smile.

On your desk you indeed found a note with many points, some of which were written in red. The list included the food you should eat and in what amounts, how many (or rather how few) hours of sleep were allowed to you, and how you should entertain yourself in vigil, how often you could communicate and with whom even; the list even described what kind of emotions you were and were not allowed to feel. Everything was described in great detail and by days, so now you knew that the day after tomorrow Alastor would leave the inn, and on the Saturday he would come back. Just five days without him, that doesn't sound too bad, does it? But the truth was that you'd got used to him and his soothing presence so much, you could not imagine a day without at least a sight of him. But the preparation seemed as some kind of fast you had to keep to be the one you want to and to be with the one you want to be with. And advents had never been simple. Their purpose was to teach you with the few struggling what real suffering was like, and thereby teach you to respect God, and by that purify you. But this sort of observance had to clean you not for cleansing but for defiling. In struggles a man was on a cross-road between salvation and disgrace. All he has to do is to choose whether he keeps the fast or breaks it. But Alastor had left you no magic words what could serve as a helping prayer, and the menu he made for you consisted only of meat which by the end of the preparation you had to consume raw. Where other people becoming corporally weak had a chance to find their way to pure salvation, you, emaciated with hunger and sleep deprivation, would be pushed straight into savagery with no option to choose. And this would fill your empty body and balanced soul with sin. Just in a week you would become a sore person to be turned into something more, someone sinister and evil.

You didn't mind. Since the word of the ritual was said you were thrilled and worried only because you couldn't believe the things were going so fast. Not only the ritual had started, but Alastor said he was going to take you away with him! It was everything you wanted, so no doubt you would follow the destructive rules to achieve the desired.

But when Alastor had started his own preparation for leaving, you began to feel longing. You knew he would come back: Niffty was told to stay with you, Husk grumbled something about unreasonable precaution, and Alastor himself never missed an opportunity to smile widely at your father and remind him that he would come back for you.

But still the knowing of the forthcoming parting was gnawing at your soul like real solitude.

Looking through the list again you realised how dreadfully hard it would be — not to follow the new schedule, but to wait. Especially knowing how good it was to be near him, how strong were his hands around you, how salty were his lips against yours, how tingling was his whisper between kisses…

As you entered his room you saw Alastor sitting at the desk with a small volume and a pencil in his hands. In two hours, when the sun would be replaced with the moon, he and Husk would leave. They didn't explain why they wanted to leave at night, but at least you had extra time to spend with Alastor, and you knew he didn't need much time for packing, so he'd finished with it long ago, and you were lucky to have on this day only one task, apart from not to deviate your menu — don't be shy to follow your first thought, for it is a call of your instinct you must to submit.

Alastor heard your steps and raised his head,

“Oh, cher! I'm so glad to see you! This book is splendid! The story’s so mysterious, I myself lost in conjectures how the heroine will get free from this snare, and the authoress's language! Oh, dear, she's an artist who paints with a word! How graphically she describes the landscapes, how clearly she analyses her characters! I'm simply enchanted!” He noticed your eyes fixed to his hand with the pencil. “Hope, you don't mind?” He twirled the tool in his hand.

“Of course not. To the contrary, I'm very glad you like it and with delight I'd like to read your comments.”

You came up closer and placed a kiss on his forehead. Alastor made a sound you couldn't really determine but that was adorable, especially when he drew you closer, hiding his face in your chest. You wrapped your hands around him and played with his hair. You stared in the window, watching the moon rising slowly. It was a sweet moment, but not endless.

“Say,” You started, stroking his slightly curly locks, “ Is lying with a demon counts for profanation of my body and soul?”

“Hmm…” His hands caressing the small of your back slid lower. He knew where you were leading, and he liked it. The thought of leaving unsatisfied was awful, he even thought to suggest something like this himself but then remembered the night and realized — you would come yourself.

“It does.” He murmured, lifting his head. He tried not to think that such a start of a conversation was unexpected — he had to get used to you being such a temptress. “But I'm afraid it can ignite your desire which will make the wait even more agonizing.”

“I’m already burning.” You bent yourself and caught his lips. You kissed him hungrily, swallowed his short yelp of surprise and wrapped your hands around his neck, pressing yourself closely to him. Alastor didn't expect such greed from you, but there was no doubt he reveled in it. His hands firmly squeezed your hips, and as you moaned into the kiss, placing your knee on the seat near his hip, both yours and his desires blazed up as a match. Your hands travelled down his collar, undoing the shirt; you let your body sink lower, sitting down on his laps, and you felt him being hard through the fabric. Alastor stood right away, lifting you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, deepening your kiss.

Then you appeared on the bed and Alastor was at your knees.

“Remember my promise?” His smile was voluptuous as he slowly placed your legs on his shoulders one by one.

“Of course.” You said with a trembling voice. He promises you taste. Did he really want to..?

“How about a little… adjustment?” He tilted his head, baring your legs as he slowly rolled up your skirt.

You didn't really want to adjust anything, but his intentions seemed too tempting, and after all, it was too late to recede.

“You should know, my dear,” He kissed the inner side of your knee, “I never do anything for free. Everything has its price and for me, as for a deal maker,” And kissed the other knee cap, “it's even more important than for anybody else. But my price is not money, not even a body." His gaze glued to your thighs and higher in the between. You felt his hands careful taking off your underwear. “My price is owning.”

You swallowed as his ogle met yours. Letting the thin cotton slide down your ankles, he didn't take his eyes off your face, watching your reaction at his statement. The adjustment was necessary from the start. Could you ever feel free with him by your side? Alastor never thought he would feel real affection towards anyone, but now the idea of letting you go he just hated. You had to belong to him only, and he would do anything for this. Alastor would let you be free from anything you wanted: laws, morals, relationships; anything but himself. You should know by now how possessive he was, and it could come up against your primordial desire, if only Alastor hadn't known that you were the same in your basics. You said taste. For him you were the flavour of his life and now he had to know if you believed that two possessive creatures could feel free in each other's grasp, when all they wanted most was each other, and each other they had. He could have you and be satisfied — could you? If you agree to accept his help then you must accept his conditioncondition: you cannot escape him and anything he offers you, just as he now can't resist you. If one bonds to another, the other one must do the same.

“Aren't I yours?”

Your answer made him stop his caress.

You were looking down on him with your knees on his shoulders, you coolly held your chin up but flushed brightly as the sunset sky — Alastor couldn't tell who was in the lead now. Though he was the one who turned you to this state, he was the one kneeling and drooling at the view of you. But your answer made him believe you felt the same. You knew you could break free from this place only with him, and you knew you couldn't be free in this life without him. He helped you to find yourself, and now you couldn’t throw away his influence from your being. You did accepted his condition.

“Let us make sure of this.” He said with a playful smile, though both of you knew the answer.

He brought his face to your soaking centre and captured it with his mouth and his tongue out. A loud moan escaped you at once and you covered your month with your hand. His tongue was fast and so adroit over you, it slid up and down between your folds, carefully and firmly at the same time. The sharp fangs surrounded your cunt but never hurt, they only were a reminder for you to sit still, which was extremely hard, especially when his tongue began poking in your entrance and curving up to play with your clit. You moaned into your palm, watching him torturing you so sweetly. He slid deeper. This tongue was enormously long and strong, literally the devil’s tongue; he caressed your walls making your hips roll which caused a breaking of your skin against his fangs, and Alastor rolled his eyes back as your blood ran straight into his mouth and he pressed harder. Your legs began to tremble, it was harder to stay in sitting position with your head dizzy and muscles so tense, and Alastor just couldn't stop. He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, and he was a messy eater: he champed and made a squelch noise, he talked between swallowings, calling you “good”, “sweet”, “tender”, he sucked at your clit intensively, never stopping even if you slapped his shoulder in convulsions.

You fell on the mattress suffocatingly, but barely you had time to take your breath because Alastor climbed over you, unfastening his belt,

“I'm not done with you, yet,” He said, gripping your chin in his hand and smashing his glistening and blood-stained lips against yours. He sent your own taste into your mouth, spreading it along your tongue.

There was nothing sweet about it, but the act, so filthy and led with such grace, gave birth to something in you. Entwining your tongues, you couldn't help wondering how would he taste and would he accept his own flavour as ardently as you were accepting yours. Would it be bitter as his lips, salty as you, or savoury?

As Alastor parted from you he met your dark gaze.

“Delicious, isn't it?” He asked, passing his fingertips down your chin and throat. You swallowed, and he watched the bulge going up and down under his fingers.

When you wanted to answer, Alastor grabbed you by your shoulders and threw you around on your stomach. His hands then grabbed you under your hips, lifting and drawing you closer to him. You felt his hand sliding up your leg, rolling the skirt over you, and you sighed as his claws gazed up your thighs. You tucked Alastor’s pillow under your arms, his scent enveloped you.

“I'm going to act slow at first, and then…” Alastor leaned over you, whispering in your ear with a chuckle, “We'll see.”

He loved the way you blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear to see more of your lovely face, but the gesture made you flush even more, and you hid your face in the pillow. “Ha-ha! There's no need to be scared, darling. I’m not hurting you.”

You heard the rustle of the fabric behind you.

“I thought you would let me touch you.” You murmured. You couldn't see his face to read his emotion and intention, couldn't know what he was about to do next — you were absolutely at his mercy, and it scared you as much as it thrilled you.

“You can hold my hand.”

His hand found yours under the pillow and brought it out. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you felt a kiss behind your ear.

“Let me know if it's too much.” He said, lowering his pants. You nodded, though Alastor said it rather to hearten you, he knew how easily he lost control when it came to possession or something pleasuring him. But he had to try to be more courteous.

The tip of his cock slid down and up your slot, the head buried in your entrance just to leave you and slid up again, making you quietly moan because of a broken off pleasure. Alastor teased you, smearing his pre cum between your folds, though you already were abundantly soaked. You softly moaned at his caress but were still quiet enough; you brushed his fingers holding your palm and Alastor couldn't help peppering your bared shoulder with kisses, silently approving your stillness. But something was burning and itching within you, and you anticipated when Alastor would soothe this feeling. You began to move your hips against his cock.

“Alright then, sugar, I see you're starving to have me, aren't you?” And with a groan he shoved in.

“Mmm!” You bit your lip, as he entered and slowly pushed deeper, outstretching you. Then he retracted to thrust in again, and again, and again.

“How tight, dear…” He groaned quietly, keeping his pace and watching himself disappearing in you.

Your eyes rolled back, and you bit down on the pillow silenting yourself as he passed another ring in you and stopped. Alastor let go of your hand and placed his both palms on your hips, keeping you in one place. His cock was completely buried in you. When he slightly pushed your body forward, he saw how tightly your lips enveloped him, as if you were not about to let him go ever. What a beautiful view! He threw his head back, burying himself in you once again and pressing closely to you so his balls touched you as well.

“Oh-h…” You moaned out, raising your head in pleasure, “Ah.. Ah, ah, ah-h!”

He began to thrust in a steady pace, and each emitted by you moan became louder as he shoved deeper. He firmly propped up your pelvis but that wasn’t enough to escape a fall, so hard he thrusted in you, so you propped yourself with your elbows, but with a new angle he reached a new spot, making you scream. His palm covered your mouth right away,

“Shhh, hush, darling,” He whispered without stopping thrusting, your moans shattered against his skin, “We don't want others to know what a filthy little gal you are, do we?”

He only slackened his pace when the bed began to hit against the wall. Alastor uncovered your mouth, letting you hold on to his hand again. You pursed up your lips, firmly squeezing his hand, but it was so hard to remain quiet. He was too good, and you whispered his name, trying not to make much noise. He felt you were close,

“Yes, that's it. You're being such a good girl for me, darling. Wanna get a reward?”

His body covered yours, pinning you to the mattress, leaving you helpless beneath him. And if it hadn't felt as good as it was, you would doubt whose reward it actually was, because the way Alastor couldn't suppress two little moans told you how much he was enjoying it. But at times it became painful. Though he hadn't let you see him, at first touch of his cock between your lips you could guess how long and big he was. And now with his length thrusting in and out you, your guess was confirmed. You hid your face in the pillow again not to let another scream escape you, and for a moment only the lewd sound of slamming skin was heard in the room, but soon as Alastor's pace was growing ruder you became louder even with the pillow between your clenched teeth, and you had to raise your head again to avoid suffocating. His palm lay on your forehead, pressing you down; you rolled your eyes into your skull, reaching your high, and he pressed his mouth to your neck, giving you a love bite, and finally slowing down.

“Like that, cher, yes, keep holding my hand, keep going.”

Suppressed moans escaped your closed lips as he moved slowly but deeply, lingering everytime his abdomen touched you. He kissed every inch of your neck and shoulder, now learning where you were most sensitive, while his hips gently rolled against your butt. You mumbled something unintelligible, you’d lost any trace of consciousness long ago — he had simply fucked it out of you — but you still realized one thing: only he could have you this way, and only you he could have. It correlated with your deal, or maybe it was the part of the deal, you couldn't remember now, but it didn't make you feel smaller. Even with your face pinned down to the pillow and your body taken in a rough way, you still felt affection from him: in the way he left kisses over your face, in the praising words between his groans, in the way he held your hand.

“I know, I know, sweetness, but just a lil’ more.” He groaned, slightly leaning back, taking the view of your connection. Your juices dripped down your thighs and on the sheets when he moved back leaving only the head inside; then he slid in again and was squeezed by your tightness; he felt you were close again, and didn't change the pace, shoving himself in and out slowly and hard,

“Like that, cher, taking your devil so g-good.”

“Ah-alastor..!”

He pressed your pelvis to him, bespatting you at the same time as you came on his cock. Moaning he made a few more shoves, cramming his fluid in you and tumbled down next to you.

You were so beautiful with messy hair and tear-stained eyes, with bright blush on your cheeks and lustful gaze. In dim light you saw how dilated his pupils were, though the scarlet eyes still radiated light. You remembered what he said before coming and smirked, was he serious then? You clung closely to him, folding your arms around his neck, and he embraced your waist.

“Honestly, I'd like to have more,” You whispered, kissing his collarbone, “but I'm afraid I'll swoon — I've hardly eaten anything today.”

“Hmm.” He looked up as if turning over something, then his gaze fell down on you again, “Honestly, I don't think it would stop me.”

“That's why I'm saying.”

“And would you mind?”

You didn't find an answer for this, although it was one of the few moments when Alastor gave you time to think. And then, understanding what you wanted from him and realizing how, probably, rotten you were if the answer didn't scare you, you decided not to spill the truth. You looked up at him, kissing the tip of his nose,

“And would you mind if I'd poisoned you to take advantage of you, huh?”

“You, advantage, of me?” He pointed at you and himself as he was speaking with an assumed surprise, “Absolutely not.” He said gravely.

Someone decided to be honest tonight.

ミ ☼ 彡

You were standing on the porch, watching Alastor and Husker putting the luggage on their horses. It was rather hard to stand still and not to shift one foot to the other, trying to keep the balance, after the goodbye with Alastor. And you also were not sure if you’d succeeded to stay quiet then, because of the gazes Father was casting at you. But on the other hand it was his usual state. You had no doubt if something had been really heard, you couldn't avoid Husk's frowns as well. But he seemed to concentrate only on the preparations. The only one who acted the way he knew everything was Alastor himself. He couldn't stop staring at you and even winking, which aroused indignation from Father, but you couldn't help smiling back at him, and your hands pulled at the kerchief hiding a red love bite around your neck all the time.

“Well,” He said, coming up to you, “Don't be naughty here, my sweetness, Niffty will keep her eye on you.”

You looked to the left where Niffty was trying to stab ants crawling up the wooden pillar. Your father was watching her with caution.

“More like I'm keeping my eye on her.” You chuckled.

Niffty heard your voice and ran up,

“Don't be silly! You can't even take care of the place, how can you then take care of yourself?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile,

“Maybe I can take better care of something else?” You looked at Alastor, and he gave you a smug grin.

“Like what?” She rolled her eyes annoyed and then noticed the look you were exchanging with Alastor. “Oh… Is that riding, you cowgirl?” But before you could reply to her remark, she went away with a giggle.

Alastor took your hand and led you to Cheval. Husk was already in the saddle and was watching you both.

“Say, my preparations take five more days because on the sixth one, on the Saturday, you'll come back, right?” You asked, lowering your voice so your father wouldn't hear, though he stayed on the porch.

“Yes, cher, that's right.” Alastor answered with a warm look. His palm found your chin, making you lift your head — he wanted to take the better look of you. The scarlet of his eyes hypnotised you again, and the chill of the night lying on your shoulders tore you away from the worries of your life completely. There were two things giving you hope: the night and your beloved. And now the night was taking your beloved away from you, pushing you into your own night of life. But every, even the darkest, night ends with sunrise, doesn't it? But still you absorbed every detail of his face and clung to the warmth radiated from his body, still not ready to be apart. You’d known even more of his body by now, but there true was that you could never take enough look of him. So couldn't he. That's why he cupped your head in his palms and feasted his eyes on you. Suddenly he looked up. Your father was still staring at your couple just as a few of the residents, who were curious to witness the Smiling Demon in flesh and the girl smitten with him, or, as some of them rumoured, the girl with whom he was smitten. Anyway, Alastor couldn't miss the opportunity.

His gaze returned to you, and he leaned towards you, catching your lips in a kiss soft like zephyr. You widened your eyes — it was the first time he was kissing you in public, and you could swear you heard a gasp from behind — and closed them at once, leaning closer, melting in his embrace. Sometimes you forgot Alastor could be as gentle, nothing about him told about tenderness: neither his claws, nor his fangs, nor his sharp eyes. Nevertheless he was holding you like a porcelain doll, with care and love. And you liked this side of him as much as the other, poisonous, one.

He parted from you, but none of you opened your eyes until Husk caught into his fist.

“Are we goin’ or?”

Alastor jumped on horseback and leaned down to you, stealing another kiss.

“See you on Saturday, belle!” He said, tilting his hat.

“Come soon.”

But it would take five days.

You didn't enter the house until both silhouettes dissolved in the darkness.

ミ˙˚☆˙. ⋆ ☼ ⋆ .˙☆˚˙彡

p.s. hope it isn't so messy as it seemed to me during the rereading and editing...

#hirschkuh's works #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut

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vocallywritten · 3 months ago

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Okay so I rewatched The Joining of Hands last night entirely so I could watch that argument in the street scene because it is so pivotal in Polin's relationship. Like I'm pretty sure this is the moment that ultimately reassures Colin that he should go through with the wedding. Not that there was any world where he wouldn't have gone through with it, of course. But he's been stewing all this time in his hurt feelings and the betrayal. This is the moment where Colin and Penelope are finally, completely themselves, and they both know it. They are, at last, on equal footing in their relationship.

Season 3 is all about seeing the people we love as flawed individuals and loving them anyway.

For the past 2 seasons, Penelope saw Colin through rose colored glasses, and he only fell from the pedestal she put him on at the end of season 2. Then in part 2 of season 3, Colin is the one who has put Penelope on a pedestal. He has put her so far above himself, in fact, that he is constantly worried that she will realize he isn't worth it, and call off their engagement.

Love has given him an idealized view of who he thinks Penelope is, so when he finds out she's Whistledown, he's crushed. The woman he had planned a future with, the girl he had known since childhood, he cannot reconcile these parts of Penelope with Lady Whistledown. Now he knows Penelope is a liar, and that she's capable of devastating cruelty. He doesn't know her reasons yet, he just knows that there is a whole other side to the woman he loves that he never knew, and its a side he has gone on record to anyone who will listen that he despises.

Before Colin found out about the Whistledown of it all, despite his anxiety that Pen may change her mind, he was thrilled to be marrying her. And after, for all his sulking and talk of entrapment, he was never going to abandon her. Which tells us that his love for her runs deeper than that romanticized ideal he had of Pen before he found out the truth. But he still has all of this hurt to work through before he can forgive her. And of course he does! He sometimes has a tendency to catastrophize at the best of times and now he has so much reason to doubt. Does Penelope actually love him? He wasn't even sure before, but now he knows that she's lied to him about other things. Is it really so much of a stretch to think she might have been lying about this? Especially about the one thing he already finds least believable: that someone could love him without him earning it first. He's also kind of mourning the person he thought Penelope was and the future he imagined with that person.

So you take all of this and you add in Penelope, who is struggling with her own identity and secrets and really, finally coming into her own. The Penelope of last season might have given up Whistledown without a second thought if it meant she could have Colin. The Penelope now has a much healthier relationship with her love for him. She's already been through the breaking of the rose colored glasses. She's settled and comfortable with her love for him now, it's grown from a childhood infatuation into a mature, fully realized love.

The conflict for Penelope is not if she loves Colin enough, but rather, if she can love herself enough to be herself and to give the people around her the chance to love all of her. For so long she hid part of herself away, and made herself as small and inoffensive as possible, but only showing the world the parts of herself she thought people would accept was ultimately very damaging to her and it wasn't even really something she could do. That's what Whistledown was born from. All of the things Penelope kept inside, too afraid to express.

So we have two people who love each other, who are experiencing parallel journeys to loving each other as flawed human beings. And they run into each other the night before their wedding.

This is, as I said, a pivotal moment in their relationship. Without it, I think the wedding may have gone a lot differently.

This is the first time we see them communicate without anything between them, no secrets, no one else around to pretend for, this is just them. Penelope, finally finding her own direction and embracing all parts of herself, is able to, as she says, hold her own. She is being completely honest with him and I think he picks up on that. She apologizes for the damage she has caused, seems genuinely contrite and answers all of his questions directly (also I didn't notice until last night but when Colin brings up "Miss Thompson" (at least he didn't call her Marina lol) the camera is on Colin but you can hear Penelope scoff and it's hilarious and pretty cute).

Colin has been kind of a mess up until this confrontation, emotionally speaking. He's hurt and he feels he doesn't know who Penelope really is anymore or where they stand as a couple. So when he's getting all of this honesty from her I think it kind of throws him, because he's directly confronted with a Penelope who is not quite the girl he thought he fell in love with, but also much more like her than he expected to find. He's confronted with her full self and he still loved her. He always knew he did, but here is the evidence staring him in the face.

And then she tells him that she loves him. Screams it in his face. And he's completely disarmed because she's been so honest and he just gave up one of his most deeply held insecurities to her and she told him she loves him.

I think this is the first time he really believes her when she says it. Before she said it when she was still lyong about Whistledown and he was insecure about her feeling. Before, she said it to defend herself and he wasn't ready to hear it. But when she says it then, you can see on his face how deeply her words effect him. He believes her.

This is why I think their wedding is able to be the sweet moment it is, the eye of the storm. After this conversation, they still have a lot of things they need to resolve, but they walked into that church knowing that they loved each other. That she loved him was the reassurance Colin really needed to marry her with a happy heart that day. I think his conversation with Anthony and Kate really drives that home. And all Penelope needed was reassurance that he still wanted to marry her and she was all in. That little exchange of nods brings tears to my eyes every time I see it and I do think we have that little confrontation outside the modiste to thank.

#this was so long im so sorry #bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #luke newton #nicola coughlan #bridgerton season three #bridgerton s3 #penelope x colin #penelope and colin #penelope bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

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crimsoncold · 3 months ago

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Jonsa Fairytale AU (True Love's Kiss) by @crimsoncold

If you must mourn, my love Mourn with the moon and the stars up above If you must mourn Don't do it alone

...

If you must die, sweetheart Die knowing your life was my life's best part If you must die Remember your life

-Keaton Henson, You

For a while l've been considering doing a Fairytale inspired jonsa AU but was never able to make up my mind in terms of which specific fairytale I wanted to base my art piece around (i could of course just do multiple ones but with already so many WIPs i didn't want to plan to add several more into my art rotation) so unable to make a decision I set the idea aside to work on other more concrete art ideas.

Then of course I saw the prompts for the Jonsa Valentine 2025 event, and it really did seem like the world itself was encouraging me to make a fairytale jonsa art piece.

This time I chose to avoid basing it on one specific fairytale and instead considered more general fairytale tropes that are found across many tales when I was brainstorming ideas on what I would make for this prompt.

In the end I decided to use the trope of True Love's Kiss (i.e. A kiss imbued with it's own sort of magic, able to break a curse, or even bring someone back from literal death) both because I thought it would be visually interesting and because I felt it would incorporate several elements of asoiaf/got canon.

(i.e. both the inherent romanticism of Jon and Sansa's personalities and storylines as well as specific events like Jon's tragic "death" and his later resurrection as well as the likely possibility of Sansa being the girl in grey fleeing north to be reunited with her "brother")

As for the related quote, I had been struggling to pick one as most of my possible choices, while admittedly poignant and romantic, felt very specific to either Jon or to Sansa in this art piece rather than being about the two of them together, so I'm actually really pleased with my final choice (lyrics from Keaton Henson's song You) as it feels like it had segments that represent the differing perspectives/wishes of both Jon and Sansa in this scenario.

I was pushing hard to have this finished in time (with the event being about a month a way when I first started this) and even though it ended up taking me a lot more time than I had hoped, I am happy with my decision to make two versions of this artwork as i feel the most satisfying element and impactful part of this fairytale trope is in the profound transformation it can create, and to do this justice I really felt I needed a before and after version of Sansa's Kiss being what brings Jon back from the dead.

Anyway thats about all the background info I'd like to dump on you about this piece so l'll end this on a thank you; specifically thank you to anyone who found, liked, or shared this piece and/or bothered to read my rambling thoughts about making this, as well as a thank you to everyone in this fandom who arranged and/or participated in this event!

Being part of a small but so dedicated fandom is just the sort of thing that makes me happy when everything else around me starts to feel harsh and distressing. I hope you all have a wonderful day and that everyone feels inspired to keep making and sharing all sorts of art and creative pieces for this fandom- it seems a very small thing in the scope of everything happening in the world and our lives but its still something that brings some much needed joy that I think many (especially myself) greatly value while also forgetting or struggling to actually find a way to adequately express our appreciation... so this is just my attempt to say thank you all for making this little slice of fandom so wonderful!

-Crimson Cold

#jonsa #jonsa fanart #jonsa valentine 2025 #Crimson Cold #my art #sansa stark #jon snow #sansa stark fanart #jon snow fanart #game of thrones art game of thrones #a song of ice and fire art a song of ice and fire #asoiaf/got art #asoiaf/got #jon snow x sansa stark #jon x sansa #jonsa valentine #jonsa au #crimson cold thoughts

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pinkexpertnerdghost · 2 years ago

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A Rose for You!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Pt.2 to Watch and Be Amazed!

{ Ok! Ya'll asked for it. I kinda wanted to write more in the first part but it was already kinda lengthy. As in the last part there wasn't much one on one Lyney and Reader moments. But don't fret dear [Name]! You'll be in the lovely company of this little magical menace for a tour around the Nation! }

! Some Spoilers for the Fontaine Archon Quest Act 1 and some nudges to Lyney and Lynettes Backstory/Personal Stories !

General: sfw, fluff, Grin Malkin Cat, small Freminet and Lynette cameo, Lyney being the charming little flirt he is, flustered Lyney, french, a wee bit of angst here and there towards the end,

It was a new day, and you felt refreshed. Truly, Fontaine is one of the most snazziest places you’ve ever been in. Alongside the technological advancements, there was much attention to the intricacies of decorum and an artistic romanticism in the most mundane activities. Although, the air was a bit smellier than the countryside and the stars couldn’t sparkle as brightly.

You had woken up from your slumber, the sun beaming through the thin curtains by the window. Next to your bedside was a small nightstand with a beautiful lamp and the prop card laying face down.

You rolled a bit around in your bed until you laid on your back facing the ceiling.

Your mind wandered to the events that unfolded last evening. The colorful memory replayed in your mind like moving photographs.

The doves, cats in hats, paper butterflies and a pair of soft lilac eyes.

You sighed.

From the walk to your hotel yesterday, you had viciously tried to recount the events that happened. At what point did Lyney slip this note in your sleeve? And why didn’t you notice sooner?

You had trouble sleeping that night.

Lyney couldn’t have been serious could he? It was just a part of the show, of course he would shower you with pretty words and a suave demeanor . It's part of his charming routine, nothing more.

Then again…

Why did he whisper at you so much? Now you thought about it, you were up there for at least one two..TECHNICALLY FOUR ACTS?! Also, he stopped you after the show to talk. AND NOW HE HANDED YOU A CARD ASKING YOU OUT?! No WaIT- Not ‘Out Out’ like a date or anything, an outing as friends? Can you even call him that?! What acquaintance just requests a day to hang out together? HE ISN'T BREAKING SOME PERFORMER AUDIENCE ETIQUETTE REGULATIONS IS HE?!-

Overthinking can lead to a very unsettled mindset preventing you from getting proper rest.

So here you were, laying like a beached seal on your bed. You didn’t bother to get up right away. Too lazy and your head was fizzed out of thoughts.

You shifted your head around, the bedding beneath you shuffled along. On the nightstand was the prop card you had found in your sleeve last night.

You eyed the shiny piece of paper. The little red grinning cat silhouette on the backside felt like it was taunting you. Calling you pathetic as it stared at you from atop his side table throne.

Stretching your arms above your head, you finally sat up.

You reached and picked up the card, holding it with your index and thumb. Once again you carefully read the words that were written on the front in cursive.

“ I hope you had a magical evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! ”

You stared at it and noticed it was written on what was a blank playing card.

Staring at how the curved letters formulated each word you wondered.

Meet him at the benches by the Aquabus station by noon. Did you really trust this man? Even though he is technically a celebrity, you just met him not even a day ago.

You swung your feet off the bed, card still in hand. Stepping down onto the small bedside rug, you idled around near the window. It looked to be early morning, you’d guess around eight o’ clock.

“ I don’t have much plans today. Other than wandering the streets and walking into what I think will be interesting.” You said, your voice a bit groggy.

You twirled the card in your hand.

You thought carefully of what you’d do next.

“ I think he might it want back.”

Yeah, that’s it.

“I’m sorry, sir?” You yelped. You had to crane your neck a bit to be able to make eye contact? You didn’t think it had eyes, but nevertheless you made the best effort to stare into its face.

Or what looked to be a face.

You had seen some of them walking about freely in the main city. When you were making your way towards a staircase you bumped into one.

The robotic garde halted and nodded.

‘ Ah, so they can communicate.’

It went back to walking down the street, undeterred. Turning around after that odd exchange you went back to the matter afoot.

You were lost. Lyney never specified which station he’d be waiting in. You were almost half convinced he was going to be at the Marcotte Line; the one closest to the Opera Epiclese. Although, the more you thought about it the less likely he would be there.

He did mention that he might be available to take you to see around Fontaine. So he must have meant the main station hub located in the main city.

Even if he wasn’t there, you’d have that station checked off the list of possibilities.

You hurried up the stairs, the small journey reminding you of the Nation of Freedom surprisingly. Although both were vastly different, they did share a similar style of building upward rather than outward.

Reaching the top, you made your way to the station. You kept your eyes open as you scoped out your surroundings hoping to find a tall tophat.

It shouldn’t be hard right? Someone as extravagant as him would surely stand out.

You stood corrected. It looks like many people here in Fontaine take up the fashion trend that was tall extravagant head wear. You had gone over almost every suspect bench near flora, most of them were occupied by either locals, adventurers or both.

He didn’t seem to be near the reception or the inner waiting area.

“ It's almost noon” you turn to look out a window, the sun is high in the sky now.

“ If I were a famous magician with an outgoing personality, where would I be?” You muttered as you had your eyes peeled, wondering in the same space.

Your eyes followed the cheers of children. Near a bench a group of kids surrounded someone.

“ Wow!”

“Where did it go?”

“Could you do it again mister?”

“ Alright! Since you asked nicely. Watch carefully now!~” You heard a jovial smooth voice.

Looking above the kid group you spot him, seated comfortably playing with his card deck.

‘ Of course! You’d be where a willing audience was present!’

You waltzed over subtly. He was entertaining a group of little kids with some card tricks, you’d let him finish his mini performance before you made yourself known.

“ Is this your card little Mademoiselle?” Lyney knelt down and held up a four of hearts card. The little girl with blonde hair jumped up excitedly.

“ Yeah! That’s my card!”

Lyney laughed, a warm expression graced his features. His eyes met yours for a split second. Not knowing what to do, you sent a little wave. Well at least he knows you're here.

His gaze flitted back to the group of kids. He got back up with the card in hand. “ Before I go, I’ll leave you all with a grand finale!”

The children gasped in unison and quieted down instantly.

He brought the card close to his face. He flicked it two times before crumpling it into his hand.

He shook his hand and reeled it as if he was going to throw a shot ball. He brought his hand up in a presenting way and when his palm opened there was a pop sound. It rained rainbow confetti and small cut out paper stars.

The children ooo’d and awe’d, and two were reaching their little arms up to catch the popper’s confetti.

“ Ta-da! This has been a special performance, brought to you by Magician Extraordinaire Lyney!” The magician lifted his cape from behind him and took a bow. The children clapped and cheered.

Two adults came walking up to the mini crowd.

“ Thank you for entertaining them, Mister Lyney. Getting our little Anais to sit still is a magic trick on its own.” An older woman laughed, as she picked up a small girl who wore a Boater styled hat.

“ Alright Hugo, let's go. Our boat will leave in a few minutes. Say thank you to Monsieur Lyney.” A man with a distinguished mustache taped a young boy in overalls. The little boy with his hands behind his back, thanked the magician before he went off with his father.

Lyney waved the kids off as he walked off towards you.

“ Hey there you. I hope managed to get a full night's rest.” He said, there was this sort of bounce in his voice. You may have only known him for a little while now, but you couldn’t help but pick up some recurring little quirks about him.

He wasn’t much different casually like he was on stage. This guy really does live and breathe in the spotlight huh?

“ Sort of. I had a bit of trouble sleeping.”

‘No way you were going to tell him you were thinking about him. That would make the rest of the day awkward.’

“ I did end up getting some shut eye though, eventually.” You mustered up a reassuring smile.

“ Trouble sleeping?” Lyney tilted his head as his index finger came up to chin. His eyes slightly narrowed as a mischief inducing grin made its way onto his face. “ You weren’t laying awake thinking about me were you?~”

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes and sputter out. Is telepathy in his book of magic tricks too?!

“What? No, of course not!” You forced a cough to cover your small blunder. “It’s just, I need to get accustomed to the climate, that's all. It's like that the first few days in a new location.”

Lyney laughed, his smirk melting into a more genuine expression.

“I’m kidding! That might have been a bit much, sorry about that! Hehe.” He said apologetically.

You crossed your arms as you held a small jaded stare at the cheeky magician. You were doubting if he really meant that. You blew out a held breath.

Reaching into your pocket you fetched the prop card

“ I found this in my sleeve when I left the Opera House. I believe this belongs to you.” You extended his card to him. His eyes suddenly lit up and he swiped the card away from you.

“So this is where it went! Honestly, sometimes my card deck has a mind of its own.” He mused as he twirled the card in his hand.

His eyes traveled back to you. “Well since it got you here today, why not take a walk around town! I did say if we had free time we were going to show you around. Call it an encore if you will.”

You looked around you, noticing something amiss after he said that.

“ Is Miss Lynette not going to join today?”

Lyney shrugged as he slid the card back into his deck. “ Lynette had something urgent to take care of, So she can't join us today unfortunately. So it will probably just be little old me and you today.”

He was idly playing around with the deck before he made it disappear. “ Oh, you don’t need to be so formal! Just Lyney is fine.”

You hummed.

“Alright. So any places to recommend visiting?”

At this the magician sported a confident smile and walked ahead of you. “ I have a full day planned out, a surprise around every corner. I want your stay in Fontaine to be an unforgettable glimmering memory.”

He turned on his heel to face you and extended a hand to you.

“ Now if you’d allow me to be your escort, mon cher?”

You could do nothing but stare. You couldn’t come up with any words to say except stepping forward and taking his hand.

With a content smile, Lyney gently pulled you along. His gloved hand felt smooth where his fingers grazed your palm yet there was a distinctive tougher texture where the white detailing was sewn on. The people wandering the streets around you felt like the fizzling suds of a wave.

You felt your face becoming a bit warmer.

He really does have a flair for the theatrical doesn’t he?

Lyney had taken you everywhere, one exciting place following the next. But before anything, he invented you for a meal. It was noon and the complimentary breakfast from early morning wasn’t going to keep you going for the entire day. So you both stopped by a humble cafe. The food was absolutely delicious! The smell of toasty bread invaded your senses and the savory taste of garlic on your tongue made you smile with each bite .

You were perfectly content with the garlic bread but you curiously asked Lyney for any recommended dish for the main course.

His answer was; “ If you want my word, then I’d say try this dish right here!” He pointed to a warm soup bowl as he leaned himself over to you.

After lunch, Lyney brought you to see many sights and places. From the tall waterfalls that made up the borders of Fontaine, you could stare at it for hours. He had to subtly pull you away from the viewing point as you kept your eyes glued to the running water.

You took the Aquabus every so often to get around. You were looking out into the distance. The water seemed to stretch on for infinity, islands broke through the surface making the land seem like one big jigsaw puzzle.

While the ride dragged out, Lyney made quick conversation to pass the time.

“So, what brought you to Fontaine, hm? If my memory serves me right, you mentioned that you don’t get out much.” Lyney sat next to you with his legs crossed.

“ Yeah. I see travelers but I'm never the one traveling. My job is not something exciting like an adventurer or extravagant like an artist.”

You shift in your seat. You folded your arms onto your lap.

“ I’m just a shopkeep. So, you can already say that I live a perfectly mundane life” You chuckled a bit dryly.

Lyney was uncharacteristically quiet. He was paying his undivided attention to your words. You continued.

“With every passing day, I gradually realized that my life had possibly reached a stalemate. Every day felt like a repeat of yesterday. It was the same route, same building, same aisles, and same feelings.” You said. You couldn’t exactly remember when you began to feel like this. It was a thought that had crossed your mind one day. And ever since, it had stayed in the crevices like gunk you couldn’t wipe off.

“ So, I decided that I’m just going to throw myself out there into the world!” You spoke. You couldn’t really say exactly what your ideas were, but you described what you felt.

Comfort. Trapped. Empty. Jealous. Fear. Doubt. Excitement.

“ It may be reckless of me, but If I was never going to do it, I knew I would end up feeling regret for not having done anything about it. And even so, my boss was kind enough to grant me time off.”

You snickered. “ I’m probably just assuming, but I feel like they might have let me have this because they probably noticed something. Not to brag, but I was their best employee. Swooping in to save the day when my colleagues were out.”

You stretched your arms a bit, not having realized how still your body was the entire time. Once you were done it felt nice; it was as if your entire being took a fresh breath of relief.

“ So now I’m here. In Fontaine on an Aquabus with you.” You look up to see Lyney again. His eyes were soft and he had this understanding expression on his face.

Really, any expression he wore felt as if it were through a pair of rosy lenses. Perhaps it was the natural charm artists like him had. Maybe.

Besides,he could get away with just about anything because of his attractive face.

You shook your head away to look out into the Fontaine waters around and below.

“ Well, good on you [Name]! I hope your ventures have been nothing but amazing and brought you happiness! ” He finally spoke. He inhaled deeply before he sighed out. His gaze faced the bow of the aquabus.

“ Do you agree that birds create wonderful music for the ear to hear? Not to mention the splendor of colorful feathers and their ability to fly.”

“Due to their natural charm, they are sometimes kept as ‘decorations’, provided food and shelter so long as they continue to amuse the people.” He said, his tone shifted ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but there was a very micro edge to his word.

He crossed his arms, the brim of his hat covered the sun creating a little inkling of shadow cast over half his face blocking out the sunlight that might’ve stung his eyes.

“ But being kept in captivity for too long, it will yearn for the open skies. It’s only a matter of time before the initial luxury turns into a finite cage.” Lyney hummed. His words brought you an unexplainable comfort yet somehow it felt very out of character for him. You subtly shift your gaze to his face. His expression didn’t seem to be exaggerated. His features were calm like a still lake, unmoving. His eyes, although trained forward, seemed to be not fully there. A misty reflection had settled over his lilac irises.

The intermission lasted for a few beats of seconds. His mouth effortlessly shifts up into a cat-like grin. He turns his head back to you and straightens his posture, his signature tophat tips back slightly. His eyes conveyed excitement as the lilac once again seemed as vivid during his performance.

He was no longer a still freshwater lake, but instead a lively and winding river.

“Which is why you’ll get the best tour of Fontaine by yours truly! Mark my words when I said I’d leave you dazzled today, for I Lyney will see to it that you have nothing but laughs and smiles upon your lovely face, mon cher.~” He declared proudly.

You felt dazed. A warm bubbly feeling began to infest your chest. It was very much like when he placed a kiss to the back of your hand.

You smiled happily at his declaration. “Thank you for listening to me. And also..”

You couldn’t help the hot sensation over the apples of your cheeks or your muted heart rate from your ears. Yet you persisted, not breaking away your gaze from him.

“Thank you for being with me today.”

Lyney’s confident facade had faltered ever so slightly for that moment. But he recuperated and mirrored your expression.

“It’s no problem at all, [Name].”

This was nice. He was nice. Despite knowing him for a little while, it felt as if you’d known him for much longer.

However, you barely knew anything about him other than he had a twin sister who was coincidentally his assistant and that he was a popular performer in Fontaine.

It irked you a bit, but you wouldn’t voice this opinion out loud. It is as people said, once you learn the inner mechanism to a magic trick, the magic itself is lost and you're left to face the raw and sometimes cruel trick.

You wouldn’t question why he went quiet. You wouldn’t question if he himself felt similar. You wouldn’t question why his demeanor sometimes felt too whimsical to be true. You didn’t want to ruin the mood. And you didn’t want to linger on the thought any longer.

You both went to many shops, Lyney had insisted you try out anything that caught your fancy. And if you liked it, to get it! Of course you were on a travel budget, but you did end up purchasing two items.

Your favorite stop however was the Hat Boutique. Lyney had a rather interesting insight on what headwear would ‘shape a face better’.

“Hm, you could probably store triple the amount of props in this one.” He studied a scarlet red top hat that looked suspiciously similar to the one he owns. He then looked over to another hat sitting on a display. “But that one brings out my petite and charming face more.”

He turned to face you. “ Help me out here [Name], should I go with this one or that one?”

You looked between the two options, narrowing your eyes and looked closely at the detailings. You looked at Lyney’s face and imagined how he’d look with either on.

“If you want my opinion, why not go with this one.” You walked over to a particular Hat you saw as you were pursuing. It was a Fedora like hat in a rich dark violet color; it looked more like an inky black purple. It had a gray sash wrapped around it that shined slightly silver when the sun hit.

“ It looks nice, and the material feels smooth to the touch. The color brings out your eyes too.” You said as you held up the hat for him to look.

“Oh my, aren't you the charmer?” He smirked playfully.

You avert your eyes to the aisles of material and color, “ It’s just an astute observation is all.”

He took the hat off your hands and studied it. “ Color me impressed! You have quite the eye for fashion mon cherie.” He sent you a proud smile and his eyes glowed with pride.

You shook your head. “ I work full time at a small shop remember, so picking up on the interest of buyers is a skill I’ve gained. I wouldn’t say I’m a fashion expert.” You felt the corner of your lips twitch up into a little smile.

“Are you going to tell me what you mean by that?”

“What do I mean by what?” He repeated your question blinking owlishly

You pouted. You got the feeling he was doing it on purpose.

“The nickname? You refer to me by that sometimes. What does it mean?”

Lyney thought for two seconds before his mouth formed an o shape in realization. He gave you an innocent close eyed smile. “ That’s a secret~! But, I have faith you’ll figure out what it means on your own.”

You gasped and brought a hand to your heart. “ How do I know you're not calling me a mean name? What a cruel scheme to pull one over me like that!” You whisper yelled in an over the top voice of hurt.

His shoulders tensed. Lyney suddenly became the slightest bit flustered. He shook his head, “I-I would never! Honest! I can assure you it doesn’t mean anything like that.”

You let out a quiet snicker. You found it adorable really. He suddenly became embarrassed despite the brimming confidence he usually carries himself in.

After purchasing the hat, he decided to keep his signature cat still on but suggested making a stop by his house to leave the newly purchased hat.

“ It won’t be long I promise! It’s just that, I wouldn’t want it to get weathered by bringing it around with us today. You did end up choosing it and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to it.” He reasoned.

It was a small but cute home. It was built in a typical style that the main city carried; geometric edges, a very advanced looking outdoor light, and a beautiful door with a stained window.

“Wait here okay! I promise I’ll be in and out before you can tell I left.” He quickly spoke as he jogged over to the front door. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as he sped off.

So you stood outside. You looked around, and spotted a potted plant.

CLANK TICK CLANK

The sharp sounds of metal and objects clashing made you sharply look at the direction it came from. You suddenly felt a bit confused.

The door swung open and you were expecting to see the charming magician. Instead it was a boy running out the door. He spotted you and suddenly skidded to a sudden stop.

“...”

He had a giant metal helmet next to him. He had ash blonde hair that almost covered the left side of his face. His apparel reminded you of a sailor.

He just stared at you and stepped back a bit. His form seemed slightly shrunken and he held his helmet thing closer to him. Not wanting wrong assumptions to be made you sent the boy the most casual smile you could.

“ Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just waiting on a friend, said he had to drop off something. He should be back any minute.”

The boy didn’t say anything, and just nodded. And he stood there. Unmoving.

Some glances at you and back to the floor.

He taps around his helmet.

Well this was awkward. Should you make small talk?

“Er, cool helmet. What is it for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The boy nervously glanced at you from the corner of his eye. His eyes were a very vibrant blue color. He didn’t answer for a while. You purse your lips feeling bad. Maybe the silence was better.

“ving…” You barely heard it. You look over back to the boy.

“Diving..a diving helmet.” He spoke quietly. He didn’t make eye contact as his eyes were glued to the floor.

“Diving? As in underwater?” You spoke with some bubbling curiosity. Before the boy could react, the door opened again.

“ I am here! Haha, sorry. That may have taken a bit longer than I thought. I hope you didn’t get too bored while I was away.” Lyney announced himself. He no longer had the hat box with him and he scratched the nape of his neck.

He noticed the other blonde boy.

“Hm? Ah, Freminet! Where are you off to today?”

Oh, he knows him? You thought, glancing between the two.

“I was on my way to the beach.” The young man known as Freminet spoke. His voice sounded soft yet slightly raspy, perhaps he wasn’t used to talking much you figured.

Lyney approached you and eagerly motioned for you to join in the conversation.

“ [Name], allow me to introduce you to my little brother, Freminet. Freminet, this is my new friend [Name]. They were the ones to share the spotlight with me and Lynette during last evening’s show.” Lyney proudly chirped.

Freminet looked a lot less tense. “Oh, yeah. I remember. You rambled on about that show, saying how well they-”

Lyney coughed loudly. You look over at the magician with a raised eyebrow.

There on his pale face was the smallest smidgen of a rosy color. Freminet immediately hushed. But he had a small nervous smile on his face.

“ I’m sorry If I seemed quiet just now.” Fremeniet now said addressing you. “ I recognized you from your appearance, but I didn’t know what to talk about. Or If you would find me odd for knowing about you.”

You shook your head, understanding the full picture now made you feel a bit more reassured. “ Don’t worry about it, really. But, it’s nice to meet you, Freminet.”

You turned to face Lyney who looked a lot more relaxed. “ So you have two siblings? What a nice family you three are! There probably isn’t a shortage of banter or boredom then.”

Lyney chuckled. “ Well, I’m usually the one who does most of the talking. I’m the eldest so it's my duty.”

“Sometimes you take it a bit too far and become a blabber mouth.” A familiar voice suddenly joined the conversation. Looking about you were met with another familiar face.

“Hey Lynette.” You sent the twin a little friendly wave. She turned to you. Smiling a little and returning it, albeit more lazy.

“Really? You see me as a blabber mouth? But Lynette, I mustn't let the audience’s cheers and support fall on deaf ears. Especially that our friend [Name] here has been on a grand tour with me as their guide.” Lyney ground proudly as he placed both his hands on his hips.

“Whatever you say. But, you’ve been taking them on a tour? How come you didn’t invite me to tag along?” Lynette deadpanned.

Huh? You tilted your head in confusion and furrowed your brow. Didn’t Lyney mention earlier that his sister was busy. Lyney must have felt the obvious sudden awkward tension placed upon him as his shoulder tensed and he chuckled nervously.

“A-ah, b-but dear sister, you see since you were busy in the early time of today I didn’t wish to trouble you, so I took it upon myself to show them around. Hehe, please don’t be mad at me.” Lyney stuttered out all while looking at Lynette as he brought his hat closer to his chest.

Lynette sighed and shook her head before she turned to you with a laid back expression.

“ I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble, [Name]. He can go a little too far sometimes but that’s just Lyney being Lyney.”

“Hey! I’m right here you know.” Lyney whined sadly. Lynette didn’t bother to look at him and Freminet had turned his head to the side. His shoulder’s bounced and looked like he was suppressing a giggle.

“ It’s really okay. More than okay really. Lyney has been nothing but kind and patient with me. He is a good listener and always manages to make me smile and laugh!” You said happily.

Lynette’s deep violet eyes got slightly bigger with confusion and curiosity. Lyney stood beside you and took a quick glance at your direction. It was quiet for a moment. You suddenly became a bit nervous, was there something wrong you said?

Lyney laughed heartily as he threw an arm over your shoulders. “You see! Take it from them, that I never let my audience down!” You quickly glanced in his direction, not minding the close contact. You could see some red culminating around the tips of his ear and beneath his eyes.

“Well that's good to know.” Lynette crossed her arms.

“ We must get going, the daylight is short so we mustn't waste it idlying.” Lyney said. Before you two left Lyney sent his siblings goodbye. “Take care Lynette, remember to be on alert alright? And Freminet, remember to get back home before curfew! I was about to dive into the waters last time you had forgotten about time.”

“ Okay.”

“Of course.”

Lynette and Freminet replied in unison.

“ Looks like we’re on the move again. I hope to be able to spend time with you Lynette.” You said. You wanted to get to know this family better. Lynette was blunt and to the point but you could tell she cared about the people closest to her.

Lynette nodded and her lips curled up into a small but sincere smile. You turned to Freminet.

“ It was nice to meet you, Freminet. If we ever meet again, would you mind explaining diving to me? It sounds interesting.”

Freminet tensed slightly but managed to nod in agreement.

“ Bye Bye! Take care!”

After you two had left, Lynette turned to Fremeinet with a pensive look.

“ Freminet, do you think our older brother is perhaps getting attached to them?”

“ I don’t know. But, he really seems to like their company. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him being this flustered in the presence of someone else.”

Lynette hummed. “ I hope he knows what he’s attempting to get himself into. Out of all of us, he knows what kind of situation we’re in.”

Freminet was quiet as he fidgeted with the nails and guards on his helmet.

“ Do you think that [Name] would like Per?”

Lynette glanced at Freminet with an unreadable expression. She stood still and thought of last evening's performance.

“Did... Did you go into idle mode?”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“ I think [Name] would find Per cute.”

The rest of the day was spontaneous. From a walk by the sea shore, trying out pastries and free samples, Lyney explaining Fontaine history and technology.

It was now close to night time and you were both currently walking through the garden close to the Opera House. The road towards the Opera House was beautiful, ever since you first came here a day prior. You had almost ran late to the Magic show seeing as to how pretty it was. The carved marble statues, the beds of wildflowers beyond the decorative iron railing, and not to mention the fountains. Water was almost everywhere you’d look, it was a given as this was the nation of Hydro.

“Well, today was certainly a fun day.” You spoke softly. You looked up into the sky. It was the final rays of daylight and the sky was a beautiful swatch of evening gradience. All of the orange, blues and reds bled right into each other.

The water beyond mirrored the sky. The land was akin to a watercolor tray, a smokey mixture of cool and warm colors.

“Thankyou, again for taking time out of your day to guide me through the nation’s cities. You didn’t need to know?” You walked alongside Lyney who was too admiring the sky.

“Nonsense. I took you on this little journey because I wanted to. It was one of my prop cards that called to you, yes?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes but-”

“And you answered. You could have very well ignored it, even kept the card as a souvenir. But you didn’t. And that choice led you to today.” He spoke calmly.

You said nothing. Lyney was a stubborn man, no matter how many times you could protest against his kindness he would fire back with a reasonable explanation.

“ The card, how did you manage to put it into my sleeve?”

Lyney grinned like a bobcat. “ Uh uh my dear, a magician never reveals his trade secrets.” He mused teasingly.

“ Of course.” You sighed, giving up.

“Have you always had a talent in magic? In performing?”

Lyney finally turned his head to glance at you. Skipping ahead of you, he manages to turn his whole body towards you.

“ If you must know, It is a rags to riches tale!” He exclaimed as he bellowed out his arms dramatically in front of him.

“ As a young lad, me and Lynette were street performers. Everyday little crowds of people would congregate around us on the side of the street. Card tricks, Flower tricks, and even the feathered friends would aid in our little shows.” He exclaimed as he walked backwards.

“We would give it our all and Mora would rain down upon us.” He spoke with a triumphant smile on his face. He slowed down his pace and you managed to catch up. He was now walking next to you like before.

“ You could guess the rest. We eventually became so well renowned, we were able to afford high end venues and quality equipment for our shows. And soon we went from paupers to famed actors.”

You had listened carefully. Despite his colorful disposition, the underlying tone of his small backstory felt off.

“ I’m sorry you had to go through such tribulation. It must have been tough on the two of you early on.” You frowned. Although he framed the tale as a dramatic novel, the implication that he and lynette had been living in the streets tugged at your heart.

He did say when he was a lad, so this probably must have happened while they were both children. Where were their parents? The rest of their family? You decided to stave off these questions as they could be delicate.

Lyney had gone quiet for a moment. He smiled warmly at you. “ It’s alright. There is no need to feel sad for us. That is long in the past now. And besides…” He grinned widely. “ I think a smile would suit your lovely face more!”

He took off his hat and dug around it and pulled out a curious plant. It was a glowing blue color and its shape resembled a pearl. It shined a mixture of a translucent lilac and ocean blue.

He outstretched it out to you. You went ahead and tapped the leaves that looked like sea shells. The flower suddenly released some bubbles. The translucent orbs floated around you. You couldn’t help but pop a few, some giggles escaping you as you whirled around.

Lyney chuckled. “ I did promise you that I would keep that smile on your lips followed by the melody of your laughter.”

“ I-” You brought a hand up to your face. Your heart suddenly began to beat as if you had just ran a distance.

Why did his words have to feel so..so..like this? Why did it feel as if what he said was true? Would that explain why your heart feels like it would sprout wings and fly away any moment?

You were positive your face was burning up. You coughed into your hand.

“You did, didn't you? Thank you for the reminder.” You had managed to sputter out. You heard the soft chuckling of the magician. The flower was no wear to be seen, he must’ve vanished it away when you weren’t paying attention.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, [Name].” He had a lopsided grin. Lyney was a cheeky man, a person with a silver tongue. He was a conman. And yet…

He managed to make you feel like you had a tornado of butterflies in your stomach all the time.

You were left speechless, as you both continued to walk down a few more minutes. You both made it to the Opera. In front of the opera was a bigger fountain, and a few pairs of people were collected around it.

You went up to the fountain, interested to see it up close. In the water collected at the bottom, you could make out a few glittering coins of Mora beneath the water. You heard a few steps up behind you and guess Lyney must’ve followed you.

“ People wish at this fountain, right? What for?” You looked around at the elegant structure. The reflected moonlight in the water gleamed against the little gold accents around its edges.

“ Fontainians come to this fountain to wish about anything, really. Better fortune, health, and happiness. But mostly, people come to this specific fountain for love or hopes for a healthy baby.” Lyney answered, his hands behind his back.

‘Hmm, the pairs of people make sense now.’ You thought as you glanced around the area. Satisfied you walk around the front of the Opera house. The fountains shooting water high into the air makes you wanna take a closer look. Leaning into the thin railing your eyes stayed glued to the water.

You could feel a ghost coolness of the falling mist from the tall fountain.

Although it was a fun outing today, you had ran around almost everywhere in the nation. Lyney in toe with you, making you ignore the aches you felt for doing so much in such a short time. Now in this still moment, all your tiredness was catching up to you.

Lyney must have noticed, as his lilac eyes flitted between your face and the fountain ahead.

“ Hey, want to see something cool?”

You turned your head over to the cheeky magician with a brow raised.

With your attention now on him, he took off his hat. You leaned more on your arm against the railing with a warm smile. Half expecting him to pull out something out of his hat again, he did something else. He shook it in front of him, emptying it out of nothing. Nothing left the hat.

Lyney hummed aloud. “Hmm, I was sure I had it stored in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

“No no. I was sure It was in here.” He pouted as he now looked in, under and above his tophat. It was rather cute.

He eventually gave up and placed it back on his head. “ You might be right, maybe it slipped out while we were on the aqua-”

Just as he was about to finish, something dangled in front of his face. It moved from side to side, as if it was dusting off his face. Upon a closer look, It looked like a cat tail.

The look on Lyney’s face was endearing, his lilac eyes had dilated in surprise and followed the tail.

“Ah, there it is!” The hat suddenly lifted up his head, floating just above.

To your surprise, you see a smaller tophat along two little black ears pop out. Two little black bean paws followed, grabbing along the inner rim of Lyney’s hat.

Pop

“!!!”

You finally saw its face. It was a black cat with mismatched eyes of a droplet and star. It had a permanent toothy grin on its face. It wiggled in the hat and turned itself to look down at you.

“?!!”

You could make out the red bow behind its back. You weren’t sure what to do so you waved at the cat. It moved its small pudgy body around the hat and twitched its tiny ears.

“!!!”

Lyney let out a giggle at the interaction. “ Aww, I think he likes you.” He managed to grab his floating hat by the rim and brought it down in front of him. The cat in the hat seemed bothered and was now looking up at you. Its tiny hat was slightly tipped back.

“Can I pet it?” You asked almost too excitedly.

“Since you asked, of course! He is a bit mischievous but a glutton for attention.” He mused, side eyeing down on the cat.

You gingerly brough your hand down onto the cat. Its surface was surprisingly smooth yet soft, and the cat wiggled towards your touch. It’s two little ears ducked back as it seemed to love the attention it was given. It’s face never changed, however.

“ Does it have a name?” You asked as you kept petting it. Lyney nodded and smiled.

“ It’s a Grin-Malkin cat! I’m sure you're quite familiar with it, as it’s not only a prop for Lynette and I’s show, but our cute mascot.” He said.

“Prop?” You asked slightly confused. So it wasn’t alive? Then how did it move so life-like?

“ The Grin-Malkin cat is a puppet, but its movements are based off of a real cat.” He said.

You smiled, but kept petting the cute kitty. Even if it was just a puppet, the cat seemed to have a familiar personality. Its little paws stuck out, and one came up to ‘attack’ your finger. You quietly giggled at its playfulness.

“ So, cats are a part of your show’s soul huh?” You asked.

“ If it wasn’t that obvious, yes.” He said with a charming smile.

“ ‘Based on a real cat’, so who was the lucky cat this little bean was based on?” You asked curiously.

“ When Lynette and I were street performers, we managed to run into a lot of stray cats. Lynette was shy, so most of them got along with her.” He said as he looked down to Grin-Malkin.

“But, there was one troublesome cat. He kept on running off with my hat. Apparently, it made for a better cat bed than anything. He would be curled up inside when I found it.”

“ Eventually, I thought of replacing my old friend with a new hat. A hat that wouldn’t disappear when I didn’t tell it so. But, me and the cat came to a mutual agreement. I would bring him along to the show as a replica puppet!” He said with a proud smile. It slightly faltered however as he continued.

“During one particular performance, there was a little mishap that happened. I had forgotten a card in my deck and the trick required that one card that I misplaced.”

You winced at the second hand embarrassment. “Talk about bad luck. What did you do?” You asked. The kitty that you were petting now turned around to look up at Lyney. It looked interesting in his story. So now, it was you and the cat’s eyes on Lyney.

“Well, as I was coming up with an improvised outcome, out came this little guy.” He motioned down to the cat.

“!!!” It bounced slightly in the hat as the attention now was on it.

“ He had the card that I had misplaced and was able to save the show. And ultimately, make it better. The crowd and even I wasn’t expecting such an outcome.” He shook his head.

“Aww, so he became the star of the show.” You laughed.

“!!!” The cat whirled around to face you again and puffed out its chest in pride.

Lyney laughed alongside you. “ That’s one way to put it.”

Once you calmed down you noticed that you didn’t feel as tired anymore.

“ It looks like today is coming to a close.” Lyney said as he looked around. There were now very few people outside, and the sky had turned darker than earlier. The magician tapped the tiny tophat on the cat.

“Before today the curtains come to a close, let me send you off with a grand finale.” He whispered.

The Grin-Malkin cat wiggled its tail and his paw came up to the brim of its own hat. The cat tipped its tophat to you before Lyney grabbed his own and placed it back atop it’s hat.

“With your permission, could you close your eyes for me.” He said as he leaned in close to you, his hands behind his back.

“Okay?” You smiled nervously.

You shut your eyes and saw darkness. You could still hear the rushing of water and a faint sound of chirping crickets.

“Okay, no peeking until I tell you too.” You heard the magician.

You waited for what would happen. You felt someone get closer to you. The ghostly presence of someone close to your face. You refrained from moving, yet your heart began to pick up its pace.

You felt something warm touch your cheek, and something soft tickle your ear. At the same time you felt stiffer material tap against you above your head.

It came as quickly as it went, as you felt a small breeze and you could no longer feel the close presence.

“Okay, open your eyes now.” You heard Lyney say.

You opened and saw the magician in front of you with a warm smile.

“Do you feel anything different? Perhaps something is missing!” He said in a cheery tone.

Your hand reached up to where you felt something earlier.

“Huh?”

There was something behind your ear. Carefully, your fingers outstretched and touched something soft. It was a delicate circlet of petals connected to a smooth stem. Looking up from the corner of your eye, you spotted a blur of prisma like colors.

A blurb of pink and pastel yellow.

“ A rose? How?” You quietly questioned.

“Mhm!” Lyney nodded enthusiastically. “ That is a rainbow rose. A beautiful flower that grows wild only within Fontaine.”

“Ah, thank you! It’s really pretty and soft.” You delicately felt a petal. Beneath the bloom, there were smaller outstretched petals that pressed against your temple.

“ Have you found it yet? The thing I stole from you.” Lyney asked, tilting his head to the side.

You glanced back at him confused. You didn’t feel anything missing from you, as you checked your packets and around your person.

Lyney’s eyes followed your attempts to look for the missing something, slightly amused.

“Given up yet?”

You really couldn’t find anything off.

“ Is this a trick question, because I don’t feel like anything was taken.” You asked.

Lyney raised a closed hand next to his face. He smirked mischievously.

“How strange, because I have something of yours in the palm of my hand.” He teased me. “I’ll give you one more chance, could you guess what it is?”

You nodded. You guessed it was either a prop card or maybe some mora.

“ I give up, what is it?”

Lyney opened his palm and there was…

Nothing.

“Ta-da! The thing I stole from you was your attention.” He exclaimed with glee. He walked over to me and extended his hand over to me.

“Here you go, you can have it back now!”

…

This little-

You may have had the tiniest urge to smack his shoulder. Shaking off that urge, you huffed and played along. Once you reached his hand to get your ‘attention’ back, his finger’s gently encased your hand.

He bowed down dramatically and kissed the back of your palm.

Very discreetly, he cracked one eye open and glanced up at you. You had frozen in place and with a flustered face you could only stare.

He had the gall to smirk and send you a wink.

There was an odd sense of Dejavu, the memory of when you were approached by him after the magic show that evening.

“And it seems that…I have stolen your heart as well ma chérie.” Lyney whispered.

He gently let your hand fall back to your side as he stood back up. He had an innocent smile on his face.

You just stared at him completely dazed.

It was quiet for a very. Long. Second.

Lyney’s pale face slowly became redder and redder although he did not move.

The awkwardness was beginning to thicken and soon Lyney couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ahem…Ahaha hah haa... D-Did you get it? Because I had you focused on me the entire time so I stole your attention right under your nose. And now I just did a chivalrous act to make you feel flustered! I didn’t go too far again did I?” He muttered as he brought a hand to his mouth and averted his eyes.

His rambling snapped you out of your dazed phase and you suddenly became very aware as to how hot your face was. Lyney being in some sort of distress in front of you made you sputter out.

“Nononono, It’s fine! I was surprised, very surprised actually…er that was a nice trick there, very smart. So don’t worry about it.” You went ahead and leaned forward from the railing to look back at the fountain. Lyney might have gotten the message because he did the same.

After a few minutes of cooling down, you turned your head to look at Lyney and see if he was alright. His lilac eyes spotted you out of the corner, and he ducked under the brim of his hat.

“I think it’s getting late, I’ll take the Aquabus back to the main city.” You said, there was a small tight feeling in your chest. You were sad as to how fast the day went, how fast you had to say goodbye.

“Let me walk you back to the station then. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let you walk back on your own this late.” Lyney offered, his voice sincere.

And so you did. The walk back was slightly quieter. Again, he became uncharacteristically quiet.

Was it because of what happened earlier? Did he feel like he did something wrong?

“You know I had fun today, right?” You began.

“It was very kind of you to take me on a tour around the city. I got to learn about the nation, eat good food, spoil myself with samples and sweets, and saw many hats I didn’t even know existed.” you slightly laughed. You heard him laughing quietly too.

“ I met your siblings, met your prop cat and I got to meet you in last evening's show.”

You might’ve never gone out today if you hadn’t met Lyney.

You might’ve never got to know his family if you hadn’t met Lyney.

You might’ve never gotten to meet Lyney like this if you weren’t picked to participate in the final act.

The more you thought about it, the more you became grateful that for some miracle of coincidence you were picked from the audience.

“I’m really happy that I met you. You made my time here in Fontaine feel magical. I’ll keep this day close to my heart, if that’s okay with you.” You smiled happily, the giddy feeling making you feel all sorts of floaty.

Lyney said nothing, only humming in approval.

Once you had gotten to the station, there was already a bus sitting there. The tour guide, or Melusine as you later found out, was sitting and leaning against the bus. Once it heard the sound of footsteps it sat up quickly, it’s tall ears snapping up.

“Ah! Oh, all aboard the bus! No wait, that’s not it..uh- everyone boarding please be careful with your arms, feet and legs inside the boat!” It spoke, half asleep.

You turn to Lyney. “ Are you going to go back to the main city?”

He shook his head.

“ No, I think I’m going to go back to the Opera house. I hate to be the naggy brother, but I just want to make sure Lynette didn’t forget any of the props backstage.”

“ Oh alright. I guess this is goodbye then.”

You had the urge to hug him. You weren’t sure how busy the Magician might be tomorrow, but somewhere in the back of your mind you believed you wouldn’t see him again for a while. The thought once again made your chest feel tight.

“ I believe so.” Lyney said quietly.

Well, no point in delaying your leave.

“Wha- HEY!” You heard Lyney yelp, and quickly you turn back to see what happened. His hat was off its what and seemed to zoom over to you.

The Grin-Malkin cat drove the Top hat like some dune buggy as now right side up was swirled with pyro elemental energy.

The grinning cat raced in the sky towards you, there wasn’t enough time to get out of the way so you braced for impact. But it never came.

The hat had swerved around you, drifting mid air as the cat kept facing you.

Suddenly the thing nudged itself into your face, the Grin-Malkin cat rubbing its pudgy dark body against you. You could almost hear purrs.

“ Hello, nice to see you again.” You giggled as its ears tickled your chin. Wrapping an arm around it you used the other to scratch above its head.

“!!!”

Lyney got closer and smiled nervously. “ I think he likes you too much. It never usually takes off on it’s own.”

He bent slightly down to be on the hat’s level and he put both his hands on his hip.

“Hey now! Come on, back up here alright?” he tried to sound like a scolding parent.

“!!!” The cat shook its tail in his face.

“I’m serious. C’mon, back on Lyney’s head” He pointed to his hat-less head of hair.

“!!!” The cat dug itself deeper into your embrace.

Lyney frowned. “ I know you like [Name], but they really have to go. It could be dangerous for them to be out in the streets this late. The sooner you let them go, the sooner they’ll go back safely.” He reasoned with a reassuring tone of voice.

The cat retracted itself from your hold and glanced down at Lyney. Having made up its mind the cat’s paws extended to you.

You tapped them both. “ Lyney’s right. I have to go. I’ll miss you too.” You leaned down and pressed a small peck on the robotic cat’s forehead.

It wiggled and a paw came up to its hat and brought it down in an attempt to hide its face. Although its features couldn’t exactly express, it looked to be shy.

Lyney had noticed and brought a hand up to his mouth to cover his snickers.

The cat then ducked into the hat, disappearing from view. You looked inside the hat and it was empty.

Grabbing it from in front of you, you flipped it right side up.

“Here, let me help.” You raised it above Lyney’s head. Slowly you set it down and secure it in its place. All the while doing it, Lyney had his soft lilac eyes on your face.

Fixing the hat a bit, you dusted off any dirt that may have gotten on it. “There we go! Now you look as sharp as you usually do.” You grinned.

You didn’t notice but when you smiled, especially at such close proximity, Lyney couldn’t stop the flush of color rising in his face.

You kept staring at his hat and his face as well to see if anything was out of place.

Without realizing your hands hover just above his arms. You weren’t sure if this was right. Maybe ... .Everything was going a step too far. Just as you were gonna reel back, Lyney raised his hands to hover right beneath your arms.

Without saying much but a nod, you hugged.

His cape felt soft, and his arms held you with care and protectiveness. You smiled as your face dug into his shoulder. You felt the hard material of the brim bump your temple.

He smelled like flowers and ash. An odd combination yet somewhat comforting.

For what felt like a full day, you two finally separated. He had a warm and sincere smile on his face.

Most of his smiles are bright grins that could light up a room.

But somehow after a while the spark is lost, and the smiles feel all the same. But this one, the one you saw before your eyes. No, this was different.

The kind of smile that was not rehearsed nor under scrutiny of the captive audience’s eye.

This one felt raw, special, authentic.

It made him look beautiful.

Realizing you were staring, you stepped back.

“ I….really think I need to go, or the Melusine will go back to sleep.” You turned on your heel and headed towards the boarding area. Before you left you took a big breath in. the cold air of the night and mist sending a current of energy through you.

As you were about to step on the bus, you heard him walk behind you.

“When will you be leaving?”

“What?”

“When will you be leaving? You said you were here on holiday, so when will you go back?” He asked.

You stopped and thought. When will I go back?

Go back.

Do I want to go back?

Can I go back after having a taste of what the world is outside of what I once knew?

“I leave in two days. Two days, yes.” You managed to say out almost in a flat voice.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, you hadn;t turn your back to face him.

I want to see you again.

“ No reason in particular. I just thought you would be around to watch me and my sister perform in three days at the courts theater.” He said, there was a cheapness to his voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go. I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, Sounds like it.” Lyney dejectedly said.

You step onto the bus and Melusine shoots up on it’s tiny feet.

“ Leaving Marcotte Station!” They yelled. You sat down on one of the benches. You didn;t have the heart to look at Lyney as the bus started to move along the river.

You did however outstretched your hand behind your ear. The rose was still there.

“ Ah, a rainbow rose? Oh oh! Did you have someone propose to you?” the Mesuline asked.

“Wh-What?! What do you mean by ‘propose?!’ ” You shrieked. The Melusine set comfy on top it’s little pedestal.

“Oopsie, I’m sorry you probably don’t know the rumored implications of that rose do you?” They asked, tilting their head as their ears flopped to the side.

You shook your head.

“Well, since you're my only passenger for tonight, I suppose it’s okay for me to add on to the guidelines. And I’m tired right now.” It yawned.

“ When someone gifts you a Rainbow Rose, much like the one on you, it usually symbolizes passion and romantic encounters. It’s very common for couples here to gift each other a single rainbow rose or a bouquet of a dozen roses as a way to express their devotion to one another.” The Melusine mused.

“Oh.”

“ But it’s also used to express platonic love for a dear friend or family. Flower gifting is a language that revolves around love no matter which kind.” It said happily.

It hummed a little tune, and the boat sailed along.

“ But for it to be placed behind the ear, someone may be interested in you. Romantically I mean, haha.”

Oh dear…you might realize what the nickname he gave you means now.

“Ah- AHCHOO!” You covered your face as you sneezed.

“ Bless you!” the Melusine said.

You sniffled. Maybe it was the cold.

Lyney had stood there watching the Aquabus get farther and farther away. He had his hat to his chest.

He quickly placed his hat back on his head and walked back to the garden path.

There was no one around. He was alone.

Had his siblings made it back home yet? Probably.

The steps of his boots bore a fast and rhythmic pattern as he stepped.

His lips were in a flat line. His mind was preoccupied on many things.

His sister, his brother, the rest of his siblings, “Father” and you.

You. He shook his head.

He had a blast today. Although he had known Fontaine all his life, he practically lived on the stone walkways for a good part of his life, he never saw it like he did today. It felt new to him, a wondrous view!

Like that of an innocent curious child. Something that he never thought he would experience ever in his life.

He snapped away the thought.

He made it past the fountain in front of the Opera House. Getting past the gates and the lonely lobby he made it into the audience area.

He had met you here.

From when he was looking for a willing participant, he spotted you amongst the sea of eager people.

He spotted you. You weren’t a local, perhaps a tourist. You intrigued him.

Foreigner’s often brought in the best source of intel. A web of secrets and truths hidden beneath the veil of illusions. The normal people and Magicians were similar in that aspect, despite the other living in ignorance.

He never would have expected you to complete the trick well. Oftentimes, stage fright took a hold of the non troupe assistance, some on the spot improv would be on set in case the trick went off the rails.

That is why Lyney wouldn’t often pick from the audience. It was a rare occasion.

He would seek you out. Get you into a sense of comfortability, his silver tongue had a way of making people profess their hearts out to him.

The world was a stage to him, and thus he must always perform his best. At least, that is what “Father” told him.

You didn’t have much useful information. He was hoping for something more scandalous or perhaps a secret you were ashamed of. Instead, you were just some person seeking out the world that you never had stepped foot in despite being born into it.

And yet.

Lyney sat down on one of the cushy seats of the audience area. He crossed on foot atop the other.

Why had he stayed with you today?

Perhaps he was afraid of seeing you upset if he left suddenly to shop for props he needed.

Maybe, he didn’t want to go back on his promise he made to you backstage.

Maybe, he didn’t want to see your angry face if you found out the initial reason he asked you out.

Lyney looked around, his eyes wandered to the stage. No one was performing. It was empty. The spotlight wasn’t shining down. It was devoid and completely useless to its intended purpose at the moment.

Lyney had purposefully left out key information when you had asked about his background in magic.

You didn’t need to know of the desperate times where he pushed through with a smile while the tummies of he and his sister gurgled for food.

You didn’t need to know the cruelty of Nobility and their disgusting greed and wicked selfishness.

You didn’t need to know about the House and the Fatui.

And you didn’t need to know about “Father”.

Lyney exhaled.

All of that would probably make you look down on him with disgust and fear. He much preferred to see a beautiful smile on you.

He didn’t need to see you again. You were useless to “Father”, to the grand scheme of he and his sibling’s mission. You would be a distraction, and distractions lead to silly avoidable mistakes.

Yes, that’s what “Father” would say to him.

And yet.

Lyney scrunched his face. He didn’t like feeling like this. He thought he was over this. After all, he had a home and a supportive family now. He shouldn't feel like this, he had his sister, little brother and the other younger ones to look after.

And yet he wanted to see you again.

You made him feel like he had freedom. It wasn’t like the one he was granted when he and Lynette were free from being street rats. And strangely enough, it wasn’t like the freedom “Father” granted him when she took him away from the cruel mansion.

He felt bliss with you. He felt like how the audience looked in the countless times he performed on stage.

Was that how it felt like to live normally? To live in bliss and ignore the world’s harsh reality, even for a few moments.

He used to stutter a lot as a young boy. Whenever his juvenile performances went wrong or a slip of the tongue in pronouncing large words.

Yet he seemed to awfully flustered around you a lot of the time.

He even gave you a Rainbow Rose of all things.

It’s what felt the most appropriate he thought.

“ Oh no..”

The realization hit him like a Mitachurl’s Axe.

“ Father is definitely going to kill me if she ever finds out about this. Lynette might as well.” He cried.

“ACHOO!”

“Ugh, I should’ve gotten out of the port sooner. I might come down with a cold.” He sniffled.

‘Maybe someone’s thinking of me.’ He thought.

Before you went into your room, you had asked the reception for a vase you could borrow. They immediately noticed the flower on you and gave you a sneaky glance. Ignoring them, you went and filled the vase with water.

Before going to bed you placed the rose in the vase, on your nightstand so when the morning came it would get sun.

The last thing you saw when you fell into slumber was the rose. The memory of that charming magician is still vivid in your mind.

Perhaps, you could delay your trip back home.

After all,

He did steal your heart and had yet to give it back.

A/N: CWNCWNCONCON I WAS KICKING MY FEET AND CRYING WHEN I WORTE SOME PARTS CBKEBCIB The Fonatine siblings have a choke hold on me fr. Fontaine water giving that same energy that 3 am cold crispy tap water- I'm now tempted to make a Lynette x F!Reader fluff were they have a nice little tea party and make paper flower arrangements like cottage core girlfriends Tags: @b0rninh3ll @yukiaei @xiaossocksniffer @nayumeas @scarletrosesposts @sol3chu @rionah @jar-03

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pascaloverx · 3 months ago

Text

stockholm syndrome

Summary: You’ve just started working at a local diner, where whispers swirl about the disappearance of the previous waitress. While some believe she simply grew weary of her ordinary life, the mystery surrounding her vanishing lingers. On your first day, a man with piercing blue eyes catches your eye. His name is Titus, and he was a frequent customer of the missing waitress.

Author's Note: This fanfic will romanticize abduction; please be aware of this. It may also include violence and inappropriate language. This fanfic features characters from the short film Regulars (2023).

one three

TWO

As you mull over the countless scenarios that could unfold during your first date with Titus, your mind races with questions about how to behave, what to wear, and whether or not you’re making the right choice. After all, your last romantic encounter ended poorly, with someone trying to take things further than you were comfortable with before even reaching the table. Titus, however, feels different. He seems genuinely sweet, but the idea of stepping into his personal space, his home, has you second-guessing. The fear that he might change once in a more familiar setting lingers, though you know deep down it’s probably just paranoia.

In the end, you decide on the red dress your mother gave you, the one she insisted would make you irresistible to any potential suitor. It’s bold, seductive even, but you can’t deny that it feels right for tonight. You hope it gives you the confidence you need—because beneath all the uncertainty, one thing is clear: you’re about to step into something new, and maybe, just maybe, it will be different this time.

Titus had given you a note with his address, and whether by chance or fate, you discovered he lived just a few blocks away from your own home. Dressed in your red dress and a black coat, you opted to walk, enjoying the crisp evening air as you made your way. Along the route, you decided to stop by a small flower shop, picking up a bouquet of sunflowers. They reminded you of him—Titus was like the sun just before it set, almost hidden by the clouds yet still present, casting a gentle, golden glow. The sunflowers felt symbolic, a reflection of his warmth and quiet presence. As you resumed your journey, the bouquet nestled securely in one arm, you clutched a bottle of rosé wine in the other—a thoughtful touch for the dinner you were about to share.

"I thought you'd stand me up," Titus says softly, surprising you by opening the door before you even had a chance to knock. You smile, raising the bouquet of sunflowers toward him as an explanation for your slight delay. His eyes widen briefly, and a gentle warmth spreads across his face as he takes in the bright, cheerful flowers.

"I would never leave you waiting, sir," you reply, stepping into his home. The warmth inside envelops you immediately, a sharp contrast to the freezing cold outside. Titus closes the door behind you, and the cozy atmosphere of his home greets you—a blend of soft, warm lighting and a subtle scent of something delicious cooking in the air.

"May I take your coat?" Titus asks, nervously adjusting his hair, a gesture you find endearing. He then extends his hands to help you remove your coat, though neither of you realizes at first that you're still holding the bouquet and the bottle of wine. Once he successfully helps with the coat, you begin scanning his home with your eyes, though you don’t dare move from where you stand.

"Your home feels so cozy and seems to have just the right amount of space for you," you remark, raising your voice slightly so Titus can hear you from where he is. "Actually, this house is..." Titus begins to say, but you can’t make out the last part of his sentence. It almost feels like he’s drifting farther away from where you are.

"Titus, dear, I can’t hear you," you call out as you slowly make your way to the kitchen, looking for a spot to set down the wine. The aroma of the food is delightful, though there’s still no sign of Titus, who seems to be taking his time to return. You notice a wooden counter in the kitchen and place the wine on it. While admiring the beautiful kitchen flooring, your gaze catches a polaroid photo lying on the floor beneath the sink.

The photo seems to show Titus with another woman, who appears to be wearing a uniform similar to yours from the diner. You can’t make out their expressions, and as you debate whether or not to pick it up, you hear footsteps approaching. Deciding against lingering, you return to where you were, still holding the sunflowers.

"Did I take too long?" Titus asks, standing there, clearly noticing your less-than-subtle attempt not to be caught snooping.

"Long enough for me to put the wine in your kitchen," you reply with an awkward smile, feeling like a child caught in the act.

"Apologies for the delay, I went to my room to fetch a gift I bought for you," Titus says as he hands you a small box wrapped in festive holiday paper. You're caught off guard by his gesture, and he gently takes the bouquet from your hand, replacing it with the box. "It’s a simple gift, but I chose it with care," Titus explains as you smile and begin unwrapping the little package.

"Titus, you didn’t have to get me anything, especially something that looks like it must’ve been expensive," you say, your voice touched with gratitude, as you unveil a bracelet adorned with a beautiful blue charm at its center. It’s absolutely stunning, and you can’t help but marvel at its elegance.

"May I put it on you?" Titus asks gently, seeming slightly less nervous than usual. You hand him the bracelet so he can fasten it around your wrist, and he does so with careful precision. The soft touch of his fingers against your skin as he clasps the bracelet momentarily distracts you, making the gesture feel more intimate than you expected.

"It's the first gift I've received since I arrived in the city," you say, trying not to sound overly dramatic.

"No one gave you anything for Christmas?" Titus asks softly, his tone cautious, as if afraid of hurting your feelings. Yet, there’s a faint trace of pity in his voice.

"Well... my mother and I aren’t on good terms, I’m new to the city, my coworkers basically think I should handle everything alone, and my boss may or may not have told me that if I left work early to visit you tonight, I didn’t need to bother coming back. So, no, there isn’t anyone right now who cares enough to give me anything," you reply, holding back the sudden sting of tears. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been until this moment.

Titus gently takes your hand and places a soft, meaningful kiss on it. The gesture is delicate yet carries so much weight. "You have me," he says with unexpected confidence, his usual shyness momentarily overcome.

You look at him, mesmerized, before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "That’s true. I do," you whisper, a warmth spreading through your chest.

A noise breaks the romantic atmosphere, alerting Titus that the food is ready. "Why don't you take a seat at the table while I bring our dinner over?" Titus suggests, and you make your way to the small dining table.

As you sit down, the image of the photo you saw on the kitchen floor flashes in your mind. You hesitate for a moment but decide to satisfy your curiosity. "So, not to be nosy, but did you know the waitress from the diner who disappeared?" You hadn't planned on asking, but the curiosity was too strong to ignore.

"The missing waitress..." He seems nervous, almost stumbling over his words. "Ah, yes, I vaguely remember her. She used to serve me at the diner," Titus says as he brings the food to the table. The aroma is delightful, and he carefully sets the dishes down.

"So, you never had any contact with her outside the diner?" you ask, keeping your tone light, though your thoughts are racing. You know that if he says no, he’d be lying—because while you didn’t pick up the photo, you saw enough to know it wasn’t taken at the diner, even if the woman was wearing her uniform. Or perhaps you’re just being paranoid.

"No, I didn't have any contact with her outside the diner. She was kind to me, I must admit, but until recently, I didn’t even think I had the courage to ask someone out," Titus responds as he hurries to grab the wine from the kitchen. He then begins serving the food at last.

"I made this dish for you. It's called cheesy bean and lentil bake, a dish mainly made with vegetables, beans, and other ingredients. I chose something meat-free because I wasn’t sure if you ate meat," he explains, watching you closely, clearly waiting to see if he made the right choice.

"I'm sure it's delicious; I'm just not certain if my wine will pair well with this lovely meal," you say, watching Titus pour wine for the two of you.

"I must admit, I wasn’t going to tell you, but your wine is still in the kitchen. We can enjoy it later with dessert, but I had already chosen a wine for tonight," Titus replies, and you nod. After all, he prepared the meal, so he deserves for everything to go as he envisioned.

"Are you sure you can handle two bottles of wine, sir?" you tease, and Titus offers you a genuine smile.

"Questioning my ability?" Titus asks as he takes his seat, and you nod, confirming your doubts. He laughs like a fool, and the two of you begin to enjoy the meal he prepared. The wine he selected pairs perfectly with the dish.

"You’re quite the chef. The seasoning is..." you begin, mid-bite, but suddenly you feel an overwhelming warmth coursing through you. "It’s... it’s very good," you manage to say, though your words come with slight difficulty, as if the heat were seeping into your very core.

"You know, when I was younger, my grandmother used to say that the way to a lady’s heart is through good seasoning," Titus says, his voice calm and measured, as you feel everything around you blur, the world spinning uncontrollably.

"Titus, I think there’s something wro...ng with me, " you manage to utter before your body succumbs to the overwhelming sensation, and your consciousness slips away entirely, your head falling onto the plate before you.

You hear heavy breathing, and the sensation of being dragged overtakes your body. When you awaken, your hands are bound behind your back. Your body aches, and your vision has yet to fully recover. It seems you’re in a basement, furnished in a way that suggests someone lives there. A shiver runs down your spine as you hear footsteps approaching.

"My dear, I’m so glad to see you’re awake," Titus murmurs, drawing closer with a tray in his hands, carrying medications and snacks. His gaze unsettles you—it’s as if holding you captive is entirely normal. That’s when you notice the cloth tied tightly over your mouth. Panic surges within you as tears stream down your face.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#titus x reader #tom glynn carney x reader #tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x y/n #tom glynn-carney character #regulars fanfic #tom glynn carney fanfic #stockholm syndrome #kidnapping fanfic #toxic relationship #Spotify #tom glynn-carney x reader #regulars movie #titus x y/n

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scriptastra · 4 months ago

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⋆.˚ ★ A collection of personal reflections and musings, heavily influenced by daydreams, nostalgia, and abstract thought. Much of what I write comes from the quiet hours—the in-between spaces, the dimly lit corners where past and present blur, and a feeling that lingers long after its moment has passed. I write because I need to, because words have always been the only way I know how to hold onto something—whether it’s a passing feeling, a nearly-forgotten face, or a moment that never actually happened but still somehow belongs to me. Somewhere along the way, this became my little archive of everything I never said out loud. A place where the words I swallowed down found somewhere to bloom, quietly, on their own time. Think of it as a poetic scrapbook of sorts: part love letter, part time capsule, part soft unraveling. This is where I come to remember who I’ve been, dream about who I could be, and write about everything I was too shy to say in the moment. If you’ve ever lived in your head a little too much or held tightly onto a memory just because it felt out of the ordinary, this is for you — always. ‧₊˚.

I grew up scribbling make-believe into the edges of my notebooks, spinning imaginary worlds and love stories long before I knew how much I’d need them. Now I own a small-town bookstore, surrounded by the great love of my life: words. In the rare moments I’m not writing or working on my business: I am wandering antique stores, sipping (too much) coffee, playing cozy video games late into the night, or watching comfort movies I’ve seen a hundred times just to feel their familiar warmth. At the moment, I’m working on my first poetry book, a collection built from soft aches and stolen moments. I also write fiction novels (when I’m not too busy writing fanfic that absolutely no one asked for and yet somehow consumes my entire heart). I love writing about the magic tucked into ordinary days, and I believe more than anything in romanticizing life: morning light on hardwood floors, novels that break your heart a little, and a well-placed em dash. It’s all storytelling, really, and I’m endlessly in love with every version of it. Thanks for stepping into my little world. I hope something here makes you feel seen.

You can find more of my works here.

© SCRIPTASTRA / SNOW WRITE 2025. All rights reserved. All content belongs to SCRIPTASTRA / SNOW WRITE. Plagiarism is prohibited. Reposting, translating, or sharing on other platforms is not allowed without proper credit.

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 2 months ago

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It's BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Twenty-Three: Pillow Talk time! This one has porn, because blowjobs are a love language. You can read this over here on AO3. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

Buck had always heard people bemoan a routine in relationships, that it took out the romanticism and spontaneity, but he loved it. He loved that on their days off, they took care of their house and ran errands and did things with their friends. He loved bickering about what to eat and who actually knew how to load a dishwasher correctly. It was a sign that everything was good and comfortable, and he had craved comfortable for years.

He tells all of this to Tommy when they’re in bed one night, because Tommy had asked if he wanted to do something more exciting on their next ninety-six while their schedules matched for a couple of weeks. Buck had said he was fine if they didn’t, and Tommy’s face had pinched a bit like he didn’t believe him.

“I just don't want you to feel like things are getting stale.”

So Buck tells him how he feels about doing yard work together and vegging on the couch and meal prepping. As he talks, Tommy’s eyes soften, and he reaches across to cover Buck’s hand with his own.

“Does it bother you?” Buck asks, and Tommy shakes his head. “Really?”

“No,” Tommy replies, his thumb stroking the back of Buck’s hand. “I think I’m really lucky, though, that I found someone who was looking for the same thing. I only saw that in movies or with my grandparents when I was growing up, and I wanted it. Just someone to share my life with, even the boring parts.”

Buck smiles and nuzzles his nose up against the side of Tommy’s hand, curling toward him like a comma. “I mean, our lives aren’t that boring. I had to pull a guy’s arm out of an industrial folding machine yesterday.”

Tommy chuckles and curls toward him, their knees touching under the covers. “Yeah. I think that’s why I like the routine so much. It feels like a safe haven we made just for us.”

“‘You don’t find it, you make it,’” Buck murmurs, warmth spreading through him. He gets it. He finally, really gets it.

“What’s that?”

“I never told you about Thomas?” he says, and the coincidence strikes him for the first time. Tommy’s not a Thomas, but it’s close enough. When Tommy shakes his head, Buck smiles just a bit. “It’s sad. But also kind of not.”

He tells Tommy about the old men and what Thomas had said to him, and by the end, Tommy has his foot hooked over Buck’s calf and he’s crowded close so he can rub Buck’s back and side.

“I thought I knew what he meant—that I didn’t need to just fall into the perfect relationship,” Buck says, smiling. “It does feel kind of like I did that anyway. But there’s work that goes into it, and then there’s making that safe haven. It’s working toward whatever works for us. This works for me.”

“Me, too,” Tommy says, smiling back. His fingers flex against Buck’s ribs before he rubs a big circle along them. “I like doing big things for you. I kind of worried that you’d want that all the time, which is doable and I love it, it’s just…a lot.”

“Sometimes I really just want to come home and do nothing with you. And doing stuff like going to the store is kind of new to me,” Buck points out. “So it’s about as exciting as a weekend in Yosemite.”

“Man, I could’ve saved a lot of money on camping gear,” Tommy says dryly, and Buck nudges his shin with his toes in a half-hearted kick. “So you really do want to just stay home, take care of the yard, and help me regrout the guest bathroom?”

Buck sighs happily. “Yeah. And, hey, I’ve never had a guest bathroom to regrout before, so that’s kind of a new and exciting thing for me. We can mix it up by ordering from that new Thai place we keep passing and saying we should try.”

“Be still my heart,” Tommy teases, closing the small distance between them to kiss him. Buck sighs against his mouth and wraps himself around Tommy as much as he can. When the kiss breaks, Tommy doesn’t move back. “I think maybe the lack of bed death is helping, too.”

“Oh, definitely,” Buck agrees, squirming against him. “And I never get sick of blowjobs. Or handjobs. Or you being inside me. Or me being inside you.”

“What are we going to do when I’m too old to get it up?” Tommy asks, nuzzling his jaw.

“Get a Costco sized bottle of Cialis.” Buck slips his hands under Tommy’s shorts and grabs one of the globes of his ass, huffing out a laugh when Tommy chuckles against his skin and he can feel his nose bump his earlobe when it scrunches. “And then when I can’t get it up anymore, we’ll just—I don’t know. We’ll think of something. Can’t really think of anything right now.”

Tommy unbuttons his boxers and reaches in to squeeze his hand around Buck where he’s starting to harden, and Buck moans softly, using his other hand to push Tommy’s shorts down until his ass is exposed. He shifts back a bit so he can pull the shorts down in the front, and Tommy sucks a kiss into his neck when Buck strokes him.

“I don’t want to get up,” Tommy murmurs, nipping at his shoulder. “So I’m gonna test that ‘never getting sick of blowjobs’ thing, okay?”

Buck shakes his head and detaches his hand from Tommy’s ass to bury his fingers in his hair. “You really want to give me a blowjob just so you don’t have to do cleanup?”

Tommy comes up to kiss him and smiles against his mouth. “I mean, it’s not the only reason.”

“Well, then you get up here,” Buck insists, letting go of Tommy’s dick to pat his hip. “Because I don’t want to get up either.”

“Don’t people usually sixty-nine for sexy reasons?”

Buck scoffs as Tommy gets his shorts off and starts to pull his own boxers down. “I’m pretty sure sucking each other’s dicks is still a sexy reason. Unless you think it’s not, I don’t know.”

“I did not say that.” Tommy nuzzles his nose against the base of Buck’s cock and licks slowly across his balls, drawing a bitten off moan from Buck.

“Get up here,” Buck murmurs, reaching down to squeeze Tommy’s pec. His boyfriend’s gotten just a little soft in the seven months since they’d gotten back together, and Buck loves to grab and squeeze. As soon as Tommy carefully kneels over Buck’s face, Buck hooks his arms in front of Tommy’s thighs and brings his hands up to grip his ass.

“I knew you were going to—fuck,” Tommy gasps when Buck licks over his hole. He grinds back on Buck’s tongue, his hand gripping Buck’s dick while he moans against his hip.

“C’mon, stop slacking,” Buck teases, smacking his ass. “This was basically your idea.”

“If our positions were reversed—Evan.” He whines out Buck’s name when Buck presses his tongue into him and squeezes the head of Tommy’s cock. His mouth finally closes over Buck, and he groans, thrusting loosely into his mouth.

He loves feeling surrounded by Tommy, when Tommy is above him and all Buck can feel and hear and smell and taste is him. He loses himself in it, wishing he’d suggest that Tommy just sit on his face instead, but he loves having Tommy’s arm across his thighs and his chest pressing against Buck’s abs as he bobs up and down on his dick.

When Tommy pulls one of his legs to the side, Buck tilts his hips up and moans against him when two of Tommy’s spit-slick fingers press inside. He fucks back against his hand a few times, his head tipping back as he chokes out moans. He loves how thick Tommy's fingers are, but they're never clumsy or rough with him. He'll stroke and press against places inside Buck that make him feel like he's coming undone at the seams.

“Now who’s slacking?” Tommy murmurs before shifting forward to bite his inner thigh. Buck jackknifes slightly at the sharp sting—his inner thighs are sensitive—and Tommy does it again on the other side before he goes back to sucking Buck’s dick.

Buck squirms under the onslaught of Tommy’s mouth and his fingers, and his hands dig into the meat of Tommy’s ass as he pants out soft pleas and Tommy’s name. When he manages to just barely get a warning out, Tommy uses his fingers against Buck’s prostate and his hand around his dick to milk his orgasm out of him. It’s so much, and it draws his orgasm out into something long and unceasing until Buck is twisting under him from oversensitivity.

As soon as Tommy’s mouth is off of him and his fingers are out of Buck’s ass, he hauls Tommy up to swallow his dick as deep as he can get it, using his hand to cover the rest. With some strong encouragement from his other hand, Tommy starts fucking down into Buck’s mouth like he’s using it to chase his orgasm. Buck’s eyes flutter back in his head a bit at that, and he lets himself get lost in the feeling.

When Tommy grunts out a warning, Buck moans out an acknowledgement just before Tommy’s hips stutter and his cock pumps several bursts of cum onto his waiting tongue.

He flops back and waits for Tommy to shift himself around to do the same, and then Buck curls toward him and kisses him.

“We could keep bees,” Tommy suggests when the kiss breaks.

“Hm?” he hums, focusing on the feeling of Tommy’s hand skimming over his back.

“When we can’t get it up anymore.” Tommy kisses his slack mouth, and Buck half-assedly presses a kiss back, too tired to do much more. “We’ll keep bees. You like bees.”

Buck smiles and tugs the duvet back over them. “I do like bees. And you can grow flowers for them to pollinate. They see big areas of flowers better, so it’ll have to be a lot of flowers.”

“Didn’t Emily Dickinson say it takes one clover and one bee to make a prairie?” Tommy’s hand is resting on Buck’s back now, and he’s nuzzling into Buck’s hair. “I think the prairie is dreams or imagination or something, but maybe she just didn’t know that about the flowers.”

“Why’d Emily Dickinson talk about bees?”

“Think she kept ‘em,” Tommy mumbles, his voice going soft and slurred.

Buck itches to look, but he’ll try to remember in the morning. He doesn’t want to disturb his boyfriend. Tommy sleeps heavily, but getting to sleep can be a bit of a problem. Besides, Buck is too comfortable to reach back for his phone. He’s also working on letting his brain shut off normally instead of just passing out mid-sentence while he’s reading something.

“G’night, Evan. Love you.”

“‘Night, baby. Love you.”

Tommy makes a noise that might be one of amusement, might be one of contentment, and they drift off to sleep together, their heads pressed together on the same pillow.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fluffebruary #my fic

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ultimateswag · 18 days ago

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𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜- Study Sesh

Paring : Steven Meeks x fem reader

TW : (brief) mentions of biblical studies and Pythagorean Identities.

[this is my first imagines by the way, so please excuse any mistake or poor writing (I tried to not mention any racial aspects, but lmk what I can improve)]

Latin was always a subject you mastered. It got much easier once you began to assimilate Latin with French, which, by the way, you were also pretty good at. One was a dead language, not spoken nowadays, but really useful when doing biblical studies, and then the other was the language of romance, the one people thought of when asked to say the most romantic and sexy language there is.

Though, besides languages and the occasional English, you weren’t really exceptional in any other subject, especially Trigonometry. It's not like you were failing, not at all actually, but you simply couldn't excel it like, by example, literature. That's why you’re pushing yourself to the edge, so you can get better at the calculus assimilated subjects, and that's why you asked Steven Meeks for help.

The two of you have always been friends, talking to each other in the corridors, of course being together in study groups, and also being a part of the same secret society. But apart from those friendly interactions, you didn't stand out as actually being friends, so much so, that few people actually believed that you even knew who Steven was. Being the only girl at Welton preparatory school due to your high intellectual level ( and family history) made you quite popular, so why would you, willingly, hang out with Steven Meeks? That's what they all thought, though, no one dared to say it out loud.

"I still don't understand this." You said, a loud sigh leaving your mouth quickly after as you stared at the problem filled paper in front of you.

Steven let out a small low chuckle, though it was clear he didn't mean it in an offensive way. "This is actually simpler than it looks" he begins, moving the paper a bit closer to him, and scooting lightly closer to you. "Once you understand the concept, it'll all make sense." And to that, you nods, gaze switching from the paper to his face, admiring his soft freckles, beautiful eyes and- and how he begins to explain Pythagorean Identities.

"Alright. So. Pythagorean identities. The most important one is kind of like the golden rule of trig: sin?0 + cos 0 = 1. That's the foundation, everything else branches from this." He explains.

You leaned in, the scent of your sweet raspberry perfume just barely brushing the air between them. "But why does that even work?"

Steven looked at you not just any glance, but the kind of look that says I see you struggling, and I want to help you out of it. "Because it comes from the Pythagorean Theorem." He says, but swing the confusion linger on your face, he grabs a piece of blank paper and a pencil and begins to draw." Picture this: a right triangle inside the unit circle. The hypotenuse is 1. The x-value is cose, the y-value is sine. So when you square both and add them up... it just always equals 1."

You blinked, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as they switch from the homework, to Steven's drawing. "So it's not just a random formula-they actually mean something."

He nodded, a little too pleased you were catching on. "Exactly. And the other two identities are built off this one. Like, if you divide everything by cos?0, you get: 1 + tan?0 = sec?0. And if you divide by sin'® instead, it becomes: cot?0 + 1 = cscª0. It's like a family of truths that are all connected."

You bit your lip, scribbling it down, then looked sideways at him. "Do you always talk about math like it's poetry?" You ask with a small smile. Steven, just like you, has always taken a special liking to poetry, and just like everyone else, after just a few classes with Mr. Keating, it became a bigger, more important part of his life, so of course it was no surprise to see him romanticizing trigonometry.

Steven smiled, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "It makes it easier to understand, does it not?" he tilts his head lightly at you, seeing as you wrote the problem's answer down on the paper, with your perfect calligraphy, while your beautiful, hair fell next to you. Your eyes seemed to shine as you understood each problem, they looked beautiful, you looked so beautiful. At least that's what he thought.

"I suppose it does" A soft laughter is heard leaving your mouth. There was a beat of silence-just the hush of pages turning in the distance and the soft tapping of your pen again. "You know," you said, not looking at him this time, "I usually hate asking for help."

"I know," he replied, glancing at her-noticing the tension in your jaw softening a little. "But I kind of like that you asked me.

Their eyes met. Just for a second. A heartbeat.

“I do too.” She said softly, turning to look at her notes once again. Her cheeks were feeling hotter, she didn’t want to look up.

“Do you need help with anything els-“ Before he could finish his frase, Aurora began speaking once again, mustering up enough courage to glance at him.

“Would you like to hang out? Outside of school?” She asks, cheeks getting hotter and hotter .

“That’d be pretty nice, actually.” Steven’s now held held a crimson tint, although he tried to act like he wasn’t about to jump out of happiness.

“Cool” she says, attempting to act nonchalant, but giving him a shy smile.

“Cool.” He answers back, returning her smile.

#steven meeks x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #steven meeks #nerdy boy #need that #dps boys #dps headcanons #dps fanfiction #Steven Meeks fanfiction

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kebriones · 4 months ago

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Socrates is literally a disgusting pervert who gets off on small boys like Lysis but uses intellectual manipulation to perpetuate unequal power relations; Alcibiades calls him out for it unironically in the Symposium (warning Agathon) and you keep romanticizing this despite both Plato and Solon explicitly making laws that condemn the exploitation of young boys through pederasty.

τι τραβαω χρονιαρες μέρες...

1. Plato didn't make any laws. But even if he did, laws from 2k years ago do not affect what I'm allowed to do now, i think. Also have you actually read the Lysis?

2. I haven't studied in depth the laws of solon neither could i find anything with a cursory google search about any of his laws pertaining to the practice of pederasty. If you have a source for that I'd love to have it for future reference.

3. Agathon in the symposium is 30 years old I don't think he fits in this discussion.

4. I am not a historian or archaeologist or a scientist that studies these things. There are many people more qualified than me to talk about this matter and you can find them online if you actually care about this topic. However, from the few things i understand and have read, here's what i think: when discussing pederasty in ancient greece, we need to understand that several things were vastly different from what we now know and understand. Girls would be getting married at like 15, so boys would also be having lovers at that age. Many many older societies didn't have the knowledge we have about the detriment these things, like getting married at that age to an older man, can have on a person and yes, this is one huge problem that has existed in patriarchal societies since forever and still does exist in the world.

5. In classical athens specifically, the younger partner had a level of control over the relationship, although of course that didn't erase the power imbalance. Especially teens from rich families who were most likely to enter such relationships (because their primary function was to initiate future citizens into the adult life and politics, via a mentorship that for one reason or another included an erotic aspect) would always be accompanied by attendants to protect them from unwanted attention. There were rules for schools and gymnasiums to protect boys from getting harassed. It was up to the teenager to accept a lover who he thought would benefit him. Of course now we know more about maturity and power dynamics and so on, but these were different times. I don't know how much more to stress that we're talking about entirely different societies from 25 hundred years ago. Other societies around the world also had questionable initiation rituals and cultural practices that nowadays we know are terribly harmful.

6. If you actually read the symposium, Socrates specifically refuses Alcibiades' sexual advances when Alcibiades was in his late teens, and part of the reason why is that Alcibiades was too young.

7. I am always drawing Alcibiades as an adult, so what I'm "romanticizing" is love between two grown adults. Do I think that their relationship as described in plato had toxic elements? Sure. Do I agree that Socrates was manipulative in general? Sure. That's part of what makes their dynamic interesting to me. Alcibiades was also a powerful manipulative individual who did horrible things. He'd had lovers other than Socrates who probably did manipulate him in his teens for sex much more than Socrates is ever shown to do. This is also why I like their relationship, because Socrates loves Alcibiades as a person first and foremost, unlike literally everyone else around him who wants him because he's physically attractive.

8. Please just block me or something if I'm bothering you. This is the last anon ask of this kind I will be answering. Please READ stuff before forming opinions and going up to random people to complain about their art, so you can have better arguments. Have a nice day.

#i had a terrible coffee and now this 😔#anyways why am i complaining this is enrichment #i guess i should apologize for answering this for y'all to see #I just felt it was a little unfair and also #i am sick of people saying plato wrote laws #lmao

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hoeneymilktea · 4 months ago

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deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 17 | enigma's secret

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 15.0k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

midnight streets ⇠ enigma's secret ⇢ black and blue

✧ chapter specific content warnings: minor character death, childhood abandonment

“I got five on it…”

Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture — Summer, fourteen years ago

The stench of rotting rubbish dispersed through the summer air, slowly trickling into the noses of the children kicking a ball to each other within the alleyway. Although they scrunched their eyebrows and pinched their noses; they continued their game nonetheless, running in circles with their open-toed sandals.

“Rin, I’m open here!” One of the boys called out to Suna, waving his arms over his head. He nodded and kicked the ball to the other kid’s direction, watching it maneuver through the grime and scour of the alleyway concrete.

At the time, Suna was only nine years old, living in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Nagoya. He resided primarily with his mother and younger sister, as his father was rarely home due to constant business trips. On the best occasion, he’d be home for about two days out of the whole month. Though, most of the time, he’d be gone for weeks on end, sometimes going months without coming home—yet, this didn’t bother Suna at all.

His mom mentioned it was because his father worked for a business all the way out in Osaka, so it was best for him to rent out a small space out in the city and come home from time to time. He used to visit more frequently when Suna was younger, but as the years progressed, his visits would become more sparse, dwindling by each one.

Suna’s mother worked as a caregiver at the local nursing home, which meant money was usually tight. It was hard to get by living paycheck to paycheck—and if she got sick, Suna would unfortunately have to skip out on some meals while they made sure his sister was well fed. Sometimes his dad would send back money to help out, but just like his visitations, the frequency of the checks sent over began to dwindle as well.

His younger sister was still a baby, so Suna ended up having to take care of her whenever his mother worked the late night shifts. Whenever he arrived home from school, she would pass her off to him before she went to work, which also meant he barely got to see his mom as well. Throughout all of the struggle, Suna still didn’t mind, as he thought his life was something normal to live through.

Suna rarely knew his father. He didn’t even know which company he worked for; only the fact he just worked for one. Sometimes he forgot what his father looked like, even though his mother would constantly remind him that he resembled his dad to a stark preciseness. Despite the absence of his father, Suna still admired him greatly to where one day, he aspired to be just like him.

His mother adored his father as she spoke very highly of him—constantly praising his adorned looks, his work ethic, and how lovingly he treated her. She mentioned they met at the nursing home she worked at, where she was the caregiver for his old, senile, and mute grand-uncle. Unfortunately, Suna’s great-grand-uncle passed away shortly after that, but his parents’ relationship continued to live on, and eventually they got married and had Suna soon thereafter.

All was well from the memories he could recall, and for a long time, their lives were decently quiet. Although they lived in a shabby run-down apartment complex in the poorest district of Nagoya, young Suna was happy—and that’s all he needed, truly.

After a long day of playing outside with his friends, the sun turned bright orange on the horizon, slowly setting for the night. Suna said his goodbyes to the neighborhood kids and made his way back up the five flights of stairs to his apartment on the top floor, trotting up triumphantly with each step.

His maroon tank top was dirty from playing in the alleyway, and he knew his mom would get upset at him again for it. He tried his best to dust it off before entering through the door, but before he grabbed the handle, he heard a long, drawn out wail of anguish erupting from his mother on the other side.

Suna didn’t waste a second more before he swung open the door and saw his mother sobbing on the kitchen floor with her head buried deep into her palms. Her white cotton dress was drenched with the flood of tears spilling from her eyes. His baby sister stood up in her crib and was crying herself too, mostly likely stressed from their mother collapsing straight to the floor. The home phone was shattered on the kitchen tiles with a persistent dial tone still ringing, sitting next to his mother’s foot.

“Mom?!” Suna worried, quickly rushing to her without closing the apartment door. “Mom, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?!”

He reached his arms out and grabbed his mother’s wet hands, taking them away from her face as she continued to sob violently. He looked straight into her eyes and realized the joy his mother would radiate, even on the worst of days—it was entirely drained out from body, leaving a vessel that was completely vapid and void of any soul or will to continue on.

Soon, Suna began to shed tears himself where he could feel the warmth of his cheeks beginning to erupt. He held tighter to his mother’s hands while her head dangled in misery. “Mom! What happened?!”

His mother went mute and ignored his further questions; only the sound of sorrow was to be heard throughout the apartment. Her cries were so loud that the old woman living next door scurried to their unit to check if everything was okay before promptly calling the ambulance. Suna was left in dismay, bursting into a rush of tears as his mother laid still against the kitchen cabinets while he was comforted by the old woman. Soon after, she was wheeled away to the back of the vehicle, her fate ultimately lying within the paramedics’ hands.

There was something viscerally disturbing about the way his mother was almost lifeless and unresponsive on the gurney to the ambulance. Behind that phone call must have been extremely disturbing for her to react that way, especially when she was usually so calm and collected with almost any experience in life. Suna was left that day with more questions that he could think of, wondering what happened during that phone call.

While his mother was in the hospital, the old woman next door took care of Suna and his baby sister for a few days. She made some mediocre food, but at least she gave him a package of jelly sticks he would sometimes share with his sister. It soon became his favorite snack, almost in a coping way that eased his ruminating mind.

After the third day of his mother’s rest in the hospital, Suna overheard the elderly woman talking on the phone while making dinner for them. He hid behind a small corner that was tucked behind the main entrance to the kitchen, slowly peeking his head out to hear the conversation.

“Can’t the police do anything?!” The elderly woman raised her voice while she neglected the pot of soup boiling over on the stove. She sighed in disbelief, pinching the bridge of her nose while holding the phone up to her ear.

The topic was about his father and how she was stressed at the fact he wasn’t the one taking care of his kids—all until she found out he disappeared straight out of the blue, abandoning his family. Suna didn’t know when this happened, but he assumed from the lack of calls, letters, and financial support coming in that this was something he had planned to gradually phase out of—ultimately abandoning his family without a trace.

The old woman responded in a harsh tone to the person she was talking to, asking for clarification on the situation. “What do you mean by disappeared? His kids are still here! He can’t just abandon them like that!”

Suna choked back tears falling from his eyes, swallowing down whatever pride he had regarding the integrity of his father. It was the last thing he wanted to hear, hoping the phone call was about his father and that he would be on his way to take care of him and his sister—but unfortunately, it was the exact opposite. He refused to accept that his father, his one and only role model, the man he looked up to—abandoned and betrayed him.

After that day, Suna no longer felt the thread of connection to his father. On some days, the cuts could be felt again, slicing through the fabric of his trust.

Osaka Prefecture — Winter, four years ago

“Don’t even bother trying to contact him,” Suna’s mother scolded, wincing at the thought of her son wanting to see her estranged ex-husband, let alone desiring to reconcile their relationship after a decade of abandonment. “He’s nothing but a coward, a piece of shit. You know exactly what he did to our family, he betrayed all of us.”

Suna sighed while pushing a piece of grilled chicken on his plate with his chopsticks, resting his head upon his palm. He knew this would have been her reaction; and he was beginning to regret even asking for her help in the first place.

His mother, once beaming full of sunshine and radiant energy, was now filled with resentment and hatred for his father suddenly disappearing and abandoning his family. She had any right to be this way, but her disdain has lasted for a decade with the same passion of hate for him since day one. Suna would have thought already that she might have forgiven and forgotten the past, but unfortunately she was the type to hold strong grudges.

His sister was no different. She was only a baby when he left, which only made her become estranged from him as well. Suna was sure she didn’t even remember what their father looked like as he’s never once tried to visit the both of them in the decade he had been absent. While being raised only by Suna’s mother, by default, she had no interest in forming a relationship with him either.

Though Suna on the other hand had different intentions. He planned to see his father once more, wishing to rekindle their relationship. To his mother and sister, his desire seemed out of place, especially after what he did to them—but despite their opposition, Suna was now an adult that could make his own decisions.

After all these years, he still had no way of contacting him. His mother refused to help, proclaiming over and over that it would be a huge mistake he would be making bringing that man back into his life. Regardless of her opinions, she genuinely could not help in regards to where one could find the man; she was just as clueless as he was.

Though, there was only one piece of evidence Suna could rely upon—each year, close to the end of January, a check for one million yen always arrived at their residence. His mother never knew who sent them, and even tried to ask the bank if it was a counterfeit. Yet, the checks never bounced back, and each year, she deposited them accordingly.

She tried calling the place that sent them, asking why they were giving her money and if it was truly meant for her—for three consecutive years, they gave her the same answer: it was a proxy service that didn’t disclose their clients. After that, she stopped calling and accepted the checks whenever they came; she usually took Suna and his sister out to eat at a nice place for his birthday.

Once Suna was old enough to know what was going on, he had a suspicion it was coming from his father. Although the checks were nowhere near the amount to financially sustain two kids for the whole year, it was still enough evidence to assume it was child support. Suna did a little bit of research and found the amount on the check was just a little over the required amount needed to financially support two children for a full year in Japan. Granted, it was the national minimum, but nonetheless, the numbers added up.

On Suna’s 19th birthday, right before his mother deposited the check, he made sure to write down the name of the proxy service that was sending his family the money. It went by the name of Schweiden Adlers Inc, a seemingly foreign-operated proxy for Japanese businesses. Its headquarters were out in Tokyo, which was a long way from Nagoya—nonetheless, Suna was going out on a journey to investigate.

While on the phone with the proxy company, he was told to meet with a man named Utsui; nothing more than just a last name, presumably. During their phone call, Utsui was frequently dismissing Suna’s inquiry about the source of where the money was being sent from, almost like he didn’t want someone near him to hear their conversation. All he told Suna was to meet him at the Scheiden Adlers Inc building where his office was located, and he promised he would help him.

Suna wasn’t sure why he wanted to reconcile his relationship with his father. In fact, he understood why his mother and sister wouldn’t want to, but there was something urging him to reach out. He told his family it was for money reasons, or for him to get business or networking connections, but deep down, he didn’t want to admit he still wanted to have a father figure around in his life. He missed his father deeply, hoping by some miracle he would say the same about him. Why else would he still be sending money to support them?

Suna tried to keep it cool, especially around the mention of his father by other people—but on occasion, he cried himself to sleep at the thought of not having him around anymore. His father left at such a critical age for Suna where his presence had already made a lasting influence on his attachment and abandonment issues. Yet, despite the many reasons he has to hate his father, there wasn’t much to persuade him otherwise. He still believed there could be a relationship between them, and Suna would rather die trying than to never have tried at all.

Much to his mother’s warning and pleading, Suna packed his bags and took a trip to find out more information about his father out in Tokyo. It was a risk he was willing to take in order to have his father back into his life again.

He attended the first bullet train of the day a week after his birthday, promptly departing the Nagoya train station around five in the morning. He left a note to his mother and sister, letting them know he would be in Tokyo for the week and will return back, asking them what souvenirs or special items they would like for him to bring for them. Suna placed it on the kitchen table and quietly left the quaint apartment that he had always grown up in since birth.

The bullet train took no more than two hours to travel from Nagoya station to Tokyo station, arriving in the big city around seven in the morning. It was a pleasant experience for Suna, as he never once traveled outside of Nagoya before. A blend of excitement and anxiousness washed over him, overwhelmed by the busy and bustling city of Tokyo.

The moment he stepped off the bullet train, he was already being pushed by several business men heading to work for the day. He stumbled off the platform, dropping his bags in the process while a swarm of people boarded the next ride. Suna dusted off his pants and picked up his bags, expecting this sort of behavior from subway users, not those taking the bullet train. Perhaps the people living in Tokyo were just behaviorally different from the rest of Japan.

Suna took a taxi to the outskirts of southern Shinjuku where the Schweiden Adlers Inc building was located. He had an “appointment” with Utsui around eight in the morning, hoping he wouldn’t arrive late to their meeting. Suna arrived just ten minutes before, rushing in with two duffel bags into a white and pristine office lobby.

The two women behind the desk were startled by his grand entrance, watching a teenaged Suna panting heavily from running a few blocks away where the taxi dropped him off, afraid he’d miss his appointment if he was left to sit in the morning Tokyo traffic. He placed his bags on one of the waiting chairs and placed his hand on his chest, trying his best to catch his breath. The women were eyeing his every movement, wondering why someone as young as Suna was in the lobby of the proxy company, deviating from the demographic of their usual clients.

He soon walked up to the front desk, placing his hands on top of the counter before mustering up the courage to speak. “Uh, I have an appointment at eight with Utsui?”

“Your name?” One of the women asked with a snarky attitude, typing away at her computer while the other sat in the other chair, filing her nails away.

“Last name, Suna; first name, Rintarou,” he responded clearly, curling his fingers toward his palms. He shifted his mouth to the side while gulping down any nervousness he experienced, hoping they would tell him right away where to go.

“He’ll be out to get you soon. Have a seat in the waiting area.” The woman responded with a smile on her face in a condescending tone, shooing him away from the front desk.

Suna gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride, walking back over to his items on the chairs before he plopped himself down, heaving out a very heavy sigh. He didn’t understand Tokyo manners, let alone the manners of anywhere but Nagoya. All he did was place his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting for the appointment to start.

Sooner or later, a deep voice called out his name into the empty waiting room, shattering the silence. Suna lifted his eyes up to find a mid-sized man no taller than him peek out from behind the office doors, waving his hand up in the air at him. “Suna Rintarou?”

Suna took a pause before scurrying to collect his things off the waiting chairs next to him and proceeded to bolt straight to him, lugging his things over his shoulder. The man he believed to be Utsui shook his hand, greeted him promptly, and opened the door into the main office.

Once inside, Utsui led him through rows and rows of cubicles, filled with business men looking exactly like him, typing away at their computers with hunched backs. Suna observed their behaviors, watching them all in synchronized motions like robots in a manufacturing plant. It was oddly eerie to him, but nonetheless he followed Utsui to the back of the office.

He stopped in front of an empty cubicle, heading inside to pull out the chair for Suna to sit in. As soon as the both of them settled down in their respective chairs, Utsui cleared his throat and smiled brightly at Suna. “Hiya, Rintarou. I didn’t properly introduce myself—I’m Takashi Utsui, senior supervisor for the proxy affairs department.”

Suna reached out and shook his hand, nodding in place. “Hi, Mr. Utsui. I’m Rintarou Suna, the one who called a while ago.”

“Yes, yes!” Utsui clapped, turning to his computer before logging into his work account. “The one from Nagoya! Thank you for meeting me. I hope your journey here wasn’t too long, and that Tokyo welcomed you with good spirits.”

Suna shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back into his seat. “Eh, it wasn’t too bad. Tokyo’s very different from Nagoya though.”

Utsui nodded his head along Suna’s response, typing away at his computer like the other businessmen he observed earlier. He sat upright on his chair at the edge of the seat, typing continuously at his desk, seemingly writing up a report before focusing his attention back on Suna. Right as he was done, he sighed and reclined back into his chair, swiveling himself towards Suna with an entirely changed aura.

“Alright…” Utsui’s voice became soft rather than upbeat and cheerful from earlier; his facial expression dropping to an almost austere demeanor. He propped his elbows up on his desk and folded his hands, resting his chin on his fingers. “...we cannot talk too loudly now.”

Suna’s eyes widened, wondering why there was a change in behavior from him. “How come?”

“One of the reasons why I did not want to talk about your inquiry through the phone is the fact that all calls are recorded here at Schweiden Adlers,” Utsui began, leaning his head closer to Suna, finally whispering his final words. “...and what I’m about to disclose to you is extremely illegal.”

Suna froze in place, trying to comprehend exactly what Utsui just said. Illegal? Why? All he wanted was to know who kept sending the checks to his family—and to confirm if it was really from his father. Despite the confusion, Suna nodded his head in agreement, hoping Utsui would elaborate further.

“So, I could potentially lose my job by telling you this information,” Utsui started off, cracking his knuckles in the process. “But, I’ve had enough. I’m tired of hiding the truth.”

Suna’s curiosity piqued. “Please, go on…”

For the next hour, Utsui went on to reveal that Schweiden Adlers Incorporated was a loan and proxy business for government agency affairs, mainly dealing with officials that prefer to cover up where money was being sourced and sent from. Particularly, one of their biggest clients were men employed by the Public Security Intelligence Agency sending out their required child support for the families they’ve created and abandoned while on missions.

Unfortunately for Suna, he was part of the many families personally victimized by these undercover agents on missions. Utsui explained that he used to be employed by the PSIA and also created a false family of his own, ultimately being forced to abandon the children he raised once the mission was over. His regret was so burdening on his conscience that he quit his high-paying position at the Intelligence Agency to rekindle with his children again, one of which he mentioned was around the same age as Suna.

Tears began to stream down his face once he began to connect the dots. That was the reason why his father left months at a time very frequently while he grew up—that was the reason why he traveled so far for work to places all over Japan. Suna was baffled to know there was actually a reason as to why his father’s abandonment was so out of the blue, seemingly coming from nowhere.

This sort of information was hard to process, knowing his father had been forced to reject him and his family—but somehow, he still believed there was a way for a rekindling. In fact, he assumed there was still a possibility due to the fact Utsui was able to do so with his own children. Perhaps his father wasn’t able to reach out all these years because he was forced to, not because he didn’t want to.

To Suna, there was still hope.

“This is the reason why I wanted to provide you with this classified information… I would have wanted the same for my kids if they ever wanted to reach out.” Utsui comforted, trying his best to console the young man through the difficult news.

“I don’t understand,” Suna whispered, weeping through his words. “So, what you’re saying is that my dad is an undercover agent?”

“Yes,” Utsui nodded, swiveling his chair towards the back of his cubicle drawers. Out of the blue, he unlocked one of his file cabinets and revealed a small laptop and began typing intensely on the keyboard. “I’m not letting you leave without knowing where to find your father. Anyone in the PSIA is hard to contact without an invitation from the inside, but luckily for you, I’m here to help.”

Within that moment, Utsui provided Suna with a file filled with details about his father’s occupation, home address, and phone number—all confidential information behind the business affairs agreement between Schweiden Adlers Inc and the PSIA. He pulled up the proxy information relevant for him to find his father, hopefully giving him the tools to reconcile their relationship.

Once Utsui printed out all the files, Suna carefully opened the folder to reveal paragraphs of information—most of which was describing user agreement details written by the proxy party, but upon further inspection, the papers revealed much more than what Utsui promised. When Suna flipped to the third page of the document, his stomach dropped.

There on the top right held the picture portrait of his father, just as he remembered him. He had light skin and thin sage green eyes just like Suna, coupled with a short slick-back haircut, reminiscent of a military high and tight cut. He looked exactly like an older version of Suna with shorter hair; the same smug smile on the left side of his face.

All his life, Suna thought his father’s name was Daisuke Suna, obviously taking on his father’s last name—though the registered name on his file was not recognizable in the slightest. Written at the top left of the page was the name ‘Kenji Yamasaki’, born August 29th, 1972. Below was his current address and phone number, along with detailed statements of all the child support payments out from his linked PSIA paychecks.

What fully confirmed this man was truly his father was the addressed recipient of the child support—Hinari Sato, Suna’s mother. Below her name was the address of their apartment, along with the names of her two children, Rintarou and Chiyo Suna.

Suna’s hands began to tremble while holding the folder, rereading his father’s real name over and over again until his vision was blurred with tears. Processing all of this information at once was borderline unbearable, trying his hardest to withhold the urge to break down right then and there at Utsui’s cubicle. He closed the file before reading any further, placing it gently onto the desk.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Utsui reached out over the desk and placed his hand on Suna’s shoulder while he trembled in his seat, resisting more tears from streaming down his face. “But you’re not going to get it easier any other way.”

Utsui mentioned he was a retired TMPD officer before he began working for Sweiden Adlers Inc. He mentioned to call his former department deputy—Tanji Washijou, if he was ever interested in a career working for the city police, and to mention Utsui sent him. Suna said he would keep his offer in mind since he wasn’t sure what to do with his career path, but otherwise he left Schweiden Adlers Inc that day with a heavy heart.

Suna spent the rest of his day sitting in the room of his cheap hostel, sitting atop his simple futon mattress on the floor, staring intensely at the rest of his father’s file encompassed within the darkness. He researched further into his father’s profile, discovering much more than he expected.

His father’s address was not far from the hostel he was staying at, so he planned to visit soon while still in Tokyo. He lived in the small family neighborhood of Naritahigashi within Suginami City, a town over from the edge of Shinjuku. It was only a subway ride away from the north end of Shibuya, so Suna sought out the next morning to head over.

With his father’s address put into his GPS, Suna made the quick journey over to the neighborhood of Naritahigashi. It was around the afternoon on a Saturday, hoping he would be home to answer. Suna fiddled with his hands in his pockets the whole subway ride there, anxious about finally meeting his father again in over ten years.

He walked the rest of the way there, taking in the experience of exploring through a suburban Tokyo neighborhood. Compared to the poorest parts of Nagoya, Tokyo was absolutely sterile—not a single piece of litter was to be seen. The flora was blooming on the sides of houses while the streets were kept clean and smooth for residential use. Everything was maintained accordingly—even the families walking and biking along the sidewalks.

Soon, Suna reached the house designated to the address he had on file. There was a car parked on the side of the entrance, indicating there was at least someone home. It was two stories high on the corner of the street, built with white clay and cement on the exterior. Unfortunately, there weren’t any family name plates on the outside of the house, only the house number.

Suna hesitantly walked up to the front entrance, stopping in place at the porch. He took one deep breath before lifting his arm up, knocking three times on the door loud and clear. Suna took two steps back, anxiously waiting for someone to answer.

All of a sudden, Suna heard small footsteps approaching the front entrance—it sounded like a quiet pitter-patter of feet running across the hardwood floor. Once the door unlocked, a small boy no older than four years old wearing bright blue overalls peeked his head out to look up at him. They locked eyes for a moment with Suna noticing the boy also had the same brown hair and light green colored eyes as him and his father.

“Who are you?” The boy articulated in a high-pitched voice, squinting his eyes up at Suna. He held a fox plush toy tightly in his hands, wrapping his arm around the neck while leaving the body dangling on the floor. “Why do you look like my daddy? Are you my uncle?”

Suna was left agape, utterly shocked at the small child answering the door to this house. Other than the obvious questions about where his guardians are, Suna primarily wondered why this boy looked eerily similar to him and his sister. He shared the same general facial features—the same eye color, eye shape, eyebrows—even the same nose. This kid was basically a carbon copy of him.

Amidst the confusion, a woman suddenly popped out behind the child, scooping him up in her arms. She had a worried look on her face while she scolded the boy, mumbling to him that he shouldn’t be opening doors to strangers and to let the adults answer next time.

The woman turned to Suna with a sheepish smile on her face, bowing her head down to him. “My deepest apologies for my son, I told him to wait for me to answer the door.”

Suna surrendered his hands up, shaking them anxiously while he told the woman it wasn’t a problem for him. “Oh that’s okay, ma’am. Your son wasn’t causing much trouble for me.”

The woman smiled while keeping the boy sitting at her hip, quietly sucking his thumb with the fox plushie tight around his arm. “What brings you here?”

“I’m actually looking for my dad, Kenji Yamasaki,” Suna replied while taking out his phone, looking at the address from his father’s file. “It said he lives here at this address.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar…” the woman pondered, placing her free hand on her chin. “No one named Yamasaki lives here.”

Suna’s heart felt like it sank into his stomach, causing him to suddenly forget how to breathe. Sweat quickly accumulated on his forehead under the pressure of the woman’s blank stare before he gulped down the nervousness he felt, hesitating to respond. “Well, I was told he lived here at this address, so I’m not sure.”

“Maybe he was a previous tenant?” The woman looked up at the ceiling and furrowed her eyebrows while readjusting the small boy attached to her hip, sheepishly smiling back at Suna. “My husband and I just bought this house from a realtor not too long ago, so perhaps your dad forgot to give you his updated address?”

Suddenly, a deep male voice interrupted from a distance behind the woman with heavy footsteps approaching the front door. “Who’s out here, honey?”

A male figure appeared behind the woman, resting his hand on her shoulder. As Suna lifted his gaze to meet the man’s eyes, an overwhelming sensation of dread gripped him, almost nauseating at the initial sight. For the first time in over a decade, he stood in front of the man who was no other than his father.

He looked the same as what Suna remembered all those years ago—trimmed facial hair, a shaggy haircut, the same thin light green eyes. It’s almost as if he didn’t age a decade at all. Compared to Suna, his father looked frozen in time, emulating the same quirky businessman he knew back as a child. His father locked eyes with him, knowing exactly who Suna was at first glance as well.

The woman’s demeanor changed entirely once his father entered the conversation. Her body language became more relaxed, along with her face forming a content smile. She greeted him quietly and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning to face Suna, addressing the concerns with his visit. “Oh, just this young man looking for his dad. Do you know of a guy named Kenji Yamasaki?”

Suna’s father did not break eye contact with him, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. With no hesitation to deny his real identity, Kenji gulped and shook his head. “No, I don’t. Doesn’t sound familiar.”

The woman, whom Suna assumed was his father’s new wife, noticed the intense gaze between the both of them. The tension was noticeable enough for her to interject; looking behind her shoulder at her husband and then back at Suna with an inquisitive expression. “Do you two know each other?”

“No, we don’t.” Suna instantly responded, understanding the implications of his father’s new social identity under the guise of an operation where he’ll inevitably ruin another family yet again.

He stared at the small boy sucking his thumb in his mouth, knowing the same fate will happen to him sooner or later. The thought of having the kid experience the same abandonment and heartbreak as he did made Suna tighten the grip on his hands, wincing at the pain of his fingernails digging deep into his palms. While staring straight into the eyes of the child’s innocence, he saw nothing but a younger version of himself, hopeless and afraid.

“I must have the wrong address, I apologize for intruding.”

He immediately turned around and ran off, quickly walking away from the family home. Without looking back, he placed his hands firmly into the pockets of his jacket and walked down the street of the neighborhood, silent tears streaming down his face.

Suna sat in his hostel encompassed in complete darkness for the rest of the day. He laid on the small futon, trying to make sense of the emotions he was experiencing. Throughout his childhood, he didn’t understand what emotional regulation was, and because he was left to be the “man of the house” after his father left, he didn’t allow himself to show any vulnerability. A lot of his emotions became buried and bottled up, never knowing when it would explode and spill over.

That night was one of those times.

There were clear signs that he was at maximum capacity of holding everything in with tears slipping out over and over again within the past week. Suna wasn’t sure how to control the amount of emotional turbulence that came with the trauma, nonetheless even knowing how to let go and make peace with it. He didn’t address the underlying wounds following his father’s departure, opting instead to ignore the pleas for healing his body ached for.

Unfortunately, he was simply unaware of how much emotional baggage would come with trying to rekindle a relationship with his father, taking on more than he could actually handle.

Suna’s headache was made unbearable through the tremors of his right temple, feeling as though his skull itself were about to rupture. Submerged in darkness for the whole day with the blinds closed made the night feel much longer than it actually was. A constant stream of tears left him dehydrated, exasperating his headache, compounding through his empty stomach. After rotting on the futon all day, Suna checked his phone for the time—23:52, or 11:52PM.

A rumbled groan left through the slits of his teeth, rolling his eyes to the back of his head before rubbing his face haphazardly, forcing himself to stay awake. He knew he had to get a meal within his system, so he slowly arose from the floor, slipped his hooded jacket on, and ventured out on a nightly mission. With his keys, cell phone, and some cash crumpled up in his pocket, he wandered out into the bustling streets of Shinjuku.

He searched for a twenty-four-hour convenience store—and luckily within a mile, there was a stretch of a few different ones in a single block. Suna chose the closest one to him; a family-owned mart with a teenage boy doing cram school homework at the front register.

He entered in like usual, responding back to the teenager’s greeting and heading straight to the hot food section with small meals paired with rice. He scanned through the selection of onigiri, fried vegetables, and egg salad sandwich options, but nothing was really suiting his appetite. He squinted and sighed, hoping if he kept walking further, he would encounter a restaurant selling cheap eats. However, Suna only brought a couple hundred yen in his pocket, enough for a small meal and drink at the convenience store.

After browsing the hot food section, Suna decided to grab his drink first, heading over to the refrigerators near the back. The selection was open without doors, making it easier for him to view the drinks and their prices. Once his eyes carefully scanned through the rows and rows of drink varieties, he settled for the last bottle of melon soda.

Just as he reached for it, a weathered hand lept from outside the corner of his hood, converging upon the same drink but colliding with his. He was unaware of the other person approaching behind him. Suna glanced at the individual, briefly observing his face, only to realize the man snatched the bottle before he could.

“Hey, I wanted that first—,” just as he spoke up, he glanced one more time at the man’s face, realizing he recognized exactly who he was. With his eyes almost swelling with tears, Suna choked in the middle of his sentence, rendered with confusion.

“Dad?”

“Rintarou?”

Suna didn’t intend to eat out at a restaurant that night, nor did he account for ever seeing his dad ever again after what happened earlier that morning. Yet, there he was, eating a hefty bowl of noodles at a ramen house in the middle of the Chuo Ward, sitting directly in front of his father.

The place was tucked in the middle of an alley in the heart of the city, primarily lit up by a red neon sign on the outside of the windows. Suna and his dad sat close to the windows, looking out to the bridge right above the restaurant, watching the cars pass by. He looked back at his father, Kenji, slurping up the fresh noodles from the edge of his bowl before looking down at his own meal, pushing around the toppings amongst the soup.

Kenji pulled away from his bowl and exhaled a breath of satisfaction, closing his eyes and nodding his head. “This is one of my favorite places in Tokyo. They serve damn good ramen.”

“Yeah, it’s really good.” Suna rested his left elbow on the table, resting his head upon his hand while looking out the window again at the cars on the bridge. He pushed around the toppings in his soup with his chopsticks, thinking about how unusual it was to be here with his father.

If you had asked him earlier within the trip, spending quality time with his dad was the ideal expectation. Although it was what he wanted, it felt forced, only happening by coincidence. What happened earlier that morning spoiled the fun out of any idealized moments he was thinking of spending with his father.

Though Suna couldn’t help but be grateful for the coincidence, knowing he should’ve felt elated for reconnecting with his father even if it wasn’t to his original expectations. He knew his nine-year-old self would have killed for another meal with his dad, so he made sure to at least savor the scarce moments he was given.

“You might be wondering why my current wife doesn’t know my real name,” Kenji began, lowering the bowl of soup from his lips. “I guess it’s about time I’ve told you the truth.”

“No, I get it. You’re on your current mission,” Suna interrupted, bringing up his chopsticks to slurp up his own noodles. With his mouth full, he pointed the chopsticks to Kenji, waving them around in a circle. “What’s your new alias?”

“Makoto Hattori,” Kenji hesitantly responded, raising an eyebrow up at Suna. “Wait a minute, how’d ya know I’m on a mission anyways?”

“The same reason as to how I got your address,” Suna responded with a smug face, slurping up another taste of his noodles. “I got intel from the proxy you send child support from.”

With much surprise, Kenji’s face began to turn red while cursing under his breath, fumbling on the words he was going to say. Through his teeth, he leaned his body forward and whispered loudly over the table. “Fucking hell, that shit’s confidential, who the hell told you all this?”

“I ain’t saying a thing,” Suna shook his head while crossing his arms, leaning back on his chair. “Snitches get stitches.”

Kenji scoffed, folding his own arms over his chest. “Okay, fine. But let me explain myself, at least. There’s more to the story.”

Suna’s father began to share what his life was like after separating from the family, letting him know it wasn’t fully his choice to leave. In fact, his original mission ended way before Suna was even born, but he begged the PSIA to assign other tasks around Nagoya and the Kansai region. That was primarily the reason why he was always out on “business trips” to Osaka, building a whole operation against the largest Yakuza clan in Southern Japan, the Kitagawa Daichii.

Though unfortunately, the PSIA finally moved him to Tokyo, where his mission was now redirected to focus on the largest Yakuza clan within Japan, running the streets of the entire city: the Sakanoshita clan. His new mission at the time was to take down the main boss, but now they’ve recently focused on a new target.

Kenji comforted Suna, explaining that leaving him and his family wasn't a personal decision but a commitment to serve the country for the well-being of its citizens. Kenji even revealed that Suna was, in fact, his eldest son—and that he, his mom, and sister held a special place in his heart as the first family he had ever established. Unfortunately, the man Suna once knew all those years ago did not exist anymore, as Daisuke Suna was only a guise Kenji had to put on in order to protect them from the dangers of his career.

It was a lot for Suna to take in all at once, knowing the intricate details of who Kenji truly was and the main reason for his departure early on. The idealized image Suna had built of his father from an early age started to slowly fade away the more and more he learned about him. It was bittersweet in a way, knowing the truth had finally helped him seek the closure he needed, but that meant he had to let go of his past—he had to let go of the little boy he once knew, and the man he once admired.

The following conversations included everything that had happened to Suna for the past ten years, catching his father up on what was going on within his life. Suna mentioned his past hobbies he’s picked up, past achievements he’s accomplished, and even the past relationships he’s had with ex-girlfriends. Kenji listened engagingly to his stories like it was prime television, reacting positively to the highs and mourning the lows.

Suna chuckled every time his dad was dramatically reacting, adding his own commentary in between stories. It was a heartwarming moment shared between father and son, something Suna had been wanting to happen for so long.

At this point in time, it was well past two in the morning and they’ve already finished their food, leaving behind two bowls emptied clean. Kenji paid for both of their meals, sending compliments to the chef when the owner came and gave them the bill, leaving them to chat the rest of the night away.

“How’s your mom and sister?” Kenji asked, sighing softly to himself as the owner of the restaurant collected their stacked bowls off the table. “Are they doing alright?”

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Suna chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “They hate you like always.”

“I figured.” Kenji rested both of his elbows on the table, sighing solemnly to himself. He let out a sheepish smile, locking eyes with Suna. “I see you don’t, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t have visited me.”

Suna folded his hands on his lap, continuing to lean back in his chair on its hind legs. He looked out into the city at night, observing the lights in the distance without looking over at his dad. “I decided to visit because I want you to be a part of my life again.”

Silence arose between the steady flow of conversation. Suna looked over at his father, watching him stare at his blurred reflection within the shine of the oak table. “Rintarou… you know I can’t.”

Suna held a grip on his hand, matching the tightness of his bite. “Why not?”

Kenji took a momentary pause, still looking down at his reflection, hesitant to say his answer. “You know exactly why I can’t be in your life again as a father.”

Another silence fell between them, pushing ever further their hopes of reconciliation. Any remaining had already departed, leaving behind the failure Suna had anticipated from the beginning. Their eyes slowly met with a morose linger—one suffering in guilt, the other in abandonment.

“I’m here with a new family, my mission down in Nagoya is over.” Kenji clarified, making sure to be openly transparent with his eldest son about his current situation. “The man you once knew as Daisuke Suna—he doesn’t exist anymore.”

Suna clenched his fists within his pockets while grinding the back of his teeth, keeping his lips shut. His mind raced with copious amounts of heinous responses, but ultimately stopped himself from impulsive reactionary insults that he otherwise would have regretted later. Instead, he nodded his head and decidedly went with a response he deemed the most mature to say.

“I understand.”

Kenji released a heavy sigh he was holding in, relieved to hear his son understood his circumstances. Suna kept his head low, staring down at the laces of his shoes. He watched Kenji’s feet move away from him, scooting his chair out and standing up from his seat, all from the view beneath the table.

Just as Suna lifted his head, his father reached into his pockets, rummaging around for his carton of cigarettes. He tore open a fresh box—presumably from the convenience store—and placed an unlit cigarette in between his lips. He let it hang in the corner of his mouth before resting his hand along the handle of the front door near their table, looking back at Suna one more time.

Kenji sighed while gazing at Suna’s desolate state, muffling out his farewells. “It was nice catching up, kiddo. But unfortunately, we can’t do this again.”

With one foot out the door, Kenji waved goodbye to his eldest son, never knowing when—or even if he would be able to see him again. Impulsively, Suna quickly stood up in his seat, shouting for his father’s attention before he fully exited the restaurant.

“Wait!”

Kenji stopped in place with his unlit cigarette in one hand and an open zippo lighter in the other, turning his attention back to his son. In a final attempt to reconcile with his father, Suna clutched his hands and dug into his pocket, pulling out the list of who to contact in case he wanted a career within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, all curated by Utsui back at Schweiden Adlers Inc. It also listed prominent admins of the PSIA, which happen to be some of Kenji’s bosses.

“What if I work for the TMPD?” Suna breathed out, his hands shaking from holding the paper.

Kenji gazed at Suna for a moment, looking deep into his light green eyes—it was the same ones his own father gave him, and soon he passed them onto Suna. For that brief moment, Kenji saw a younger version of himself in his own son through the windows of his pupils, twenty five years younger, just a couple of years before Suna was born. He had just got his job within the TMPD, starting as a regional undercover detective. Soon after, he was then promoted to a similar position at the PSIA, continuing his undercover missions for the next few decades.

Kenji never imagined his own son would have the potential to become his protégé, but the vision he just witnessed a moment ago changed the trajectory of not only his life, but Suna’s as well.

With his body halfway out the front door of the restaurant, Kenji placed the lighter’s flame up to the end of his cigarette, huffing in a puff of smoke, finally exhaling it out into the open night air while disregarding the prohibition of smoking sign within the restaurant. He cracked a smile and closed his eyes, winking towards his eldest son.

“...how about working for the PSIA instead?”

Tokyo — Early Spring, three years ago

Throughout the next year, Suna redirected the trajectory of his life and decided to train under the joint operation of the TMPD and PSIA. Much to his mother’s demise, he packed up his things and moved from the apartment building in Nagoya where he’d lived all his life to a designated dormitory meant to house new agent trainees in the PSIA within the matter of a few weeks.

Most of his life Suna had lived in comfort, but transitioning so quickly to a brand new city left him in a whiplash—everything about Tokyo was completely different from Nagoya. Sharing a dorm room with three other trainees was something he hadn’t experienced before and it left Suna feeling incompetent. The others in his cohort had histories within the military, police, and judicial government—yet, Suna’s lack of education and inexperience within the workforce deemed him the black sheep of his class.

In fact, most of his fellow trainees resented Suna for landing a highly sought-after agent position due to complete nepotism—they teasingly called him “Nepo Boy” for short, all due to the fact he was offered a position within the PSIA without any formal qualifications other than being the son of the Chief Commander. Because of this resentment, Suna was subjected to a lot of bullying within his first few weeks of training. It got to the point where he was starting to regret ever coming to Tokyo, but fortunately in a matter of months, Suna began to quickly earn the respect of his cohorts.

Despite having absolutely no educational or physical training experience, Suna placed first in every assessment in the program. Although in the beginning it was an obvious struggle, he became the first person to pass every assessment with flying colors ever since 1995 back during his own Father’s training days. Suna became the top achiever of the physical training program, succeeding him from a bullying victim to the envy of his class by end of the year.

By the coming of summer, the PSIA new agent training program had commenced. Suna graduated top of his class, which soon privileged him to serve under an operation of his choice. Without any hesitation, he chose the upcoming mission led by his father that was previously put on a cold case a few years prior.

This particular mission was initiated by Suna’s father, Kenji, and his commander in charge at the time. They were focusing predominantly on the demolition of the Osaka dominated yakuza clan, the Kitagawa Daichii. Their goal was to take down the entire organization, first starting with their Trans-Pacific Trade Operations leader—he was the one to take down first, as he was the strongest on their defense line—he was also considered the most wanted criminal by the PSIA due to his power and connections amongst other clans.

Although, what mainly caused their mission to be placed on an indefinite hiatus in the first place was the clan had been subjected to internal conflict that resulted in the death of the clan’s trade operations leader. Because of that, the clan crumbled from within, leading to immediate arrests and the ultimate demise of the Kitagawa Daichii. By the end of the cold case, the clan reduced, leaving only a scatter of loyal members to fend for themselves.

For years, the PSIA was made to believe that the same Trans-Pacific Trade Operations leader was dead for years, up until recently where a tip was given from the TMPD regarding suspicious import activity from the Tokyo Freight Harbor. Upon agent inspection, it was no other than the same guy running the business again, just under a new employer, the Sakanoshita clan. Luckily for the PSIA, there was already a long standing history with the Sakanoshita clan regarding the multiple targets amongst the family and yakuza members.

Soon, Kenji was sent from Osaka to Tokyo to join the operation set to take down the Sakanoshita clan, slowly but surely gathering intel and waiting for the right moment to strike. Fortunately, half way through the operation—Mr. Sakanoshita, head of the Sakanoshita clan, unexpectedly passed away. From intel, his death was caused by inner turmoil within the immediate family, which ultimately decreased the amount of work the PSIA had to do for the mission.

During the first reconciliation meeting regarding the merge between the two operation units, Suna sat in the back of the table compared to the other high-profile agents sitting near the front. Amongst the others in the meeting room, Kenji stood at the front near the projector screen, co-leading the mission with the lead detective of the TMPD, Mr. Tanji Washijou.

“Let’s commence the meeting,” Kenji announced, gathering the attention of the dozens of agents within the room. “Let’s go over why we decided to merge two cold-case missions.”

Kenji cleared his throat and rested his left hand in the crook of his bulletproof vest, starting the slideshow up on the screen. Detective Washijou took a seat near the front, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“A little over three years ago, I was part of a mission down in Osaka led by Officer Aaron Murphy from the CIA to capture our main target working under the Kitagawa Daichii clan that was smuggling over a billion pounds of contraband drugs across to the United States from all major ports within Asia. We were unable to capture him during the time, though there was a rumor circulating from our intel that he was found dead in Manila, which caused the mission to be halted.”

Suna watched all eyes focus on Kenji, watching him speak and explain the details of the past operation. Albeit to him it was a fascinating case, Suna couldn’t help but think to himself that his father was still around in southern Japan, right under his nose in Osaka, only a town away.

He wondered if his father could’ve stayed throughout the rest of his childhood, how his life would have been so different if he’d lived in ignorant bliss in light of his father’s true identity—or would it have been better to know the truth and stick with him in the present moment, knowing all that he knew right now? In hindsight, to Suna, he was thankful that he didn’t end up with what he thought he wanted.

“Before we discuss the new outline of the mission, I would like to dedicate the start of this mission to Agent Rina Fujiwara, who sacrificed her life while on duty during the Osaka Café Driveby Incident. Rest in peace.” Kenji cleared his throat and lowered his head, as did Detective Washijou and the rest of the agents in the room. Suna followed suit, bowing his head in respect while the room remained silent.

Soon after, Kenji and Detective Washijou gave long synopses of the two missions prior, outlining the details of events that took place and what priorities needed to set in place for a successful mission. From what Suna could gather, there was a long timeline of events that took place between the locations of Osaka and Tokyo. The main target, a man that went by the nickname Cypher, was found amongst Tokyo’s underground street racing scene. He was flagged by another PSIA agent, putting him at the forefront of the mission.

Kenji soon found out that this man named Cypher had also been the Trans-Pacific Trade Operations Leader for the Kitagawa Daichii. It was shocking to him at first, given that there had been news of his death a couple years ago during the Manila Port Explosion, but seeing that he was still alive and well back in Japan gave a reason for him to resume the mission. The Kitagawa Daichii never revealed any names for their members, so to finally put a name to the man that was responsible behind the Trans-Pacific drug trade was one step forward to putting him behind bars.

“Detective Washijou and his brigade has been keeping a close eye on Cypher’s involvement within the Sakanoshita clan ever since he had been flagged for the December freight shooting. We’re targeting anyone involved in any business with the Sakanoshita clan, but as of now, because of the merged missions, we’re first focusing on Cypher.”

Kenji flashed a multitude of photos taken of Cypher from afar by the PSIA personal investigators, several of which were from the missions years ago in Osaka. Suna took note of his appearance, thinking to himself that he looked quite young. In his mind, he was expecting a middle aged man, but the photos showed a young looking guy no older than himself.

Although they might have been similar in age, they were on completely different levels of life experience. Suna’s eyes traced along the dragon tattoo of Cypher’s neck, wondering how a kid his age was able to become the sole person responsible for the trans-pacific international drug exchange at the age of nineteen, while also being wanted by the PSIA by the age of twenty. Now Suna’s learning about how he’s at the forefront of the underground street racing scene, working for Tokyo’s most powerful yakuza clan all before the age of twenty-one? It was baffling to know someone could accomplish all of that within a matter of a few years.

“We’ve decided to take the slow approach by sending someone capable of infiltrating Tokyo’s underground racing scene. It’s preferable to join one of their existing gangs, but it is not required. Remember folks—our approach this time is slow and steady. We do not want a situation happening where we get too close too fast. We wouldn’t want you guys getting into danger like it did with Agent Fujiwara.”

Everyone in the room nodded their head, understanding the precautions and limiting their proximity to the target. Although Suna acknowledged and understood the sacrifice described by Agent Fujiwara, he wondered what she did to cause herself getting into imminent danger. He tapped his foot against the floor, slumping back into his chair while his father continued on with the operation directions.

“…this is why we’ve appointed my eldest son, Rintarou Suna, to go undercover into the underground racing scene.” Kenji pointed his hand to the back of the room in Suna’s direction.

Within the blink of an eye, every person in the room gathered their attention towards him, observing every inch of Suna in comparison to Kenji. Like father like son , Suna assumed they would say as their eyes probed upon his features, spectating his every reaction and every move. He began to fiddle with his thumbs underneath the table, rubbing the tips of his fingers against each other; his hands stammering while placed upon the spotlight.

“Um, why me?” Suna croaked, shifting his eyes around the room, bouncing his focus between the dozens of agents staring back at him.

“We need someone young to infiltrate the underground racing scene, and with you as our youngest agent, no other would be perfect for the role.” Kenji beamed out with a bright smile, assigning his son one of the most important positions within the operation. “This is exactly what you wanted, no?”

“Um, I don’t even know much about cars,” Suna mumbled under his breath, scratching the back of his neck, feeling his body rise up in temperature. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“No worries, we have it all under control. You will be fine.” Kenji gave a reassuring wink towards him—the same kind of wink he gave all those years ago, moments right before he left for another ‘business trip’, similarly reassuring that everything would be okay until he returned. Unfortunately, just like back then, Kenji lied again.

Once the mission was set to start, they immediately sent Suna undercover straight to one of Cypher’s dealing spots, disguised as a guy looking to buy some of his supply. They provided Suna with cash and situated him at the end of a street alley on a block in Shibuya where he was scheduled to meet Cypher for a deal. Because this was his first attempt, the PSIA wanted to ease him into the mission—so to not seem too suspicious, Suna only bought an eighth of an ounce of marijuana.

Once the getaway car dropped him off a block from the meeting spot, Suna’s hands began to tremble and sweat profusely. He wiped them off on his pants and exhaled out into the night air, quickening his erratic walking pace. Within the far distance, he saw a figure standing at the corner of the alleyway, smoking a cigarette while leaning on the edge of the building. Suna assumed it was Cypher, cautioning his steps while he slowly approached behind him.

Suna cleared his throat before getting close enough to speak, holding the money tight in his hands. “…Cypher?”

At the time, the PSIA only ever knew him by his nickname. No one outside of his circle knew his full name, only ever referring to him as ‘Cypher’. Oikawa shot his eyes over to Suna without moving his head, observing the timid young man approaching him. While finishing the last of his cigarette, he put out the flame against the side of the brick building and placed it within an ashtray he carried with him, storing it back into the pocket of his bomber jacket.

Oikawa kept his head straight and responded in a low and raspy voice without looking up. “Who’s asking?”

His tone caused Suna to stammer in his words, fumbling to form a response. “U-um… me?”

Oikawa shifted his head towards Suna’s direction, his eyes peering straight at him. There was a brief pause between the two where only the street noises in the distance were to be heard. Suna’s heart began to beat erratically while he held the money tight in his hands—with the grip that he had, he would have been able to permanently damage the bills.

The silence broke when Oikawa leaned off the side of the building and walked towards Suna, placing both of his hands within his jacket pockets. While taking two steps back with every step Oikawa took, Suna managed to keep a safe distance between the two, unsure of what move he was going to pull. He observed that Oikawa’s bomber jacket pockets looked full, and he wasn’t going to risk the possibility of him keeping a weapon in one of them. Even with all the physical training the PSIA put him through, with Suna unarmed, there was no chance he would win against a gun.

Oikawa stopped in place once he noticed Suna cowering back up into the dark alleyway, continuing the conversation again. “Are you the one asking for only an eighth?”

“Um, yeah,” Suna immediately responded without analyzing what he asked. What did he mean by ‘an eighth’? Someone else in the PSIA set up the drug deal for Suna, so he had absolutely no clue how much he was actually buying.

“Five thousand yen.” Oikawa spoke out in a monotone voice, keeping his hands within his pocket.

“Excuse me?” Suna questioned, scratching the back of his head.

Oikawa glared at him, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s five thousand yen. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Without hesitation, Suna uncrumpled the cash in his hands, trying his best to count five thousand yen while straightening out the bills. Oikawa watched him struggle with the money, observing him drop the cash on the ground while he scurried to pick it up. Once he collected himself, Suna straightened out the cash and quickly handed it to him.

Oikawa counted the money to himself, making sure Suna gave him the right amount. The bills were damp from the sweat of his palms and crumpled throughout the face of the note. To most businesses, the condition of the money would be unacceptable, but Oikawa took pity on the naivety of the young man.

He sighed to himself while he neatly folded the money into his pocket and took out a small bag of marijuana with roughly around four large nugs of flower buds. The plastic was thick and tightly sealed without any leaks of smell, showcasing the intricate care for detail within the product. It was an expensive Indica hybrid, specially grown within the west coast of the United States. It was a luxury within Japan, and the hefty price tag came with it.

Oikawa tossed it over in the air, to which Suna caught haphazardly with both of his hands. He observed the small bag and the flower buds within it, questioning why this tiny amount of product was worth five thousand yen. Although the PSIA supplied Suna with enough money, they didn’t educate him with street drug etiquette, nor the knowledge of the market value. Suna didn’t quite understand what he was getting himself into—all the PSIA did was send him on his way because of how unassuming he was.

“Five thousand yen seems awfully a lot for this little,” Suna commented, pulling the bag up to his head and shaking it in the air with his eyebrows cinched in confusion.

Oikawa scoffed and rolled his eyes, smiling in disbelief. “You must be new to this.”

Suna gulped down what felt like a lump in his throat, flustered by his lack of awareness. Although Oikawa took pity amongst his naivety, Suna couldn’t help but feel embarassed by the whole interaction. What exactly was the purpose for in this deal? Didn’t Kenji mention they were going to take things slow with the mission? Why is he suddenly face-to-face with their main target?

Suna began to feel anxious, slowly coming to terms with the fact he’s in the same vicinity of a man wanted for murder. It felt sickening to know all the past details of the man in front of him without Oikawa knowing he was already aware of it. All of the past events he was informed of flashed through his mind as Oikawa reached into his pocket and grabbed another cigarette and hung it at the edge of his lips, slowly lighting it up. It became surreal for him to know they were close in age, but Oikawa had notoriously far more experience in life compared to him.

He pinched the cigarette between two fingers and pulled it away from his lips, quickly exhaling the smoke from his mouth. The air began to reek of tobacco again, something Suna knew he had to get used to on the job. “I usually don’t accept sales this little, but because you know Ushiwaka it’s fine, I guess. Just know, my clients usually buy over ten times as much as this.”

Ushijima “Ushiwaka” Wakatoshi was part of the underground street racing scene, but he became notorious within the TMPD as Utsui’s eldest son. Unfortunately, just like Suna, Ushiwaka and his mother fell victim to the PSIA dispatching undercover agents as they formed families before ultimately abandoning them all once the missions were declared finished. When he went rogue a couple of years ago, the PSIA started to use his name as a way for undercover agents to gain trust within the street racing scene—it was exactly the way the PSIA was able to get a “referral” to Cypher.

“Alright, get out of here.” Oikawa shooed him with his left hand, pulling in another puff of his cigarette. He gazed back at Suna, cracking a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t smoke it all at once.”

Unfortunately, Suna did not heed his warning.

Tokyo — Spring, two years ago

The drug deal with Oikawa unfortunately marked the beginning of Suna’s decline into a heavy addiction to marijuana and other copious narcotics.

The PSIA had a strict protocol to store away the drugs purchased through planned deals for observation, but surprisingly Kenji recommended for Suna to keep the product for himself, saying it would help with his assimilation while undercover as another street racer— it would make him fit in better and not stand out too much within the crowd.

Unfortunately, just like most things in his life, Suna took it too far and assimilated too well—in fact, he shifted his entire personality to fit into the character he had to portray for the underground street racing scene. It was a complete shock to his fellow colleagues who knew him as a shy and timid teenager when he first joined the PSIA, but now he’s turned over a new leaf.

It got to the point Suna started seeing Oikawa for drug deals weekly, spending his own money for a few grams of his supply. At first it was supposed to help him get into character while undercover, but Suna took it a bit far, looking for a daily fix at the height of his addiction. Every morning, he’d wake up and contact Oikawa, asking him if they could meet for another deal.

Their meeting spot wasn’t always the same place. Sometimes, Oikawa would ask to meet at different areas around Tokyo—sometimes at the corner of random bars, deep under Shinjuku station, or even on the streets of Kabukicho, right out in the open with other people around. Though, their most memorable deal was when he asked Suna to meet him at one of the races in Downtown Tokyo. That was where Oikawa introduced him to Kita.

In hindsight, Oikawa regretted ever introducing them. When Suna first met Kita, the Inarizaki Bois were just newly formed. Kita was looking for members to join, and Suna so happened to hit it off with him at first encounter. They bonded over familial issues, slowly but surely finding out they had a lot more in common than they realized. They could relate to each other more than just on a surface level, and sooner than later, Suna was initiated into the Inarizaki Bois.

Unfortunately for Oikawa, that meant Suna was no longer a source of money for him. Immediately after Suna’s initiation, he completely dropped Oikawa as a plug. There wasn’t much contact with him after that, since Suna now had an easier way of integrating himself within the underground street racing scene without much effort. Oikawa didn’t realize it would have negatively affected his business as well.

It didn’t take long for Suna to change physically, either. He started to dress in darker clothing, skip a few haircuts, added piercings to his ears and face, inked on a few tattoos—all within a couple of weeks, Suna looked completely unrecognizable from himself a year ago.

Although Suna looked the part, he still did not take any of the mission seriously enough, which caused him to ultimately slack off on his research and effort to integrate into the street racing scene. All Suna did was use the Inarizaki Bois as a way to get free weed and other drugs. He figured once he tackled the hurdle of trying to get initiated into a gang, it would be smooth sailing from there—but in fact, it was just the first step getting into the deep end.

Kenji was never impressed by Suna’s lack of initiative—he noticed his declining efforts in regards to the mission while simultaneously exploiting PSIA resources for his own personal benefit. There was never anything valuable Suna was able to report back for each check-in for several months, causing the mission’s plan to go a lot slower than intended. This led to Kenji scolding Suna at one of their check-ins, disrupting the barriers of their father-son relationship once he addressed the severity of the issue with personal matters.

“You’re too fucking soft,” Kenji scolded, hitting the table with his fists as he circled around the room. “I don’t think you’re actually cut out to be an agent.”

“I am though,” Suna retorted under his breath in a sharp tone, looking down at his reflection within the glossy black table. He frowned at himself, knowing deep down the words he spoke were in desperation to save his fragile ego.

“You better toughen up then,” Kenji snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is the real world. You can’t pretend to live comfortably anymore like you did back in Nagoya—you joined the PSIA, you actually have to work to fulfill a purpose.”

“I understand,” Suna mumbled through his closed teeth, gripping his hands while digging his fingernails into the sides of his palms.

“That’s it? You really don’t get it, do you?”

Kenji closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, pinching the bridge of his nose. A period of silence followed before he scoffed at Suna’s response, shaking his head slowly.

“We’re half a year behind on the plan because you’re slacking on your part. There’s never anything new you bring to the table, you have the same old excuse: ‘I’ll get it next time’. When will ‘next time’ actually happen? You can’t just say these things and never follow through on your word.”

Suna didn’t dare to look his father in the eyes. He kept his head low and his mouth shut while enduring the scold, staring down at his reflection in the table as it grew more distorted by the seconds.

“Do you want to be like your mom, stuck in Nagoya, being completely worthless, doing nothing with her life?”

“Don’t fucking talk about my mom that way!” Suna immediately jolted up in his seat, growling his threat in a deep and dark guttural tone. “She raised me when you couldn’t, so you don’t get to have a say in what she does, you fucking coward!”

It was hard for Suna to keep his tears in, letting them spill from the corner of his eyes down his cheeks. Quiet thuds of the tear droplets scattered the table beneath him as he gripped the upper strap belt of Kenji’s bulletproof vest, bringing his face close to his.

There was a tremble in his hold, feeling the adrenaline skitter through his spine. Suna kept his face still while he glared right at his father in the eyes who didn’t understand the severity of his words. Kenji did not know he struck such a large and painful vein within his eldest son.

“I didn’t join the PSIA to fulfill some stupid purpose,” Suna whispered through his teeth, still gripping the strap to Kenji’s vest. “I joined because of you.”

The pain he carried made its way over to Kenji, bearing the weight of the truth he spoke. Suna’s eyes were filled with tears while Kenji remained expressionless, unable to speak or respond to his own son. He continued to stare into his father’s eyes, seeing the characteristics he passed down to him up close for the first time—but these heritable traits meant nothing to Suna. They were just a reminder that there was no true bond in blood without first establishing a genuine connection, something Kenji was never able to do with any of his children.

“I joined because I was finally able to get to know my father because I never could while growing up. I wanted to spend time with you and bond with you, because I never really could while growing up. I wanted to be able to actually love my father, and say that I’m proud to be your son… because I never could while growing up.”

Kenji never realized how strong his prolonged absence affected his eldest son’s life. With Suna’s sister, his absence didn’t affect her negatively as she was too young to form the initial critical bond between parent and child—but unfortunately for Suna, Kenji left at the most critical point in his childhood that it completely altered his emotional attachment.

At nine years old, Suna has already recognized the role Kenji filled as his father and bonded with him accordingly—so when the father he once knew suddenly disappeared, Suna was left confused and frustrated, unable to understand why someone who was supposed to love and care for him would suddenly abandon him. The parental bond had formed but was never truly established as a connection between father and son.

“Rintarou, I’ve told you this many times before,” Kenji responded in a quiet, somber tone. The guilt he held for even uttering the words made even himself flinch at the sound. “I can’t be your father anymore.”

It was true, Kenji did remind him of that many times before, in fact, he made the disclaimer prior to Suna’s decision to join the PSIA. Though to Suna, he assumed his father would have a change of heart and their relationship would blossom while they spend more time together, but the reality could have been farther from the truth. Although their relationship was cordial, there wasn’t much past the boundaries of being colleagues.

Suna sacrificed everything he held dear and true to himself for the sake of being loved and approved by his father—his compassion, sense of self, and most importantly, his humanity. Yet, his efforts might have been for nothing.

In all honesty, Kenji didn’t even want to be a father in the first place, but he would have never admitted that. The pride he felt was too strong, and he would have rather let his children become shackled in the belief of the lie that he loved them than to set them free with the truth.

Suna thought Kenji was too immature to handle the responsibilities of being a father. It seemed he only agreed to father children because he needed to form a family to become as real as possible to fulfill his missions, thinking he would be able to save thousands of civilians from becoming victims to national security threats—yet, the true victims were the thousands of families neglected once these agents were done with their jobs.

Kenji fully believed his occupation as a PSIA agent was a sacrifice he endured to make sure Japan stayed safe, but unfortunately the only thing that was sacrificed had been the bond between parent and child. Suna was left to mature without a father figure present in his life, desperately searching for the man he once knew to fulfill that role again. His job was more important than any artificial family he created, and if he had a choice, he would rather abandon his family than to fail a mission—his father’s hate for failure will always be greater than his love for Suna.

Unfortunately, Kenji passed away in the morning of April 3rd, due to a failed PSIA Riot Police Unit mission—exactly one year before the daikokufuto race accident. An undetonated bomb exploded near the Tokyo Freight Harbor, taking the lives of nearly all of the PSIA Riot Police Unit members and several cargomen working on the docks. No one in a kilometer vicinity survived the explosion, while people within five kilometers sustained multiple injuries. Virtually all of Tokyo could feel the explosion with the incident being broadcasted nationwide.

The news didn’t get to Suna until later that evening until one of his superiors had contacted him about it.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he replied in a somber tone, gripping his phone tightly within his left hand. “He will be missed for his service.”

“Are you okay, Agent Sage?” The man on the other line asked concerningly. “I’m here if you need someone.”

A sustained silence crept through the phone with enough white noise present through the speaker, eating up the seconds on the clock. Suddenly, a light thud hit the microphone, accompanied by a whimper of sorrow. Just before a stream of tears erupted from his eyes, Suna immediately hung up the phone with his superior, throwing it across the room hitting one of the walls of his bedroom.

The deepest and most distressed wail of misery echoed through the chambers of the four walls encompassing him, rattling the ears of anyone in proximity—a sound so vile, yet so forlorn that it could send a skitter of shivers down your spine. Suna’s vision was blocked by the tears filling in his eyes while he submerged himself in the darkness of the night, drowning in the pain that demanded to be felt.

The only memory that played through Suna’s head was the way his mother found out his father had abandoned her, stricken by grief instantaneously, dropping her whole body onto her knees as she let out an anguished wail. He did not expect his father to strike twice; first with his mother and the other with him. Kenji had abandoned him yet again, a situation Suna had not expected, but didn’t ring as a surprise.

Familial trauma is so unique to the state of each situation, but for some reason, the death of his father felt virtually the same to him as when he left the first time—in fact, the first time he abandoned him might have been worse. It was as if he was bracing for the day his father would ultimately leave again; anticipating the blow so that it wouldn’t hurt as much as the first time.

Suna just didn’t expect this day to happen so soon.

Like mother, like son; Suna dropped to his knees as he clutched the fabric of his clothes close to his heart, screaming out into the void of darkness. He questioned himself why he held so much love yet so much hate for his father at the same time. Perhaps if he held the same beliefs as his mother and sister about his father, maybe he could have spared himself the pain of knowing. Ignorance is bliss, as they’d say—if he had stayed detached from Kenji, his death wouldn’t have caused so much distress.

As Suna wept into his hands, continuing to scream out silent curses into the air, he thought about if that was Kenji’s plan all along—to eventually spare him and his sister from feeling the pain of his untimely death. That was the consequence of working undercover for the PSIA, there was always an uncertainty in knowing if you would still be here on this earth tomorrow.

Yet Suna knew his father was not that kind—in fact, he assumed Kenji would think death was a way to escape from all the responsibilities he did not want to be responsible for, including being a present father to his existing children. If that was the case, he would truly be free from those burdens, ultimately passing on all the pain and trauma he held onto throughout his life directly to his eldest son.

Suna believed passing time was more torment than death.

The following months after his father’s death were the hardest for him to go through. During this period of time, Suna began turning to all forms of escapism to ease the torment of emotion and erase the consciousness of any sensation. He was rarely sober; always high on marijuana and narcotics, mixing ups and downs, rising high above cloud nine and then crashing down into the ninth circle of hell. It was more than just a routine of daily euphoric trips, it was an essential ritual he mustn’t skip.

His face, once so youthful in looks, now aged him years above where he should be. The dark circles under his eyes held the baggage he didn’t ask to carry, his skin sharing the same tone as his expressions; dulled. The whites of his eyes were never as white as they were supposed to be—instead, colored the same as a plucked vibrant red rose, with his pupils as green as the dying stem the petals were once attached to.

Just like his appearance, his whole demeanor changed for the worse. As he was once a shy but optimistic fellow, his attitude and behavior turned sour—he grew detached and cold from the world, all while masking it with a façade of conceited confidence and a ruthless edge. Before his father’s untimely death, he demanded for his son to “toughen up” for the mission—perhaps it was in Suna’s right to fulfill his father’s last wishes.

Despite his father’s death, the mission continued on in his memory with Detective Washijou now taking the lead. He promoted Suna as the main driver of the mission with his undercover affiliation as part of the Inarizaki Bois in the street racing scene, gathering intel amongst Tokyo’s most lucrative contraband trade. Detective Washijou in time became like a father figure to Suna the more they worked together on the mission, providing advice and supporting him emotionally if he needed it.

Though to Washijou, it was more of a way to manipulate Suna to essentially become his puppet within the mission, persuading him to do certain tasks he’d otherwise refuse to do. He’d use the incentive of promotions or additional bonuses, including benefits exclusive to support his mother and sister as well—and Suna always agreed. Washijou took advantage of his vulnerability, yet unbeknownst to him, Suna knew his motive all along and allowed him to.

His detachment and coldness came from the exhaustion of keeping his guard up. He was always so guarded around anyone and anything since the beginning, but it had led to more consequences than benefits. It was tormenting to know that everything in the world was a potential threat—every person, thing, and path. It was precisely this that he was so tired of. Deceit from Washijou. Lies from his father. Betrayal from himself.

Every little thing, every damned time—Suna had nothing to look forward to because that was what precisely happened every time he was foolish enough to even have hope in his life. It's that lonely guarding; that pained grasping of every wound at every moment, of knowing daggers are at every step, of seeing every drop of deceit, toil, and the background pointlessness of it all. It was within Suna at all times on all days, and it depleted any sense of real living for him.

Yet, the only thing that seemed to give any light to the worth of life was the thrill of playing Enigma—the street racer and drug dealer of the Inarizaki Bois. One of the reasons why Suna didn’t immediately leave the PSIA after his father died was the act of being undercover, submerging himself into another world for a few hours, forgetting anything of his past life. He created a whole new persona, a whole new ego—a whole new shadow self.

This was Enigma.

Enigma’s Secret.

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hadassah4ever · 2 years ago

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the three times they wished they kissed you, and the time you finally did (igby slocumb, greg hirsch)

warnings: alcohol use, sex mentions (no actual sex), reader being decently obvious, nothing too crazy, mild mild hurt/comfort

authors note: mother bird has come to feed you some regurgitated worms. i was going to add roman or tom in here, but i was already taking so long to finish the igby part, and i’m scared of making them ooc. enjoy tho. <3 (it’s 3 am and im barely awake. 💀)

word count: 3k

playlist (if you’d like): romanticizing my delusionship— https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6rLX5L9fLuEWueJz6lVaem?si=6gPlbG7LRLKd6aq_eNfp1g

igby slocumb

number one

Settling in was harder than Igby thought. He really didn’t think about how moving across the country with no roots in that area, or really anywhere, would affect him emotionally, but at least he was in California. A benign concept to his still frazzled brain, but he tried his hardest to block out any negative emotion, he got what he wanted, and that’s really all that mattered to him.

He found himself getting attached to strangers he thought were interesting due to the scenarios he made up in his head, and you weren’t safe from that. He first saw you studying in a cafe he frequented. Deducing the fact that you were probably only in there due to the fact that it was a particularly hot and humid day, and you were clearly studying for something considering the textbook sprawled in front of you, and by the fact that you were going over old notes.

His eyes grazed your facial features, but certainly for too long, as you moved your eyes from your notes to the young guy staring at you from across the cafe, he casually glanced away, but it was obvious he was just doing it just to avoid a staring contest with a random girl about 25 feet away from him. You quietly chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his staring problem, eventually he got sucked back into making eye contact with you, your eyes darting down to the empty chair in front of you, then back to him. Beckoning him with just your eyes.

It’s not every day he was asked to sit down with cute people at cafés, so maybe he’d seize this opportunity to get to know you.

number two

Neither of you were truly used to such mild autumn temperatures, being from different parts of the country. The fact that you moved from the more northeastern part of the states made him cling onto you even harder, you knew what it was like to pack up and leave everything behind, and he respected you even more for that.

“So, how’s college going?” He asked, not really knowing what else to talk about as you walked beside each other.

“Ew, small talk? Seriously, Igby, I thought you were better than that.” You spoke, playfully. “But, yeah, pretty boring. Can’t complain, though, considering I literally signed myself up for it.” You added. The dry, crunching leaves serving as white noise.

“I don’t really know what else to talk about. I’m not going to rant to you about… fucking… Kafka, like your little college boyfriends.” He replied, playing up his annoyance for laughs. “No, my college boyfriends talk about Dostoyevsky.” You joked back.

The way you two clicked was different, and also something he wasn’t used to, unlike anyone else who came before you, your chemistry was different, it was better. It was effortless.

“Have you made any new friends?” You asked. “Why do you care?” He retorted, not used to actually being cared about. “Because I can’t be your only friend. Sometimes I’m concerned for your social well-being.” You shrugged. “Although from your reaction, it’s safe to say no.” You glanced over to him and saw as he playfully rolled his eyes in defeat.

You really got him there. You really were his only friend, even though he truly wished you were more.

number three

As college picked up, you couldn’t help but wonder if there’s a life outside of California that would be worth pursuing. After you graduated, of course. It was still probably a mistake to bring it up so casually, you invited him over to have a relaxing night with a good friend. Instead you watched as his eyes slightly widened and his lips slightly curled into a frown.

“What? I— Where do you even wanna go?” Igby asked, clearly getting defensive, if you truly put two and two together, maybe you’d know truly how much he liked you. “Texas, maybe. Possibly Arizona.” You replied, pretending to think about it in the moment, but truthfully it was consuming your mind most of the time. “Who do you think you are? You wanna make out with a cowboy or something? What’s even over there? Tumbleweeds?” He bombarded you with questions, making it sound like he made California.

You inhaled slowly, to keep yourself from getting too angry at him. “I just really don’t know if California is my forever state. God forbid I try something new.” His simple offended demeanour swapped for a somewhat agitated one, “It’s not about that, it’s the fact that you’re so willing to leave me behind, you know you’re my only friend.”.

“Number one, I’d only leave after I graduate, and number two, whose fault is that? I’ve spoken endlessly about how you need to get some more friends and guess who didn’t follow my advice?” You ranted, irritation taking over your voice. Igby was left speechless, words escaping him aside from: “I’m leaving.”

He would be lying if he said you didn’t look hot while angry, but maybe that didn’t matter much anymore.

number four

You didn’t know if you wanted to be able to completely forget about Igby or have the lack of stubbornness to be able to go and apologise yourself. In reality, you had neither. Which is why you ran to pick up your phone when it began to ring, and how you ended up at his apartment door at 2AM with your tail between your legs.

When he heard you knock, he immediately opened the door, he was clearly standing right behind it, waiting for you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, it was odd to see the boy who was so snide and cynical look like a kicked puppy all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” He spoke in a voice that made you sure he’d been crying. “You know I can’t stay mad at you either. But I really shouldn’t have said some of that stuff, either.” You slowly began to move towards him, asking him if you could hug him without verbalising it, eventually you ended up with your arms wrapped around him. “You’re very likeable, and I don’t know how people don’t cling to your side and beg to be your friend.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, just taking in the warmth of your arms and basically basking in it. He used his socked foot to close the door behind you, in preparation for what he was about to admit to.

“I— you probably know why I said that stuff though.” He basically muttered, you didn’t answer in embarrassment, feeling like you should know. “Fuck, I… think I love you.” He spoke, a bit nervous to actually speak the three words he was essentially waiting to drop on you.

You didn’t even hesitate on pressing your lips to his, the kiss was magical, like how they described in the romance novels that made middle aged women swoon, it was abstract. Like warm hospital blankets, like rain in the evening, it was domestic and comfortable.

He attempted to slide his hand up your shirt, knowing what he was trying to do, you redirected it to your waist, the rejection not embarrassing Igby too much. He almost respected you for it more, you could be intimate without sex, and that’s truly what he needed at that moment.

Tender and warm, you two were utterly entranced with the kind of young love that elderly ladies comment about, and maybe Texas didn’t matter to you much anymore.

greg hirsch

number one

You found yourself sitting outside of the venue for the latest Waystar party, right on the last step of one of the staircases outside, the air was wet which signalled the fact that it was most likely going to rain soon. You heard the small taps of dress shoes behind you, getting closer.

“Uh— are you o-okay?” Greg spoke, you didn’t even turn around. Greg was a mere work acquaintance, someone you swore you would try and talk to more, but never really ended up doing so. He seemed kind enough from the brief interactions you had, though, so you really didn’t mind him speaking to you while you were trying to escape the party atmosphere, at least for a few minutes.

“Yeah. Just needed some space.” You replied. A small, awkward silence fell between you as the chatter from the party continued behind you two. “W-Would it be… Could I join you?” He asked, trying to sound confident.

You glanced up at him, a soft look in your eyes, but the rest of your face didn’t portray much. “Yeah.” You answered, voice getting slightly higher in an attempt to sound as non aggressive as possible. He awkwardly smiled and nodded, moving down to sit beside you. His long legs were almost against his chest, in an attempt to copy how you sat, you watched in silent amusement as he tried to move around and get comfortable, before inevitably just letting his legs just rest in front of himself, completely straight like toothpicks.

“Sorry if I’m intruding or anything.” He said, more so out of muscle memory politeness than actually apologising. “Out of all the people who could’ve possibly come and sat down next to me, I think you’re the one I hate the least. Don’t apologise.” You told him in a slightly monotone and tired, yet genuine tone.

He felt a light blush overtake his cheeks and his brain stopped functioning for a second, he was searching for any possible words he could string together to charm you like you just unintentionally did to him, but nothing came, he just stared at you like a scared puppy and let out a “Thank you.” that bordered on being muttered.

You didn’t really speak much on the steps, but there was a mutual sense that you didn’t really have to.

number two

“Er— y/n?” You heard Greg say behind you, you softly swung your desk chair around to look at him. “Do you wanna like… Come over after work? I’ve got a uh— bottle of wine and yeah.” The end of his sentence didn’t really sound like the end, sounding more like he just ran out of words. You nodded and gently smiled. “I’d love to, Greg.”

———

You knew that as soon as he uncorked the bottle it was never going to just be one glass. That was kinda just how wine worked, and at this point, you were tipsy enough to have no filter, but not enough to be full blown drunk, which meant you were both opening up about every little thing in your life like it was the end of the world. After a particularly deep question, you didn’t really know if there was much else to talk about.

Greg spoke up, trying to keep the conversation going anyway. “So… what do you think of like, ATN and st—“ “Could we save that kind of talk for the office? Not to be rude or anything.” You interrupted, Greg completely stopped and nodded. “I— yeah, yeah.” His voice got higher to show his non-confrontational-ness. “Sorry. I just swear I get a migraine when I remember what the company I work for actually stands for.” You joked, trying to cut the tension. “No, no. I understand.” He replied through an awkward chuckle.

There was a silence that was reminiscent of the night on the stairs but much more awkward. Greg took another chance to speak with you, “Have you, y’know… been in any relationships recently?” He asked, a realisation set in for you, the tone in his voice wasn’t casual enough. He liked you.

“Mmm…” You pressed your lips together and looked up in thought. “Nothing too recent, clearly. Dating in New York is weird.” You answered and looked at him to signal his response. “Yeah. Same. At least not lik—L-long term.” He rushed out, trying to lean back slightly on his sofa and look confident and suave, clearly you saw through it, though. The stutter not helping his case.

“Not gonna lie, that’s a bit odd to me. In my mind you seem like the kind of guy to either have a pretty decent girlfriend.” You stopped yourself from saying the last bit, but it ended up flowing out anyway. “Or fuck Tom. But either way you seem… Dateable. Compared to some of the people I’ve met here, at least.” You shrugged, feeling some of your own awkwardness come out of hiding.

He didn’t really know how to reply to that, he glanced down from your eyes to your lips then back at your eyes. He was feeling kind of lightheaded, your lips just looked too kissable, a thought which he knew wasn’t sparked from the alcohol, it was lingering on his brain for a while, fantasies about taking you out on a date and kissing you afterwards like a proper gentleman ran through his mind for most of the day, which was embarrassing to admit.

“Yeah cool, uh— you too!” He chuckled nervously, getting slightly sobered up by his own adrenaline. You just smiled and softly nodded, Greg felt something impending which never came to fruition. Your smile was like the whooshing of a guillotine through the air to him, he assumed it was you preparing to lean over and press your lips to his.

He was wrong about that.

number three

It was raining and you’d completely forgotten your umbrella like the idiot you are. It wasn’t just a tolerable drizzle, it was essentially pouring, Greg saw this as his opportunity to be in his own cheesy rom-com and offer to walk you home. Much to his surprise, you accepted. He really thought you’d just get a ride from one of your friends or get an Uber, but his heart definitely skipped a beat when you accepted.

His heart continued to skip beats when your shoulder would brush against his arm, he felt weird. He felt creepy feeling this way, but he really couldn’t change it. It was mostly silent aside from the occasional comment on how hard it was raining. You two knew how much you wanted to kiss each other, it was almost like if you tried to hold a normal conversation, you’d black out and wake up married to him with 2 kids in a typical suburban life.

His rom-com idea was cut short with you arriving at the front of your apartment. He didn’t even know if he could say goodbye without feeling a small ache in every inch of his body, but he did anyway. He stood looking into the glass of the front doors as you walked away, maybe you didn’t really like him in that sense. The only time you really showed clear interest in him was after 4 glasses of wine.

number four

You didn’t really know what you did to fuck up. Yeah, you two didn’t make out on the front steps to the entrance of your apartment, but you didn’t really know if that was grounds to stop talking to you. Honestly, you didn’t really know what to feel, so you defaulted to feeling pissed off at him.

Did you have a reason? Yeah. Kind of. Sorta. A little. Maybe.

In reality, Greg didn’t know what to say about that night. Was he supposed to apologise? Were you supposed to apologise? Did either of you have to? He had no idea. The need to kiss you was overwhelming at this point, if he saw a genie and only had one wish, kissing you would be the wish that rolled off his tongue in milliseconds. On the other hand, you were confused. Not really putting in any thought to thinking about what you actually wanted, you decided on closure.

The idea of your apartments being on the path to each other felt like divine intervention, but dear god was it hard to keep up with that lanky ass man.

“Greg.” You projected. Not necessarily a shout, but loud enough where he could hear you, you had very few people around so that was a plus too. His body completely took over and he immediately stopped and turned around to see you borderline running to catch up with him.

He didn’t know if he should’ve turned back around or stayed, but it felt like he was being weighed down, his feet completely anchored to the sidewalk and he watched you with a sympathetic and anxious look as you finally reached him.

“Fuck. I really didn’t plan what I was going to say. What did I do to you? You’ve been avoiding me like I fucking— killed your mom or something!” The frustration that came out shocked you, but you still spoke at a reasonable volume. “I— honestly, I don’t know.” He answered, realising he didn’t know why he stopped talking to you, cold turkey.

“I think that’s the worst part… I— do you even like me?” His voice had both an anger and sadness oozing out of it. “Of course I like you—.” You replied. “No, you know in what capacity I’m talking about. You don’t know how much you fucking affect me, y/n, just…” He trailed off, his typical anxious stutter gone.

You held the signature somewhat awkward pause that always graced your conversations and nodded. “You’re right. I know what you mean. And if you don’t fucking kiss me right now I’m going to go insa—“ He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he dove down and pushed his lips against yours in a very new display of confidence. His kisses weren’t very skilled, but fulfilling nonetheless.

He pulled back and looked down at you, your lips slightly rosier and held a look of ‘did I just fuck up?’ in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He spoke, his breathing heavy and quick, slowing down when he remembered you asked him to kiss you, and when he saw your extremely happy smile.

“Don’t you dare apologise, Greg. Kiss me again.” You chuckled, cheeks slightly pink and your voice filled with a lightness that eased him. You didn’t have to ask him twice and he bent over, much more gently, and kissed you again.

Jesus, he could do that all day.

#succession x you #succession x reader #succession x y/n #greg hirsch x reader #greg hirsch x you #igby slocumb x reader #igby goes down

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