#delivered in a bit of a brighter voice

[vaguely-concerned]

I know this is just insane shipping brain goggles and probably not objectively true in any way, confirmation bias in action klaxon and I acknowledge this fully and freely, but I swear to god that rook's thank you lines to lucanis in battle sound so much more weirdly... flirty than the ones for anyone else hfsjk. (in a fashion somewhere halfway between mannerly and😏. 'thanks, lucanis (politely restrained yet with carnal intent)')

[libbybee]

IN THE HEAT OF YEARNING — SA

◜pairing: astarion ⨯ fem!reader ◜rating: MDNI 18+ ┊ wc: 6K ◜cw: mentions of astarion's past, dependence, masturbation [M], anorgasmia [M], piv, cock riding, creampie.

▹ summary. after cazador's defeat, astarion faces something he thought lost to time; his heat. the unfamiliar sensation of longing and freedom makes him torn between the instinct to dominate and the desire to surrender to you.

A/N. english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

AO3 ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ PLAYLIST

‎

It had been weeks, perhaps months, since you helped him put an end to his master, Cazador. Even now, Astarion wasn’t sure how to feel or what to do.

The sensation of freedom hit him like a tornado tearing through his life, leaving him adrift and uncertain. Even the pronunciation of the words caught on his tongue, clinging to his throat whenever he tried to voice a trace of what he felt.

Declaring himself “unchained” sounded jarring to his ears, but, fortunately, there you were to help him adjust to these unfamiliar emotions that weighed on his shoulders. With everything that freedom entailed. Everything.

He hadn’t told you about this… personal problem of his. Truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, ashamed of what you might think or say if you found out.

After so many failed attempts, he stopped considering it altogether, only cursing himself for not telling you sooner.

Astarion knew it was foolish to feel so ashamed, especially considering the kind of person you were and how much better you treated him than the nightmares of his past—the loneliness that had surrounded him since he had begrudgingly accepted the curse of immortality. But, gods, just thinking about it made his throat tighten painfully and his hands tremble with cold sweat.

He tried his hardest to confess to you on those unique occasions you shared in private, when there was no one else around to overhear, but every time, he backed down.

Now, feeling this unbearable urge, he was determined not to say a word. Nothing in hell would make him… except his very self.

His lips whimpered pathetically, your name slipping through gasps muffled against the fabric of your panties. His eyelids squeezed shut, his other hand massaging the head of his cock tightly enough to hurt, desperately trying to mimic the sensation of your warm walls wrapped around him. Only to fail miserably.

His vampirism had awakened this cursed heat, a condition he loathed to the very core of his damned nature, yet he couldn’t prevent or fight against it. He had spent decades quelling his desires in solitude, without anyone to ease the craving when he needed it most.

The self-pity of it swelled his skin, feeling himself become so… damned “sweetly necessitous” and so lovesick for anyone who crossed his path in those times when he was still delivering prey to his master. But now he had you. And gods, you were going to be a problem. The faint traces of your arousal on the crushed fabric pressed to his nose were enough to drive him mad; you smelt so, so irresistibly good…

Fleeting memories of the first time he bit you flashed through his mind in a haze of desperation to reach his orgasm. The sweetness of your blood, like rich port wine on his tongue, was the finest thing he’d experienced in his entire existence.

He was quite clear just how thoroughly you’d unravelled his self-reliance. This inefficiency blazed brighter than ever in his mind each time he found himself dependent on you, and you weren’t there for him, just like now. Craving you in a way he hadn’t needed anyone in lifetimes.

The sheer sensation of having your naked body pressed up against his while he buried himself balls deep inside you. The feeling of the perfect, welcoming warmth from that exquisite pussy of yours, gripping him as if he were the most vital thing in your life… He’d give anything to feel you like that right now, having you to ease his agonising heat until his pain and loneliness were fully sated. But these thoughts only sent his urgency skyrocketing higher than ever.

The side of your shared bed still held your intoxicating scent. Pressing your panties to his sharp nose reminded him of how tightly your walls would clench around him every time he thrust in and out of your perfect cunt as he fucked it exactly how he knew to so well. An intense desperation took hold of him, slamming his clenched fist into his quivering pelvis to fuck his hand with a ferocity that echoed how he would fuck you again if you were here. By now, thick beads of his precum trickled from his swollen tip, sliding down his pale, agile fingers.

His silky white curls clung to his sweat-dampened forehead and nape, his teeth gritting in nothing but frustration at his inability to reach that elusive release. Each time he came close, the peak seemed to slip away, taunting him from just out of reach. But he couldn’t fully blame himself, because deep down, he knew he didn’t want to cum like this.

It wasn’t just the release he craved; it was you. Without you here, everything felt hollow; his touch was a pitiful substitute for the real thing. He wanted nothing more than to cum inside you, to hear the sweet, melodic sounds of your moans and gasps as his warm semen filled you, seeping out around the edges of his cock as he stayed buried deep within. He longed to watch you bask after your climax, knowing you were utterly his in that moment, both bound in bliss.

The fantasy gripped him, vivid and fierce—an impossible hope to leave something lasting within you, to fill you until he could almost imagine creating life together, even though he knew his cursed being would never allow such a thing. Yet the thought alone, however unattainable, only drove his need further, intensifying his urge to fuck you completely, as if every part of him belonged to you, even in ways that fate had denied him.

He tried once more to focus, though his body trembled atop the sheets with sheer need. He closed his eyes and fantasised about your pussy all reddened and swollen for him, glistening in your rich juices and so deliciously wet that you’d be dampening the sheets beneath you.

A deep flush spread from his cheeks to the very tips of his sensitive ears as he realised just how utterly charmed he was by you and how his mind overflowed with visions of you and only you. He could see it all so vividly: your gorgeous, tempting pussy, the soft contours of your breasts that fit his hands as though crafted just for him and his carnal lust, your lips swollen from his endless kisses, and your eyes glazed, pupils blown wide with pleasure.

Every detail of you was etched into his mind—an addicting vision he couldn't escape. You were the star of every lustful scene that played out in his imagination, the embodiment of his most desperate fantasies.

Astarion could almost feel the anxious pulse of your clit, just begging for his mouth and tongue. The thought of his lips grazing that sensitive bundle, tormenting it to the point of agony, filled his mind, and he could hardly help but drool. He could practically taste you, the luscious, toxicant sweetness of your arousal filling him as he’d lavish every inch of your cunt with his mouth, sucking and licking with ravenous need until you were drenched.

He let out a low, frustrated growl, swirling his closed fist just around his incarnate tip in a futile attempt to force his climax. But his mind betrayed him, flooding with vivid images of your sweaty body and the insatiable pussy he yearned so badly. However, he was pretty clear: nothing could replace you. Not his hand, not the fantasies that had become a poor substitute; nothing could come close to the reality he wanted.

In his mind, he saw you beneath him, legs spread-eagled, your lips calling his name in whispered moans that grew louder with each thrust. He could nearly feel your breath against his ear, filling him with the sweet sound of your whimpers, each one more desperate than the last. His hand felt pitifully inadequate compared to being buried deep inside you, his body pressed down against yours as he consumed every last piece of you.

He was completely lost, so absorbed that he didn't even hear the soft creak of the door or the faint shuffle of your footsteps.

In the quiet shadows of your bedroom, he trembled with the wrenching pain, torn between hunger and exasperation. His voice whispered out, barely audible, “My love… I need you.”

Astarion’s breathing came in ragged gasps as he chased a release that refused to reach him. Tightening his hand to increase his movement speed, he became almost frantic, as though sheer desperation could fill the emptiness of not having you. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a strangled moan against your panties, your lovely name slipping from his lips like a mantra.

You’d woken in the night, drowsily reaching for him only to find the other side of the bed empty, letting your hand land on cool sheets instead of his skin. Concerned and bleary-eyed, you went looking for him, thinking that perhaps a nightmare had drawn him away.

But nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you.

In the dim light spilling from the cracked curtains of a window, his silhouette trembled, his hips bucking desperately into his hand as if he couldn’t stand another second of the ache inside him. His cheeks were flushed with a feverish red, and his lips parted to release soft, breathless whimpers. His grip on himself was almost punishing, fingers digging into his flesh as he stroked with an almost frenzied pace, trying to force himself to the relief he sought but clearly struggling.

You inched closer, entranced by the sight of his body arching and tensing, brow knit in frustration as he let out quiet, ragged curses under his breath. His voice, thick with desperation, cracked as he whispered your name as if the mere thought of you was both a balm and a torment. He was so lost, so utterly engrossed in his aching need, that he didn’t notice your presence.

Unable to resist, you let out a quiet voice calling his name while opening the door, just loud enough to break through his veil.

He snapped open his eyes; his red irises gleamed in the darkness as he finally became aware he wasn’t alone. Astarion froze, lips parting in shock as his gaze met yours, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he felt instantly embarrassed with your underwear under his nose. The rich fabric of his Victorian shirt clung to his chest, slightly askew from his restless movements.

“I was… I wasn’t expecting you…” He managed to speak with a low, rough voice, as if pulled straight from the depths of his body. He relaxed slightly in an attempt to regain his composure, though his cock gave a subtle, instinctual thump against his stomach as he failed to suppress his arousal. Then he swallowed hard, the exposed skin at his throat glistening in the dim light from his sweat, his expression a blur of yearning and bashfulness.

You took another step closer to your old bed. The intensity of his state made your breath quicken as you took in every detail of his parted lips, the flush trailing to his ears, the slight tremor in his fingers as he tried to maintain them steady…

“Come here…” He reached out, inviting you. His eyes gleamed with want, and, at that moment, he felt himself wholly yours to possess and do whatever you wanted, but you didn't know just yet.

“Couldn’t sleep, Astarion?” You asked with both curiosity and… somewhat understanding.

Astarion let out a sigh while a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It seems I have… trouble finding satisfaction without you, my dear.” He lowered the fabric of your underwear from his face to leave it on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours, although his vulnerable yet unabashedly captivated emotions.

His delicate fabric slightly loosened at the collar and sleeves, a bit untied, his hair tousled… This image of him awakened something inside you, drawing you deeper into his charming and cuddly spell.

You reached for his hand, marvelling at how adorable he looked at this moment. With a serene smile, you settled beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sat close enough to feel his body almost touching yours.

Astarion let out a long, shaky breath, his body finally relaxing as he leaned into you, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. He was warm, and you could feel the faint tremor in his body as if something had unravelled his entire being. 

Then he let out a low, breathless giggle; the sound tinged with relief and a hint of humour. “You’re toying with me…” He murmured softly against your skin before placing a kiss on it with a touch of playful reproach. “Leaving me here all night… suffering by myself.” His words were light, but you could feel the weight behind them, the hollowness he rarely showed.

As his head rested heavily against your shoulder, Astarion’s fingers tangled in your hair, gently gripping it as if securing himself to you. His touch was both eager and tender as he instinctively snuggled closer to encircle your waist, seeking solace in your embrace. It was a stark contrast to that usually composed and confident vampire you knew, making him appear almost childlike as if he were looking for comfort after a nightmare.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer against you. The way he nestled into you made your soul melt in affection, but a flicker of concern crept into your mind as you wondered what had haunted him in the quiet solitude of the night. His sigh was soft, barely audible, and his grip on your hair tightened as if he feared losing you.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You asked softly while caressing his arm gently. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He furrowed his brow slightly, the weakness in his demeanour becoming more pronounced. “I suppose… I thought I could manage. But it seems I could not.”

Before continuing, he took a deep breath to steel himself. “There’s something I haven’t told you… something I’ve been trying to suppress.” As he spoke, his eyes peered at your face, a mixture of uncertainty and yearning reflected in their blackness. The playful humour that often danced in his gaze was gone, replaced by a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings.

You searched his eyes to urge him to continue while your thoughts were already wondering what it could be. “What is it?”

Astarion swallowed hard, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his emotions. “I… I’m in my heat…” He finally confessed. “After everything that happened with Cazador, I thought I could control it and push it away. But it’s relentless. This… need; it’s too much, and I’ve been fighting it alone for so long.”

You instinctively pulled him closer, the warmth of your body against his providing a gentle anchor in the storm of his turmoil. Feeling a surge of empathy, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek, hoping to erase any sense of his silly shame. “Astarion… You are not alone any more. I’m here… with you.”

He leaned into your touch, a faint shudder passing through him as he let out a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly for your words. “I didn’t want to burden you with this, darling…”

“You could never be a burden to me, silly.”

A liberating glint passed through his eyes before they narrowed slightly, his expression gentling as he leaned his cheek into the warmth of your hand. “So tell me, my darling… what are you going to do with me now?” He asked sweetly, smiling with some curiosity, as though he were either coaxing you forward… or daring you to finish what he’d started.

You held his gaze for a few seconds longer before letting your eyes drop to his hard, aching length.

You slowly pull out of his embrace to rise from the bed, then with unhurried motions, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of your pyjama trousers and your panties, sliding them down your legs. The fabric fell to the floor, quickly joined by your bra, leaving you bare before him. The chilly winter air grazed your skin, causing a shiver to dance along your back and harden your nipples instantly.

“I’m going to take care of you…” You saw how his eyes roamed over every inch of you with his usual intense, hungry gaze, caressing your body as though it were a precious treasure he could finally hold.

Astarion’s gaze returned to yours with a warm, wide smile, brimming with adoration and desire. “You’re…breathtaking…” He murmured, almost as though speaking the words out loud might shatter the moment.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, so open, so vulnerable, and so utterly yours. You settled back onto the bed beside him, leaning close as you placed a soft, reassuring kiss against his cheek. Letting your hand drift from his thigh to his lap to wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling the hardness of it, respond immediately to your gentle touch by throbbing excitedly. You began to slowly stroke him, keeping a slow yet steady rhythm.

He moaned softly, his head fell back, and his eyes closed while a subtle shudder ran through him. His fingers instinctively clung to your arm; the look of pure need etched from his face only spurred you on. Your strokes grow firmer as each pass of your hand drew a new, delicious sound from his delicate lips. During that, you leaned closer to let your warm breath graze his neck before you started to spread soft kisses along it.

His usual composure had crumbled, giving way to a raw, unrestrained need—a desperation born of decades of unsatisfied feelings and the maddening ache of his heat. He tried so hard to find satisfaction, but nothing had ever been enough since he met you. Only you could soothe this torment and bring him the relief he required.

You pulled back slightly from his neck, meeting his eyes as you paused your attentions to gently nudge him onto the bed. He didn’t resist at all, allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him and looking at you with sparkling impatience across his darkened pupils.

You ran your hands along his thighs one more time, fingertips tracing over every taut line and curve, savouring the feel of his skin. As you settled on the mattress to straddle his hips, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, your lips grazing over the fabric stretched over his torso. Your hands travelled up, resting on his chest, where you could feel his muscles tense beneath his clothing. With a teasing smile, you left a gentle trail of kisses along his uncovered chest, up to his collarbone, and finally brushing your lips along his jaw.

His hands locked to your thighs, his breaths warm as he relaxed in your presence. He allowed himself to be vulnerable before you, and it was unlike anything you had seen in him before. He looked as though he might beg at any moment, desperate and undone. His fingers trembled slightly as he held you tighter, sliding his hands up to grip your hips.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, although you already knew the answer well, just to savour this moment, having him so needy for you.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his answer slipping out almost without thought. “Yes.” His voice was harsh, barely holding together as he looked up at you in admiration like he could hardly believe he was so close to the release that he’d been yearning for.

Astarion moved his hands from your hips to your waist, guiding you down as he suppressed a desperate groan, his head tipping back into your pillow, still infused with your intoxicating scent. “My darling…” He purred, calling out to you. “I need you, please…” The words spilt from him with urgency, though his seductive edge persevered. His hands gripped your hips again, uncertain where to grab, only knowing he wanted every part of you. “Pretty please…”

At the same time, your other hand slipped lower, cradling his sac and massaging softly in rhythm with each stroke. His sighs came faster, a soft groan escaping him as your fingers trailed along his sensitive skin.

The transformation in him was almost endearing, watching his pride melt in the face of his heat. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming as he let slip those velvety, magical words.

Reaching down, you let your fingers brush over the base of his cock, feeling the rigid heat of his arousal. You spit into your palm and took his hardened cock to slick him out, stroking him slowly up and down. You weren’t entirely wet yet, and you wanted this moment to be as perfect as possible for him.

You moved your focus to his swollen, pulsing glans now, slick with precum that had trickled down his length. You continued stroking with both hands now, smoothing the warm fluid mixed with your saliva to make sure he was well lubricated. Finally, positioning yourself, you let the head of his cock rub your clit and your entrance.

You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation until you heard him release a strangled moan, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as if holding you could somehow ease his ache. Reopening your eyes, you saw his flushed cheeks and closed eyelids, and you felt captured by his vulnerability. Your heart pounded against your chest at seeing him so… exposed to you.

Although you were keenly aware of his need and, in a way, his impatience to bury himself inside you, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to draw out this special moment as long as possible.

Finally, you let the head of his cock kiss your entrance, beginning to lower your hips as you felt the delicious stretch of your slit as it let him through and of your interior accommodating him. You felt yourself tighten instinctively around his thick length, your walls gripping him as he slid deeper within.

Once he was fully seated within you until his tip was pushing against your cervix, you began to rise and fall slowly. Rolling your hips slightly forward and back, you felt the rigidity in his cock and every vein deliciously caressing your walls. His grip tightened as he released sweet, breathy sighs with each massage you gave his cock with your cavity, his eyes fixed on you, utterly enraptured as he felt himself dissolve beneath you.

“Just you…” His voice trembled with a tone you haven't heard from him. “I’ve needed this… needed you… for so long. I tried to resist… gods, I tried… but nothing, nothing else could…” His words trailed off in an involuntary moan as his pelvis lifted instinctively to feel every inch of your insides squeeze his painfully swollen cock.

A satisfied moan escaped your lips as you watched him giving in to pleasure, his expression lost in bliss. Spurred by his urge, you began to move with more eagerness, riding him harder and faster, your pelvis colliding with his in a wild rhythm. Every thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you both as your hips moved in perfect sync.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you leaned down to capture his lips, and he responded with a yearning whimper, returning the kiss with impatience. “I’ve never seen you like this, Astarion.” You murmured against his lips, admiring the flush across his cheeks. “It’s… adorable.”

He let out a soft, breathless laugh, though his voice was thick with longing. “I’m yours, my love…” He confessed in a low tone, holding your gaze with an unusual intensity, his eyes shining. “With you… I can’t help but lose myself…”

His hands slid up to grip your waist, attempting to guide at least your intensity and reclaim a hint of control, but you took his hands in yours. Sliding them over your torso to your breasts, letting him grab them and feel the softness of them. "Love, let me…” He raised his hips once more to penetrate you deeper. His need to bury himself inside you almost agonisingly, each motion making his tip hit your sensitive G-spot and coax gasps from your lips as he struck it with raw precision, just as your cervix.

You threw your head back, a strangled whimper escaping as the blend of pleasure and faint pain sent shocks through your womb.

“Astarion…” You called after recovering your breath just enough to let your lips brush his ear. One hand tangled into his silky hair while the other traced his chest, your fingers skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Let me… I want to make you feel good, my love…" You whispered, letting your breath ghost over the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling him shiver beneath you because of how responsive he was to your closeness.

Astarion’s throat caught at the sensation of your warm lips on his neck from your sudden smooch, his fingers tightening around your breasts. A sly smile played on his lips, though his usual sharp wit softened because of his heat.

“Oh, my darling…” He rasped with his tone both a plea and a command as his fingers slid down to your hips, anchoring you closer. “You already do make me feel good… so exquisitely good.” His lips found the spot behind your ear to press a kiss against it. Descending to the curve of your jaw, and then lower, tracing a path full of delicate, heated kisses down to your neck.

Then he pulled you, rolling you onto the mattress in a sudden but gentle motion. His body hovered over yours as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you beneath him. “But I think it’s time I return the favour.” His voice dipped into a low growl, his thumb smoothing against your cheek as he cradled it. “Let’s see just how well I can repay you, love…” He whispered before diving to your lips with a ferocity that left no doubt of his intentions.

Every single touch and lingering kiss was a deliberate act of his devotion, focusing entirely on bringing you to the same heights of pleasure he so desperately craved.

Your lips crashed against his with a passion that mirrored his, a burning hunger in every kiss. You tangled your fingers into his silken, white hair to hold him close, refusing to let an inch of space between you. Your other hand gripped the fabric of his shirt in his waist, tugging it firmly, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

Before drawing you into his embrace, he positioned his cock at your entrance to enter back inside you, joining his hips firmly against yours with a delicious thrust that made your clit kiss his bare pelvis. A guttural groan escaped his mouth as he responded eagerly to your touch, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. Each of his movements quickened, his hips surging forward with growing intensity, each thrust driving you both toward a shared frenzy. Impulsively, he broke the kiss to trail his lips along your neck, leaving a searing path of devouring kisses and grazing your skin with his fangs, sending a subtle shiver through you.

“Gods, you're… intoxicating.” He whimpered roughly between kisses. His hands slid to your hips, gripping you rigidly to guide your body in time with his as he fucked you. His lips stayed on your neck, savouring every moan you gave him, lost in the sensation of your bodies moving together with an urgency that none of you could contain.

Astarion’s hand grabbed firmly at your nape, his fingers threading through your hair as he held your head in place against his shoulder. Positioned snugly between your legs, his thighs lifted yours, angling you so that every inch of his cock entered your pussy, leaving no space unfilled.

He bobbed his hips forward with a ferocious, exhausting pace that drove him impossibly deeper into your cunt, his mouth returning in trailing hot kisses all over your skin. His grip on your nape tightened with each surge of his pelvis against yours, anchoring himself in the intensity of it, feeling how your walls massaged and vibrated around his cock. His other hand gripped your waist, drawing you closer to him as if he wanted to merge your bodies completely.

The rhythm had become urgent and desperate, his mouth leaving feverish kisses along your neck and shoulder as his pace grew erratic, driven by the overwhelming, raw desire consuming him. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you more tightly as his thrusts grew harsher.

The fire in your body was exactly like his, a blazing need that surged with every stroke. Your hand slipped down to your swollen clit, fingers stroking it in synchrony with his pleasurable thrusts. Your actions only seemed to drive him further; a primal growl escaped his lips as his hips snapped forward with a force that stole your respiration.

“Look at you… so eager for more…” Astarion purred, his tone rasping and dripping with lust. His crimson eyes roamed down your body, pausing at the place where your fingers moved against yourself. He observed entranced how your fingers stroked your entire clitoris, slick and needy while meeting each of his thrusts. The sight seemed to inflame him, his pupils dilating as he devoured the scene before him. A wicked grin curled on his lips. “You’re utterly delicious… I can hardly resist the urge to devour you whole.”

His voice was thick with desire, and how his crimson eyes darkened further made your heart race. You could see the pure hunger burning within him, igniting an answering fire deep in your lower belly. As you continued to stimulate your clit, the tension grew unbearable, stretched so taut that one more push, one more touch, was all it would take to send you both over the edge.

He dipped his head, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to hear every delicious sound you make, every gasp and moan.” He murmured, the rasp in his voice thickening with each thrust.

As if in response, you moaned louder, the heat pooling between your legs intensifying as you clung to him. The urgency in his movements grew, his thrusts becoming a frantic tempo, pounding into you with a force that sent waves of ecstasy crashing inside your entire pussy. You could feel him nearing his peak, the way his cock hardened impossibly harder inside you, leaving copious amounts of precum between your walls. The quickening pace of his breath and the tightening grip on your hips only made it more evident.

“My love…” He purred, his voice a seductive growl that resonated deep within your pussy. “I want to feel you cum around me…”

“Please…” You pleaded in a whisper, not fully sure of what you were pleading.

Astarion surged forward, claiming you with a fervour that stole the breath from your lungs. Every thrust felt overwhelming, as though he were trying to mark you as his own, to leave a lasting imprint on your body and soul. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, a primal dance that sent shockwaves through you both, pushing you closer to the precipice of bliss.

As the words sunk in, you felt your walls tighten further around his cock. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and the delicious pressure built higher and higher, threatening to spill over.

“Together…” You gasped, feeling the edge draw nearer. “I—” His lips crashed against yours in a fierce kiss, drowning out your words as his tongue rapidly tangled with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you entwined in this frenzied embrace. And then, as if replying to your unspoken plea, the dam broke.

Your climax hit you like a storm, pulsing through your core and leaving you spent as your arms tightened around him and your hips moved to fuck his cock as well. Astarion let out a shuddering moan that broke the kiss, his grip almost bruising you as he reached his own release, his body trembling and spasming as yours with the intensity of it. You felt his warm cum exploding inside you, each release sending a delicious sensation up your womb and cervix, prolonging the endless pleasure crashing through you. His hands held you against him as you both rode out ecstasy, lost in the shared, heady sensation of being completely intertwined as he kept buried inside you.

You clung to him, surrendering to the exquisite moment, feeling utterly consumed by the heat and the connection that bound you together. The aftermath left you gasping for air with your heart racing, both of you lost in the afterglow of passion.

As the lingering waves of your climax subsided after a while in each other's arms, you gazed at Astarion, a playful smile tugging at your lips. His tousled hair fell charmingly over his forehead, and a layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making him look beautiful and irresistibly enchanting.

“You know…” You started softly with a glimmer in your eyes, “You look absolutely adorable like this, all consumed by your heat.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his brows knit together in playful disbelief.

“Adorable?” One of his eyebrows went up. “I assure you, my dear, that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Oh, come on!” You replied, laughter bubbling up like the sweetest melody for his ears. “Just look at you! You’ve never looked more charming—practically irresistible!”

He warmly chuckled, a rich sound that filled the air with joy. “My dear, I was merely indulging in what is quite natural for me. Thank you.”

You feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over your heart in mock shock. “Darling! Just admit it! What an honour it is to see you in such a cute light! Who knew a fierce vampire could also be a cuddly little beast?”

Astarion rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips was an undeniable admission of his enjoyment. “Cuddly? Now you’re pushing it, sweetie.”

“Maybe.” You said, leaning closer to him as your eyes sparkled while you batted your eyelashes playfully. “But honestly, there was something so sweet about you right now. You were so lost in the moment, like watching a passionate artist at work.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff, his attempt to maintain composure failing delightfully. “I suppose I must allow you this little delusion, but do not mistake my passion for cuteness.”

“Whatever you say, my fierce little vampire.” You joked, inching even closer. “But I stand by my word. You’re absolutely adorable.”

With a soft, fluttering laugh, you reached up to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. The moment felt electric, charged with love and affection. Astarion’s lips curled against yours before reciprocating your kiss, and for a fleeting second, the heat of passion intertwined with the sweetness of the moment, turning the surrounding air into something truly magical.

As you pulled back, you found him looking at you, a soft smile gracing his features that melted your heart. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” He murmured in a playful voice mixed with exasperation and fondness.

“Only for you.” You replied, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “And I think you love it. A reason more to the list for being with me!”

“Don’t say it too loud.” He replied, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his bravado.

You laughed, his presence enveloping you as you revelled in the playful banter, your hearts intertwining in the sweetest ways. At that moment, every worry faded, leaving only the bliss of shared affection, laughter, and the delightful intimacy of you two.

‎

[sadplaguedoctor]

snowed in

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: a simple mishap during a meeting with a piltover client almost cost you not only your life, but your dignity. luckily, silco was able to find you and guide you to take refuge in a nearby cabin to wait out the storm.

tags: cliche snowed in trope, silco’s a little mean at first, smut in final chapter, kinda angsty, hurt w/ comfort

one, two, three

The snowstorm came fast, an icy hand snatching the sky and smothering the land in white. The wind howled through jagged mountains, a sound that clawed at the edges of your mind and the small cabin you’d stumbled across creaked as though the storm might rip it apart.

Inside, the air was scarcely warmer than outside, but it was shelter. A merciful reprieve from the snow. You huddled closer to the meager fire you’d managed to coax to life in the dusty hearth, frozen fingers trembling as they extended toward the flickering warmth.

The sound of the cabin door slamming shut came from behind you and sent a jolt up your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was— the measured steps that followed, the click of polished boots on wooden floorboards— they were unmistakable.

Silco.

The man in question shook the frost from his coat, his bad eye burning brighter in the dim light than the fire itself. For a moment, his gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, as though assessing every weak point of the fragile structure. Then his attention landed on you.

“Well,” he said, his tone razor sharp and coated in disdain, “I didn’t take you for the sort to thrive in adverse conditions.”

You bit back a retort, forcing yourself to focus on the fire. The snowstorm might have stranded you both in this miserable excuse for a shelter, but you weren’t about to play his game.

He crossed the room with deliberate slowness that made your skin crawl, removing his gloves finger by finger before crouching at the edge of the hearth. Silco’s presence loomed even as he knelt, his mismatched gaze flicking to the fire and then back to you.

“It’s weak,” he muttered, nodding to the flames, “if the storm doesn’t kill you, that poor excuse for heat will.”

“I don’t see you helping,” you shot back, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silco’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk— or a sneer. “Because I was busy ensuring this hovel would remain standing, “he remarked, motioning toward the door he’d semi barricaded with snow dampened boards.

“But by all means, continue blaming me for your failings. It seems to be a habit.”

Your stomach churned at the reminder. This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Silco had entrusted you with a simple task: deliver a message to a Piltover contact and return to the safe house before nightfall. But somewhere along the way, you’d taken a wrong turn. The storm had hit before you realized your mistake, furious winds obscuring landmarks and swallowing every sound except the relentless scream of the gale.

By the time Silco had found you wandering through the snow, it was too late to make it back to the safe house or to the Piltover contact. You hadn’t even had the nerve to look him in the eye when he silently took the lead, guiding you to this miserable excuse for a shelter.

“I didn’t—” you started, then stopped. What was the point? There was no excuse that would satisfy him, no explanation that would make you seem less foolish.

Silco’s expression didn’t shift, but his gaze pinned you in place. “What?” He asked, voice low and sharp, “you didn’t think? You didn’t realize that a single misstep could jeopardize everything?”

You pressed your lips together, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. Silco’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, cutting into you like the icy wind outside, before he scoffed softly and leaned back on his heels.

“Typical,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, “you’ll find your excuses when it’s continent. Meanwhile, I’ll ensure we survive the night.”

The disinterest in his words burned, but before you could respond, Silco was already moving. He stood, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair, muttering something about how it didn’t do any good soaked. Beneath it, he wore his usual vest and dress shirt, his hands undoing the rolls so they covered his arms, definitely doing less than enough to keep him truly warm.

You shivered and glanced at the fire. it wasn’t enough to ward off the cold seeping through the gaps in the cabin’s walls.

“I’ll look for more firewood,” you muttered, more as an excuse to escape the suffocating tension than out of necessity.

“Don’t bother,” Silco’s voice stopped you before you could even stand. He leaned against the wall near the fire, arms crossed as his good eye pinned you in place, “you’d only get yourself lost or worse. The wind would bury you alive before you could find so much as a twig.”

You clenched your fists, heat rising in your chest for the first time all night. “So what, then?” you snapped, “we just sit here and freeze while you glare at me like this is all my fault?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering you in that unnerving, calculating way of his. “No,” he sighed, after a pause that felt far too long, “we ration the heat and wait out the storm. If you’re not entirely useless, you might even make it through the night.”

Your nails dug into your palms, but you forced yourself to look away. He wasn’t wrong about the storm— or the danger— but his words still stung. You shifted closer to the fire instead, pulling your knees up to your chest in an attempt to preserve what little warmth you had.

The silence stretched out, broken only by the groan of the wind and the crackle of the fire. It wasn’t long before Silco moved again, retrieving a small flask from his discarded coat. He took a measured sip, his eye watching you.

“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice as neutral as the icy air.

Bristling at his observation you muttered a quiet, and slow “I’m fine,” as to not give your teeth an opening to chatter.

“Fine doesn’t survive a storm like this,” he stepped closer, extending the flask toward you. His movements were calm, deliberate, but there was no mistaking the edge of impatience in his expression.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the flask, “what is it?”

“Something to keep you alive,” he responded with a tone that hinted to the answer being obvious, “now stop dithering and drink.”

With a sigh, you took the flask, your fingers brushing his briefly as you brought it up to your lips. The liquid inside was sharp, burning a path down your throat, but it send a wave of warmth through your frozen limbs. You handed it back quickly, unwilling to meet his gaze for too long.

“Better,” he said, though there was no trace of real praise in his tone. He capped the flask and tucked it away, returning to his place near the fire.

Silence fell again, heavy and awkward. For the first time, you noticed the faint tremor in Silco’s hand as he adjusted his cuffs— a sign, perhaps, that even he wasn’t immune to the cold.

“Why did you come after me?” you blurted out, the question escaping before you could stop it.

He didn’t look at you, but the pause in his movements was telling. “I don’t leave loose ends,” he said simply, “especially not ones that can be traced back to me.”

You all but flinched at the coldness of his response, but something about it didn’t ring entirely true. Silco was practical, yes, but you doubted he would have risked his life for practicality alone.

“Right,” you uttered quietly, leaning your head back to take a deep breath before ushering it all out, “loose ends.”

As the fire crackled, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was all you were to him despite all the, all be it, rare, laughs you shared in his office— or if there was something more lurking beneath the surface of his calculated words and demeanor.

You stared into the flames, wiling the quiet to stretch on, even as you felt the weight of Silco’s eye still boring into you. It was a question scrutiny, but it was there, like he was turning over every word you hadn’t yet spoken.

“I didn’t mean to get lost,” your tone hushed, breaking the silence. Your voice sounded small in the vast quiet, almost swallowed whole by the wind.

Silco shifted, the creak of wood and leather drawing your attention. He didn’t scoff this time or offer some cutting remark. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his good eye narrowing as he considered you.

“I know,” he said at last, the words low and almost begrudging, “but intentions don’t matter when you jeopardize something larger than yourself.”

You kept your eyes on him, determined not to look away just yet, “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“No,” he replied, his voice colder now, sharper, “ you didn’t think at all.”

The accusation hung between you, heavy and unyielding, but then something softened. He looked back to the fire, lines on his face easing ever so slightly.

“But you’re still here,” he murmured, almost to himself, “ that counts for something.”

You blinked at him, surprised. It wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it was condemnation either. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Barely,” you remarked, half under your breath.

Silco huffed a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so dry, “barely is still enough.”

The silence returned, but it felt different now— less suffocating and more tolerable. You shifted your position near the fire, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t seem like the type to come out all this way for someone else,” you spoke up, testing the waters of his patience.

Turning his head slightly, his expression unreadable in the light, “what type may that be?”

“The type to care.”

It was a bold thing to say, but you were too tied and cold to care. To your surprise, Silco didn’t lash out or dismiss you. Instead, he leaned forward, settling himself down on the ground by the fire, resting his elbows on his knees while his fingers laced together as he stared into the fire.

“Caring,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharpness dulled, “is a liability. A distraction.”

You frowned, caught off guard by the raw edge in his tone that you thought you worked hard enough to get past, “then why did you?”

His mismatched gaze flicked to you, holding yours just long enough to make your stomach twist. Then, he looked away, jaw tightening.

“I told you,” he said, his voice measured, “I don’t leave loose ends.”

It was an answer, but not the one you were looking for. Still, you let it lie, sensing that to press further would be to overstep some invisible line he wasn’t ready to cross.

The fire continued to crackle between you both, its warmth a fragile bridge over the unspoken tension. You shifted closer to Silco, your movements slow and a bit strained from the cold— not too close, but close enough to feel less alone in the emptiness of the cabin.

“You know,” you said quietly, the words escaping before you could stop them, “you’re not as untouchable as you like to think.”

His head turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he studied you. You thought, for a moment, you’d gone too far, but then his lips curved into something faintly resembling a smirk.

“And you’re more reckless than I thought,” he countered, his voice for once, free of venom.

Laughing, you shook your head, “fair enough.”

The tension between you dissipated again, this time settling into something that felt almost like mutual understanding. Silco leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing ever so slightly, though the sharp edge of his presence remained.

For the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

The fire was fighting a losing battle against the cold, and it began to dwindle. The walls weren’t enough to keep the frost at bay and the storm showed no signs of relenting. Despite the safety and even comfort Silco offered opposite of the crushing loneliness, the sharp chill in the air reminded you that survival was far from guaranteed.

You moved closer to the fire, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Every breath was a cloud of vapor and your fingers were stiff, body trembling despite your best efforts to stay still.

“Stop that,” Silco said abruptly, his attention snapping towards you.

“Stop what?” you asked, tone a little sharper than intended.

“Shivering so obnoxiously,” he replied as if it was a casual complaint, “it’s distracting.”

Glancing away from him with a huff, you stared into the fire instead, doing your best to stop the shivering that did not want to ease up on you.

Even then, Silco didn’t let it go. Instead, he sighed and pushed himself closer to you. He sat beside you now, his shadow stretching long in the firelight, his mismatched eyes locking with yours.

“You’ll freeze like that,” he pointed.

“I’m fine.”

While your words were shrouded with intent, your body trembled, betraying you.

Silco reached for the coat he’d draped over the chair and shook his head, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out. Then, before you could protest, he wrapped it around your shoulders, the worn fabric heavy and faintly warm from his body heat.

“How’s that?” he asked, though the edge of impatience in his tone made it clear he wasn’t looking for an argument.

You nodded, pulling the coat tighter around yourself. The scent of leather and something faintly smokey clung to it, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying to control your chattering teeth once more.

He didn’t respond, instead settling beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. The proximity was startling at first, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, you found yourself leaning just slightly toward him, drawn to the faint warmth radiating from his body.

“You don’t have to stay there,” you said tentatively after a long moment, “I mean… we could share the coat. It’d keep us both warm.”

His gaze slid to you, expression unreadable in the flickering light. You thought he might refuse, that he’d scoff and tell you he would deal with the cold on his own. But then he sighed, reaching for the edge of the coat and lifting it up so he could wrap it around himself, your sides now flush together.

“You’re bolder than you look,” he remarked, there was no bite in his words.

“And you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be,” you countered, glancing at him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “don’t mistake pragmatism for compassion.”

You hummed in response, unsure what to say to that. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the storm raging outside and the fire crackling weakly before you. Slowly, your shivering began to subside, replaced by a strange kind of comfort you hadn’t expected to find in such close quarters with someone like Silco.

Your head dipped forward a bit, the exhaustion from the cold and the day’s events catching up to you. Without thinking, you let yourself lean into Silco’s shoulder, the warmth of his body a welcome reprieve from the icy air.

He stiffened at first, muscles tensing beneath you, but he didn’t push you away. After a long pause, you felt him relax— his sharp edges softening just enough to comfort you.

“You’re not really what I expected,” you whispered, half asleep.

Silco didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was not only quieter than you had ever head it, but it was comforting.

“Neither are you.”

Smiling, you let your eyes shut as the weight of the day pulled you under. For the first time since the storm began, the cold didn’t seem quite so unforgiving.

i initially wrote this for a friend with the intent of being a short cute fic, but it accidentally turned into a planned out multi chapter fic. whoops,, anyway i’ll have the next two chapters out soon i hope <3

[street-smarts00]

Overwhelmed

Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader

Summary: Reader gets sensory overload while on a case. Spencer knows how it feels and exactly how to help them.

WC: 1.3k

Based on request

Tags: autistic!reader, gender neutral reader but I only mention pronouns like once. Sensory overload, fluff

A/N: I hope you guys like the fic! I'm familiar with sensory issues cause I have ADHD but I am allistic so I tried my best.

While you were at work it became second nature to mask. Biting back the urge to repeat others when your echolalia was on the tip of your tongue. Bottling up your emotions when they started to feel too strong.

Not stimming at work was found to be the biggest challenge. You tried to find little outlets like tapping your fingertips or playing with your jewelry. But if you didn’t have to mask, you'd probably end up swaying in your seat, clicking pens, or shaking out your hands from nerves or excitement.

Today, you were away on a case with the team. You've been busy since practically the crack of dawn and were both physically and mentally exhausted.

Some of the members of your team were following leads while you and Spencer were going through letters and gifts delivered to the victims before their deaths.

You were reading a letter from the unsub while the loud voices from the precinct seeped into the office your team had settled in. The words on the page in front of you were starting to bleed together. You must have read the same sentence at least 5 times; and yet, you had retained none of the information.

The noise only seemed to get louder and more defined. You could hear at least 4 different voices, the incessant clicking of keyboards, the coffee machine, and a constant buzzing of the electricity from the lights overhead.

And on top of the overwhelming noise, the lights in the room only seemed to get brighter. You kept squinting or rubbing your eyes every minute or so. But nothing could help the words on the page from floating away.

“You okay?”

Your focus was pulled back to reality from the voice across the table. You looked up and met Spencer’s gaze.

“Fine,” you said plainly trying to hide the fact that your head felt like it was going to explode.

“Are you sure? You’ve been staring at that letter for five minutes.”

“I said I’m fine,” you quickly replied a bit harsher than before. You didn’t mean to, you would never snap at him.

You put down the paper and ran your hand over your jeans. Desperate to distract yourself from your other senses.

Your eyes get lost in the pile of paper in front you so you don’t notice Spencer getting up and walking across the room. You don’t notice until the cacophony of the station dulls. It now sounds muffled, almost completely gone.

As you continue tracing your hand against your jeans you hear a soft noise come from behind you. You turn around to see Spencer closing the blinds of the window that leads to the bullpen. He then turns off some of the overhead lights, turning the room dim.

With your mind still fuzzy, you couldn’t comprehend what he was doing but you were grateful for it. The dimmed lights and sound with the added privacy of the blinds helped you start to relax. Yet you still clung to the rough texture of the denim of your jeans.

Spencer then pulled up a chair to sit in front of you and face you.

“Hey,” he held up his hand in front of you. “Put your hand out like this”.

You copied him with the hand that wasn’t running up and down your thigh. Your eyes wouldn’t meet his, you glanced between your lap and his hand.

“Take a deep breath and slowly close your fist while you inhale. Then hold your breath for four seconds while you make a fist. Like this.”

Spencer slowly inhaled as he closed his hand. You copied him with a small shake in your breath. He then quietly counted to four for you to hold your breath.

“Now release your hand as you exhale,” he guided. You copied his actions and watched his hand and you exhaled.

The both of you continued the breathing exercise for a moment. Finally, your head seemed to stop spinning; but there was still a lingering discomfort you couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t seem to notice your hand on your thigh had resumed its search for touch in the denim. Spencer did. He saw you using the sensation of your jeans as a way to self-regulate.

“Y/N, do I have your permission to touch you?” He asked softly.

You nodded your head as no words could escape your throat.

Spencer shuffled his chair closer to you and reached for the hand you still held in the air. He lowered your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He placed his other hand on his knee, open, waiting for you to reach out when you felt comfortable.

Almost immediately, the hand that had previously resided on your jeans now reached for his. He gave both your hands a gentle squeeze before rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. The corners of his lips turned up into a smile as he watched the last bit of overwhelm leave your body. He could practically see the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

You brought your gaze up to meet his. His eyes were so kind but also filled with worry. His pupils dilated from the low light in the room, at least that's what you figured.

“How’d you …”

You knew it was a dumb question. He was a profiler and a damn good one. But your brain still questioned how he knew exactly what you needed.

“Sensory overload occurs when your senses are taking in more information than your brain can process. When your brain becomes overstimulated from the input it translates to feelings of anxiety or extreme discomfort,” he explained. He was a bit worried about continuing as most people would brush off or ignore his long explanations.

Instead, he was met with your attention, waiting for him to continue. He then realized he never exactly answered your question.

“You kept rubbing your eyes, reading the same passage over and over again, zoning out, fidgeting, running your hands down your jeans, and … you kinda snapped at me.” His voice lowered towards the end of his statement.

Your eyes widened and eyebrows raised, “I’m so sorry,” you worriedly apologize.

“It’s okay,” he reassured softly as he gave your hands another gentle squeeze. “I know you were overwhelmed and probably felt out of control.”

A small smile spread on your face. “Thank you.”

He unconsciously matched your smile. “It’s no problem.”

“No really. You have no idea how much this helped,” you confessed.

He looked down and licked his lips while considering his response. “I get overstimulated from time to time. It happens a lot when the lights are too bright. I know it’s a stressful thing to experience, especially here at work.”

His eyes rose to meet yours. Your eyes always shined with kindness and warmth. He hoped he could provide that warmth and comfort for you.

“I want you to know I’ll always be here for you when you need it.”

Your eyes wrinkled from the smile on your face. Spencer couldn’t help but mirror your expression.

After a moment of silence, you realized you still had your hands in his. His eyes followed yours to your hands and his face became flushed. Your cheeks soon turned a shade of red as you both pulled your hands apart from each other.

You cleared your throat before speaking, “Thanks again.”

“You- you’re welcome,” he stuttered as he made his way back to his seat.

It took a moment to return to your work. Not because of the chaos outside the office or the overhead lights. Instead, your mind kept wandering to Spencer’s kind gesture and your hands in his.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, it seemed Spencer’s reading speed was decreasing. His eyes wouldn’t stop from wandering to the person across from him.

[mrsgiovanna]

I know this was a request from my asks at one stage and was so wholesome I kept it in my drafts. Reader-chan helps the jojos relax by making them some cookies 🥺

It's just dumb fluff lol

Johnathan Joestar

You had been tending to your betrothed's wounds dutifully since that fateful night of his father's passing, however, his task wasn't complete and Jonathan had been training with Baron Zeppeli to hone his Hamon technique.

You were so proud of his progress and determination, how he bore his cross and still maintained his kind demeanor, and so you had made up your mind to support him in any way that you could. From your observations you could see how the recent events had been taking their toll on him and as such you decided to bake him his favorite cookies and deliver them to him in person during one of his breaks.

The sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the flour-dusted countertops. You’d spent the afternoon preparing a batch of buttery shortbread cookies, shaping each piece with care. As you pull them from the oven, the inviting scent wafts through the house, mingling with the crispness of the cool air outside.

Just then, Jonathan entered, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes widened at the sight of the cookies.

“Is that…?” he began, a hint of excitement in his voice.

You nodded, holding out the plate.

“I made these for you. I hope you like them!”

He carefully took one, studying its golden edges, and with a soft smile, he bit into it. The buttery flavor melted in his mouth, and he closed his eyes, savoring the taste.

“They’re perfect,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “Just like you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m glad you think so.”

He reached for your hand, gently squeezing it. “You always know how to make my day brighter. Thank you.”

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to munch on the cookies, a sense of peace settling around you both.

Joseph Joestar

The aroma of melting chocolate and caramel filled the air as you pulled a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You’d added a twist this time—chunks of caramel and pecans mixed in, knowing Joseph’s penchant for surprises... and snickerdoodle cookies.

As the sweet scent wafted through the house, you heard the familiar sound of Joseph’s footsteps approaching. He bursts into the kitchen, his face pulled into that usual grin.

“What’s cooking, good looking? Smells delicious!”

You couldn’t help but grin. “I made cookies, but I added a little something special.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Let me see!” He took a cookie from the sheet , still hot from the oven and bit into it, pulling in air through his mouth as he chewed, “Whoa! You really went all out this time!” He chewed enthusiastically, the sweet and salty flavors dancing on his palate. “This is incredible!”

You laugh, pleased with his reaction. “I’m glad you like them!”

He grinned wider, his playful nature more pronounced as he nudged you with his elbow. “I knew you were talented, but this is next level! You should be my partner in crime in the kitchen more often.”

“Maybe I’ll let you help next time,” you teased, playfully bumping his shoulder, "but only if you promise not to eat all the cookie dough before it's baked.

Kujo Jotaro

Late nights and early mornings had painted shadows under Jotaros' eyes. It was difficult juggling the irregular hours of his work and the dangers he was always wary of from dealing with the threats of being part of the Joestar lineage.

It was one of the very rare times that he had been home, and you had wanted to give him the peace and warmth he deserved, the kind that can only be created in moments of calm domesticity. The kitchen was quiet except for the gentle crackle of the oven as you pulled out a tray of sugar cookies, their golden edges perfectly crisped. You arranged them neatly on a plate, admiring the simple, classic shape.

You heard the heavy footsteps of Jotaro approaching, his presence always commanding and stoic yet providing a sense of comfort and safety you didn’t experience with anyone else.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, looking intrigued. “What’s that?”

“Just some sugar cookies,” you replied, holding the plate up with a smile. His expression softens just slightly, curiosity overcoming his usual stoicism. “Did you really make these?”

You nodded, offering him a cookie. He took it, examining it closely before biting in. The sweetness hit his tongue, and you watched for his reaction. He paused, and for a moment, you thought he might not say anything.

But then, he looked at you, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad. You’ve got skill."

“Really?” You beamed, encouraged by his praise.

“Yeah,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. You could see his mind was searching, trying to place the familiarity that induced a sense of nostalgia in him.

“Its a hint of nutmeg... I got the recipe from your mom the other day...” You leaned in, your shoulder brushing against his, a soft smile playing on your face, “I’m glad you like them.”

He looked at you, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “I don’t say it often, but… you do good things. You’re good.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you found comfort in the precious quiet moment shared together.

Higashikata Josuke (4)

The smell of freshly baked biscotti filled your cozy kitchen as you pulled a tray from the oven. Josuke was just finishing up a game he was playing, the quiet of the house being punctuated by stifled groans and a playful jibe thrown in here and there aimed at his teammates online.

It was a long process to make them, but you'd made sure to follow the recipe perfectly, adding nuts and a hint of almond flavor, knowing Josuke’s love for Italian treats. It might have been easier to have gotten them from Tonio, but you wanted a personal touch.

You had set the cookies on the counter, and just as you did, the door swung open, revealing Josuke, his usual lively energy lighting up the entire area. “What’s that smell?” he asked, his eyes wide and his smiled wider.

“I made biscotti!” You replied, unable to hide your smile. “I thought you might enjoy some.”

“Biscotti? For me?” He stepped closer, practically bouncing on his heels as he grabbed one. He took a big bite, and his eyes lit up. “Whoa! These are awesome!”

You watched as he devoured another piece, his joy infectious.

“I’m glad you like them! I tried to get them just right.”

He leaned against the counter, his smile warm and genuine. “You always know how to make me happy. This is my favorite!”

You couldn’t ’t help but blush at his enthusiasm.

“You really mean it?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a side hug. “You’re amazing! I’m lucky to have you.”

He kissed your cheek, his smile softening as he reached for another biscotti, and started to make coffee for the two of you. "You spoil me, know..." he said, hands busy with the Espresso maker.

"Good, you deserve to be spoiled."

Giorno Giovanna

The expansive kitchen of the villa was filled with the rich aroma of dark chocolate as you carefully prepared a batch of cookies, each one a small piece of art, drizzled with even more melted chocolate and sprinkled with chopped pistachios.

You couldn’t wait for Giorno to see them; his gentle appreciation for the things you did for him always made your heart flutter. He was accustomed to the finest things and could have what he wanted at whim, but all of that paled in comparison to what your gestures meant to him.

As you finished arranging the cookies on a plate, Giorno walked in, his elegant demeanor somehow enhancing the everyday scene. It was always like that with him... he had the ability to make the most mundane of things beautiful by his presence alone, although he maintained that that was what you had done every day.

His gaze fell on the cookies, and a soft smile spread across his face. “What’s this?”

“Dark chocolate and pistachio cookies, just for you,” you say, holding out the gold-rimmed plate. His eyes gleamed as he picked one up, the rich chocolate and blushing green pistachios,enticing him.

It was so endearing... the way he lit up at desserts, no one would have guessed the intense appreciation he had for sweets by his stoic demeanor. He took a bite, and his expression melted into delight. “This is exquisite,” he says, genuinely impressed. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

You felt the warmth spread through you at his praise. “I wanted to make something special for you.”

He placed the cookie down and stepped closer, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You always know how to bring sweetness into my life. Thank you.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, and you had felt your heart race with affection. “Let’s enjoy these together, shall we?” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with appreciation and love for you.

Jolyne Cujoh

There was nobody else like Jolyne, at least nobody that you knew. It was so rare to encounter that level of strength and softness in one person, and life with her was better than you could have ever imagined. Your lives were now the picture of domestic bliss, and given the circumstances that had brought you together and all you had fought through, this was the closest to heaven you could come to.

Among her many endearing qualities, Jolyne was fond of citrusy sweets. You’d just finished baking a batch of orange-flavored cookies, their zesty aroma filling the air like a burst of sunshine. The bright color of your confectionery creations seemed to mirror Jolyne’s vibrant personality, and you couldn’t wait for her reaction.

When Jolyne stepped into the kitchen, her expression shifted from curiosity to excitement as she caught the scent. “What’s cooking? It smells incredible!”

You hold up a plate, grinning. “Orange sugar cookies! I thought you might like them.”

She gasps, her eyes lighting up. “You made these for me? Awesome!” She reaches for one, taking a big bite, and her face lights up with delight. “Oh my god, these are amazing!”

“I’m glad you like them!” You laughed, watching her enjoy the cookies. Jolyne leans against the counter, her demeanor playful as she nudges you with her shoulder. “You really get me. It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Just lucky, I guess,” you replied, feeling your heart flutter. She wiped a crumb from her mouth and leaned in closer.

“You’re the best, you know that? Here, try one!” She broke off a piece and playfully fed it to you, kissing you soon after.

Johnny Joestar

The scent of warm apple cinnamon cookies filled the air, wrapping you in a cozy embrace as you took them out of the oven. You’d put so love and care into each one, knowing how much comfort Johnny found in familiar flavors.

When Johnny walked into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind you “What’s that smell?” he asks, his lips close enough to your esr you can feel his breath on your neck.

“Just some apple cinnamon cookies,” you replied, turning around in his arms, holding the plate in front of him. He looked closer, the sweet scent drawing him in. He picked up a cookie and took a bite, closing his eyes as the flavors hit him.

“These are amazing,” he murmurs, his voice filled with nostalgia. “Reminds me of... simple times.” You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest. “I thought they might bring back some good memories.”

He glanced at you, a gentle expression coloring his face. “You always know how to lift my spirits. Thank you.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Let’s enjoy these together,” he says, his tone tender, his touch filled with affection.

Gappy (Josuke 8)

You pulled a tray of soft, chewy mochi cookies from the oven, the aroma wafting through the kitchen, filling it with warmth and comfort. You’ve made them just the way Josuke likes—soft, with a hint of cinnamon.

As you set the cookies on the counter, you heard footsteps approaching. Josuke entered the kitchen, drawn by the inviting scent of freshly baked cookies. His expression shifts from curiosity to joy as he sees the soft, chewy mochi cookies arranged on a plate.

“Did you make these?” he asked, a hint of affection in his voice.

You nodded, smiling. “I know you're rediscovering your palate, so I thought I’d make a batch just for you.”

He picked one up, inspecting it for a moment before taking a bite. His eyes closed in satisfaction as the soft texture melted in his mouth, with hints of cinnamon and chocolate chips blending perfectly.

“These are amazing,” he said, his tone filled with genuine appreciation. “You really know how to spoil me, you know that?”

You laughed, feeling a happy warmth settle in your chest. “Only because you deserve it.”

He looked at you, a soft smile blooming on his handsome face, and reached out to take your hand.

“Thank you. It’s little things like this that make me realize how lucky I am to have you.”

You averted your gaze at the intensity of his, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m just glad you like them.”

Without letting go of your hand, he broke off a piece of cookie and held it up for you. “Here, try it! You’ve got to taste your own masterpiece.”

You smiled and took the bite he offered, kissing his fingertip as you savored the sweetness alongside him. He watched you with a warm gaze, brushing a stray crumb from your lip with his thumb. “You’re the best, you know that?” he said softly as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

You can't deny beauty, so don't do it at all. Some time is spent at the beach with a boy you're trying to quietly reject. Begging, though pitying, looks good on our one-eyed boy.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (ft. grown ass men), swearing, sl?!t shaming, bullying, smoking, angsty-er than normal

Also, another reference, now from the show Normal People and the movie (500) Days of Summer

===

Song: Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

(For some reason, I can't display it. Sorry about the technical difficulties.)

===

Chapter seven: Salvatore

===

I walk the unfamiliar streets of the town, only now headed this way. I was instructed by my mother to pick something up from a lady's house this morning, specifically a box of sweets.

It was delivered to the wrong address, and my mother got in contact with the company, which gave her the contact number of the address they gave it to, and the two women made arrangements.

I look up at the plain white door with embedding, knocking on it gently. I hear footsteps from inside, then the door opens with a creak.

"Good morning, ma'am. I was sent by my mother, Julliete Pardine." The woman smiles down at me, the elevation of her house making her taller.

"You must be Y/N. Come on in." She ushers me inside, opening the door wider. I take careful steps on the stairs, eyeing my feet to not fall and embarrass myself. Looking up was something I regret.

In all his glory, after being completely ignored for two weeks, Joseph Descamps stands in front of a drawer and mirror, eye wide open, mouth parted slightly, and looking as pretty as he always did.

I get snapped out of my trance when the woman, now I know as Mrs. Descamps, hands me the box of cookies.

"Now, Y/N, where do you study? I hope I'm not making you late this morning." I turn my focus to her, ignoring the butterflies wanting to escape my stomach through my throat.

"You're not. I study at Voltaire." Mrs. Descamps' eyes widen like her sons, and she smiles a bright smile.

"Oh, what a coincidence. My son goes there, too. Maybe you could walk each other. It's always good for a girl your age to have some company when walking the streets. Maybe you already know each other?" She glances at her son, nodding her head towards me. I look at Joseph, and something reminds me of a promise I made him before.

We're sitting on my bed, writing some notes for Maths. Joseph's voice comes alive.

"Hey, what do you think will happen to us in college?" I look up from my paper, eyeing Joseph steadily.

"What kind of question is that? You're thinking about college already?" I don't mention the fact that he's thinking about us two when talking about what'll happen.

"Well, you know, since schools are mixing boys and girls now, and it's going pretty well, so in college, it might be continued. I just wanna know if we'll still be... friends." I scoff slightly, letting go of my pencil to reach for his free hand.

"Joseph, let me assure you we'll still be friends. I promise." Joseph looks at me, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips. I tilt my head in worry.

"But... what if we don't end up in the same college? And when you're with your new friends, then you see me, you'll act like you never knew who I was?" I scan his face, his beautiful face, biting gently on my bottom lip. I caress his hand with my thumb.

"I would never act like I don't know you." I say in a whisper. He doesn't say anything after that, collecting my words somehow.

"Can you promise that, too?" I smile gently at him, lifting his hand up to my lips, kissing his rough knuckles.

"I promise."

I would've never thought what might happen in college happens so soon.

So when I look at him, all I can think about is his soul, and that even in a matter of weeks, it's filled me whole.

"Yes. We know each other." I look at Mrs. Descamps again, and her face lights up brighter than before.

Her son looks like her. The way both their eyes wrinkle a bit under when they smile, the way their cheeks shows lines, and the way their eyes light up. I barely see that in him anymore. And the last time I did, it was with me.

"Good. He shall walk you to school this morning." She walks to her son now, grabbing his arm to drag him closer to me. I don't look him in the eye, my heart still aching from the afternoon in the alley.

I can sense him tilting his head, brows etched in worry and body leaning towards me. He feels so warm even from far away. I want him closer.

"Anyways, I made you a sandwich for lunch. I know what food's like at school." Mrs. Descamps tells her son. I look at her now petite image, even more small when standing next to her child. Well, if he even is a child anymore.

"Thanks." He replies simply, head down. I try my best not to hold him like I used to. To ask him what's wrong.

"I saw the ophthalmologist. He thinks it's time." I furrow my eyebrows, not sure what type of doctor that is.

"Oh, yeah?" Fuck. Why'd he have to say it like that? Butterflies fill my stomach again. Not here. Not infront of his mom, for fucks sake.

"They've made great strides." She ruffles his hair. Damn, I used to do that. I miss it. "They can match your eye colour exactly now. You can't tell the difference."

"Have you ever seen someone with a glass eye? One eye moves, the other doesn't." Oh, so that's what this is about.

His mother cups his face. "My son is not a pirate. You'll be handsome again." I speak before I think.

"Your son is handsome." They turn their heads to me, and I flush in embarrassment. I finally look at Joseph, and there's a glimmer of hope in his eyes. His cheeks are flushed like mine, and he searches my face.

"Well, I'm glad you think so. But I think he should get it anyway. The mother knows best, like they say." Joseph doesn't even turn his head to his mother's direction. He doesn't even hear her. All he's looking at is me, and I can't find myself to look away.

"Well," I stutter out, looking to Mrs. Descamps. "It was nice to meet you. See you soon, ma'am." She smiles at me, rubbing my shoulder gently.

"Would you like to come to dinner tonight? I'm making a roast." Before I could answer, Joseph does it for me.

"Mama-" I cut him off. "Yes. Sure, ma'am. I'll come for dinner." I say, placing the box of cookies in my satchel. She laughs in glee.

"Alright! That's settled then. Now get going, or your teachers will have a field day with you two." She ushers us to the front door, closing the it once we're outside. I glance at him for a second, then start walking in a fast pace.

"Y/N!" He calls out.

"Oh, first name basis again? Didn't know we were that close." I say, Joseph catching up to my side.

"Please, I can explain. Let me." I scoff, disbelief in my face.

"No, thanks. Go have some fun with your girlfriend." I try to walk faster, but he catches up anyway.

"She's not my girlfriend, I swear. Y/N, please. You're killing me here." His voice cracks in desperation, and it takes all my strength not to stumble from my suddenly shaky legs.

"Good." He whimpers. Fucking whimpers. Holy shit, please give me strength.

"Y/N. Please. Just, please." I slow down a bit, pitying him.

"You have one minute." I face him, crossing my arms.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Ex then?" He shakes his head profusely.

"No. I don't even know her. She just came up to me and started getting all over me."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Please do. Because I swear on my life, Y/N, I would never do that to you."

"But you did. You did when you were talking shit about me to your friends. You did when you let her get all over you." He doesn't speak, and my throat goes dry.

"Exactly. So don't even fucking talk." I turn around and walk away, tears pooling my eyes. I can't believe him. I can't believe me.

××《☆》××

I stand next to Simone in front of the gate, tapping my foot against the gravel.

"What are we doing here again?" I ask, seeing Simone bite her lip in anxiety.

"We're waiting for-" Simone cuts herself off, shouting for Michèle. I walk towards the both of them.

"Michèle, it's been weeks. How long will you be mad?" I delay behind them, trying to give both girls privacy.

"How long have you been seeing my brother behind my back?" Oh. So they got together. I'm happy for Simone, though I already had an idea, but this was the moment she was dreading to come.

They get through the gate. "I wanted to tell you." Simone explains.

Michèle only glances at her. "You played me for a fool."

It's worrying to see both my closest friends argue because you don't know whether or not they'll recover and stay friends.

"It wasn't like that." Simone breaks my thoughts.

"Does he know about Alain?" Michèle says, seemingly angry if her brother did know.

"Of course not. I never told him anything you shared with me." Simone flushes. "If he knew anything, you'd have known about it." They stop walking. I keep my distance.

"I never said it was Jean Pierre, but the rest was true." Someone calls out for Michèle.

"I miss our talks." That was the last thing Simone said before Michèle got dragged away by some girls.

I walk up to Simone, smiling slightly.

"So..." I pause, looking up at her. "Jean Pierre?"

This gets her so smile a bit, red covering her cheeks.

"Yeah." She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I can't help but giggle at her antic.

"He was Eugène the whole time?" I question. She looks at me with even more red on her cheeks.

"I knew it." We both giggle in our girlish nature as we head inside the school.

××《☆》××

Two beeps are heard outside the gate of Voltaire, and I rush down the ramp. I accidentally bumped into someone, and I say a quick apology. I glance behind me, having to do a double take at the one-eyed boy. I look away quickly, walking to Callum's car.

"Pretty girl." Callum hands me a bouquet of pink tulips, and I smile at the sight of it, forgetting about Joseph for a second. Just a second.

"Where are we headed?" I ask, thanking Callum for opening the passenger's door for me.

"The beach. There's a car meet I was invited to take some photos of. Do you mind?" He opens up the roof, letting the wind outside and the heat hit us.

"No. Don't mind at all. Let's get going." He smiles at me simply, and I fail to notice some things he brought on the back of his car.

The drive to the beach was comfortably quiet, wind messing our hair up, the smell of salt and soil filling our senses.

From up the hill, I see the mounds of cars on the white sand below. I smile at the sight, ready for Callum's lovely rambling of all the different cars.

Callum once again opens my door for me, even rolling on the hood of the car for comedic action. It works, and I laugh at him. All he does is smile, offering his hand out for support.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking photos of the cars, some of which he asked me to model for him again. I did so, adding some fun with the comfortable aura that surrounded both of us.

We moved the car to an area further from the meet, deciding to go out for a swim. I unfortunately wasn't ready for the trip, not bringing any swimwear, so Callum wastes no time to go to the shops behind us, telling me to get a new pair. He even paid for it, then waited for me to come out.

In Callum fashion, we took more pictures. We went for a swim, him wearing no top and just a pair of shorts. It didn't feel awkward around him. It felt so natural, like I'd known him longer than I do.

So when we finished playing in the salty water, and the sun was setting, we settled down on the mat to watch it.

"Y/N?" I turn my head to him, humming in response.

I see him fidget with his fingers. "I've known you for a while now, and in the time I've known you, it's been the best time of my life."

I get a sense of anxiety in him, so I grab his hand, and it feels familiar to a moment I shared with someone else. I push that thought down.

"Callum, talk to me. Is there something wrong?" He looks up at me, adoration in his brown doe eyes. I've seen that look before. Suddenly the smell of the ocean is suffocating me.

"Y/N, I love you. Nothing will ever change that." I breathe in a shaky breath. "I love that you care and that you're just effortlessly an amazing person." Tears pool under his eyes, and I cup his cheeks as they fall, wiping them away. He cups that hand with his.

"You're amazing, and I would never wanna lose you. I don't want to let you go." He pauses, and I await his next words. "But I have to."

I furrow my brows, wondering what he meant. I nod at him to go on.

"You love him. It's so clear that I'm surprised you don't even know it." My mind blanks.

"And it's completely fine. You don't have to worry about me, because if you'll let me, I'll stay, and I'll love you while you love him." He sniffles, and my heart breaks for him.

The sky is orange, with pinks and blues popping out through some clouds. The ocean waves crash against the white sand, foam popping as it loops back. I can hear our hearts beating, our breaths shaking, and our skin grasping at the other.

"Callum, please don't hate me." He chuckles, kissing the inside of my hand.

"I could never hate you, pretty girl." Tears seep out of my eyes as it did his, and he hushes me, pulling me in his bare chest, caressing my back as I sob apologies to him.

It goes on for a while, and we sit there, the sun gone, cars revving in the distance, waves crashing, seagulls squawking, the moon shining on our bodies, and tears as salty as the sea.

When we pull away, he cups my face and stares. He stares at me with a smile, his broken heart still beating. And I look at him like he's a saint. And he is.

We don't talk on the way home, still a comfortable silence between us. As we stop walking infront of my flat, he says something to break the long silence.

"Still up for tomorrow?" I nod. I had told him this morning that I had some errands to run. He agreed to take me around town. I'm glad he still wants to come through.

Before he walks away and disappears around the corner, I call out for him. He turns around, hand in his pockets.

"You know I love you too, right?" He smiles that sweet smile. I can't help but do the same. He walks back to me slowly, cupping my cheek like he did in the beach.

"I know." He whispers, leaning in to kiss my forehead, lingering. He pulls away, still smiling, and walks away for good.

I get in my flat, closing the door and looking at George.

"I don't wanna talk about it." He meows. I lift him up to go cuddle in my room.

××《☆》××

The next day goes through smoothly. Callum picks me up at the end of the day. We stopped by my flat first, and I picked George up, deciding to finally take him out of the house.

The first stop was the pharmacy, and the person I've been dreading to see was there. I asked Callum if he needed anything, and all he does is shake his head. I open the door with George in hand, standing eye to eye with the taller boy.

"Descamps." I say in greeting. He's heaving, eye scanning my frame like he always does. I purse my lips, greeting the pharmacist. The pharmacist greets George, seeing I've brought him around from time to time. George was basically a regular here.

"Pardine." He greets, but his voice shivers. I almost ask him what's wrong, 'till I remember.

George wriggles out of my arms and into his. He loses his balance a bit, regaining it as he holds George like a baby, like he did before. Fuck, I miss him.

"Hello, George." He smiles softly at the cat, and I can't help but melt internally. I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. He's holding him so gently, and my heart pound in my chest. Hard.

I grab my things from the pharmacist, thanking them quietly before trying to get George. He growls at me, and I stare at him in shock. Joseph looks up at me. When I look at him, I don't look away immediately.

"I can take him to your car." He says in an almost whisper, turning his head down. He's so shy, and I just want to hold him.

Before we could get out, Michèle goes through the door of the pharmacy. I smile at her gently, greeting her a hi. She greets me back. I wait for her, wlaking with her outside.

"Laubrac, what a surprise." She says, and I roll my eyes at her. She looks at me sheepishly, making a pointed look at Joseph. I understand the sign.

"Did you plan to meet here?" I wave at Laubrac, and he smiles, cigarette in between his fingers.

"What are you doing here?" Joseph asks Laubrac as he eyes the boy up and down, the shy demeanourhe had with me long gone. George is still in hand, but now he carries him with one arm.

"My parents' butcher shop isn't far." Michèle cuts in. "I have to go, or my mom will kill me. See you at school." She bids off to the three of us.

"Aren't you working with your chickens today?" Joseph asks Laubrac, and I glare at his rudeness. He doesn't notice.

"Even farmhands get time off." Laubrac answers simply. There's a pause.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Laubrac walks off now, leaving me and Joseph infront of the alley.

"Let's just go." I walk to Callum, seeing him smoking a cigarette in the car, window opened slightly. He spots the two of us and unlocks the door. Joseph's quick to open it for me, and I just look at him, flushing at the gesture.

"Thanks." I whisper, ducking my head to get seated. Joseph crouches down, kissing George's head, and placing him on my lap.

"Joseph. Long time no see." Callum raises a hand in greeting, throwing the dead cigarette out his open window.

"Callum. Saw you pick her up yesterday. Where were you guys headed?" Joseph raises a brow, some sort of annoyance in his voice.

"Took her to the beach to a car meet. Did some swimming, she learnt something about me, and I told her something about herself." Callum puts simply.

Joseph doesn't like his answer. "Told her something about herself, huh?"

Callum notices his tone and chuckles. "Yeah. Something she needed to set straight. You know, something she knows deep down, but she's not doing anything about it." Joseph's gripping hard on the door handle, his knuckles going white.

"And what would that be?" Callum smiles at him.

"Can't tell you. Only she can. Actually, you can probably help her out with it. I'm sure you're feeling the same way she does." That's when I whip my head to face the boy, face as red as a ferrari, heart beating faster than a race car. Sorry, Callum's rambling is affecting me.

"Yeah? What's she feeling? I doubt that it's anything bad, considering that's not how I feel about her." Joseph looks at me, leaning against his now crossed arms in the window shield. With both boys' attention on me, my breathing hollows.

"It's nothing. Bye, Descamps." Callum chuckles, getting the car to start, then beeping it at Joseph as a goodbye. Once we're far away enough, I hit Callum on the shoulder.

"What was that for?" I scream out, embarrassment flooding off of me. Callum won't stop laughing.

"Oh, come on. You two knuckleheads should just get together! You're so obviously in love." I groan, covering my face with my hands. George meows at me.

"I can't believe you, Callum."

"Plus, summer's in a few. You're gonna have to tell him before you leave." Shit. Summer. Paris. I haven't told him yet.

"Fuck. I hate that you're right." I think for a while. "But we're still on bad terms!"

"You just want to be on bad terms because you don't wanna confront him about it. I can see, very clearly, actually, how much you guys want to be together."

His response makes the gears in my head turn. He's right, I admit it. But how do I tell him? When? Where?

Then I remember the girl, and he'll probably forget about me before I even leave. He won't notice that I'm gone.

So, now that I think about it, it won't be so hard. So why can't I bring myself to be relieved? As if I want it to be hard. For him to beg for me not to leave. Not to go. Not to move.

Because if I do, I'll forget about him. But I could never forget him, no matter how hard I try. Because he's Joseph Descamps, the boy who I love too much for my own good. The boy with one eye. The boy I think about when looking at the future. The boy that will always stay in my mind, heart, and soul.

It'll be easy. If not for me, for him. He'll fall in love with some girl, marry her, live with her, have a family with her, grow old with her. Then I'll just be there, thinking about him day and night, counting the endless possibilities and what ifs.

And if I had just realised earlier, told him earlier, loved him earlier, then maybe, just maybe, I'd be happy.

That's not the case. Not now, not ever. And I'll have to live with that 'till the day I die, with him in mind.

××《☆》××

There was a test that morning. Laubrac came in late. We finished the test. The day ends. It was simple. Quiet. But, chaos came in an errand again.

Joseph walks into the butchers, and I internally gape at the sight of him. He's so, so beautiful. I think I might cry. I can't even describe how beautiful he looks right now. I wish I could kiss that patch again. Cup his face with my hands again. Brush his hair, hold his hand, and feel his lips on mine.

The store is quiet, and customers look at the walking image of beauty, including Michèle's mother. She calls out for her husband.

I just stare at Joseph. He doesn't notice I'm there, fully focused on the couple.

"I hear the Magnan's like to sleep with foreigners and thugs." I furrow my eyebrows, frustrated at the juncture.

"You're the only thug here." I keep my eyes on Joseph, trying to figure out his next move.

"The thug is that foster kid sleeping with your fifteen year old daughter." Joseph answers. I purse my lips disappointedly.

"You didn't know?" He says, acting all innocent. "I'm sorry, but it's true. Your son's too busy fooling around with a foreign girl to warn you."

What the actual fuck. What's gotten into him?

"Get out!" Mrs. Magnan says. "It's all lies. Lies!"

He chuckles, and why the fuck is it so attractive?

"Really? If it was, you wouldn't be so upset."

He has a point there, but it's still an asshole thing to do.

"You little shit." Mr. Magnan mumbles.

"Say hi to Jean Pierre for me."

"I'll teach you a lesson!" Mr. Magnan shouts as he walks to the exit, but I beat him to it.

I walk up hurriedly to Joseph, pulling at his shoulder to face me.

"What the fuck was that?" I shout, anger pounding jn my veins.

"It's true, and you know it. Why are you so angry?" He says as if it's simple.

"They're my friends, Joseph! Why the fuck wouldn't i be upset about it?" I push his chest.

"Back to first name basis, Y/N? Go back to your boyfriend and talk about those feelings of yours." This makes my hear shatter against my chest.

"For the last time, he isn't my boyfriend."

"Why does it seem that way, huh? Do you like leading people on? Should've known. Went through it anyway!" He starts to walk away.

"You go back to your girlfriend, asshole!" He turns around and flips me off.

I fight the urge not to just sob in the middle of the street. Unbeknownst to me, he feels the same, too.

××《☆》××

I received a call in the house as soon as I get home. I pick it up, wiping the tears on my cheeks.

"Hello?" I try to hide the shake in my voice.

"Y/N, darling? This is Mrs. Descamps." Shit. Worst timing.

"Oh, good afternoon, ma'am. Is there something wrong?" I ask, worry etching my voice.

"Well, I meant to ask if you were still coming tonight. But there's also something else I wanna talk about." I furrow my brows, sniffling a bit.

"Um, sure, I'll still go." I shut my eyes in regret. I should've said no. "What is it you want to talk about?"

"Well, Joseph came home a bit gloomy. He hasn't come out of his room, and whenever I ask him what's wrong, he just tells me off. I'm worried, you know, as a mother is, and I was wondering if anything happened at school." My heart aches for the woman.

"Well, to be honest, ma'am, I think it's better if you ask him. I don't want to say anything I'm not supposed to."

"Oh, well, that's alright." There's a lace of disappointment in her voice. "Well, I'll see you later, darling. Come by 7 or later." We bid each other goodbye and hang up.

I put my pearl necklace on, the item in contrast with my red dress. It's quite formal, but that's what you wear for dinner, right? There's a semi-big bow on the back, wrapped around my waist like a present.

Time passes as I get ready. The whole time, my heart pounded in my chest. I'd have to see him again. Talk to him. And after that argument.

So when I arrive and knock on the door, and Joseph answers, my heart stops its beating.

Thankfully, Mrs. Descamps ushers me in her home once again, and we're at the dinner table, eating silently. Well, just Mrs. Descamps really. Me and Joseph don't touch our food, keeping our head down.

"Something wrong with the food, children?" Mrs. Descamps says, and I'm quick to dismiss the idea, not wanting her to feel down about it.

"There's nothing wrong with the food, ma'am. I just... I ate a bit before coming here." I take a hold of her hand, reassuring her.

"Oh, that makes sense." She grabs her sons hand. "What about you, my angel? You haven't eaten anything when you got home."

I glance at him in worry, his eye catching me. We put our heads down at the same time.

"Just no appetite, Mama." He purses his lips at her.

"I hope you're not mad about earlier. I won't make you get the glass eye anymore." She looks at me again, a mischievous smile on her face. "At least Y/N here thinks you're beautiful." I flush at the mention of the incident, wanting the ground to swallow me whole.

"Good. That's the only opinion that matters." He whispers to himself, but I heard it clear.

"So," Mrs. Descamps drops both our hands and gets back to eating. I start on my plate, too. "Is there something you two want to tell me?"

I blush profusely. "What do you mean, Mrs. Descamps?"

"Well, there's obviously something between you two." Mrs. Descamps shrugs. Joseph calls his mother out, and I flush even more in my seat.

"Okay, just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't know what love looks like. Me and your father-"

"Mama, please stop." Joseph groans through his hands, Mrs. Descamps laughing at her son.

"Okay, fine. I'll talk to you later." Mrs. Descamps winks at her child, then suddenly, the air isn't so suffocating anymore.

When dinner ends, Mrs. Descamps makes Joseph walk me out. We're outside their house now.

"She doesn't know about your girlfriend?" I put simply, not letting him know my heart is in shambles. He rolls his eye at me, and I have a feeling it'll make his head ache soon.

"She's not my girlfriend." I hear feet pattering against the dark cobble stone street. I turn my head, and there she was. The girl we were just talking about.

"Well, she doesn't think that." I observe her nice puffy dress, jewellery shining from the moonlight, her hair done up. She even has a bit of makeup on. I smile at her, turning back to Joseph, but not looking in his eyes.

"I called her to meet here." Joseph states, and I chuckle. He seems to have gotten what it was I was chuckling about. Tears rim my eyes in frustration.

"It's not what it seems like-" I quickly cut him off, passing by the girl in a hurry.

I hear him call out my name, and I almost trip at the desperation of it. He's always giving off the idea that he wants me, but in the end, I realise I'm in a loophole and I'm finally aware I've been a fool.

I hate Joseph. I hate his toothy smile. I hate his messy ash hair. I hate his towering frame. I hate the dirt colour eyes he has. I hate the way he walks fast with his long legs.

Fuck. Why does it always end like this? I always say I hate him, then I don't, then, like a loop, I do. When will it end? When will I finally decide how I feel?

For now, it's all his fault. It's his fault for making me feel this way. His fault for being so pretty it hurts. His fault for being so... so... Fuck.

Just plain fuck.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter seven: Salvatore

Next- Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

××《☆》××

DONE W THIS CHAPTER AND ONLY 3 MORE CHAPTERS TO GO!!! We've come so far and my heart hurts for the both of them but it's part of the process. To all the Callum haters, I told u guys u would regret hating on him. We love Callum and I don't accept the hate. So guys love him pls he needs it. Anwww happy reading (not so happy this chapter is pure angst)

[scariusaquarius]

superior.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 Day 6: Snowball Fight, Toshiro Hitsugaya

Toshiro Hitsugaya x Subordinate! Reader Summary: Everyone in the Gotei 13 knew that winter was the best season for Squad 10. Toshiro Hitsugaya functioned best, and easily, in the colder months.

-

A/n: Ahh, this was a bit late and I apologize! I could have swore I started working on it last night but apparently not rip. Anyway, here's Toshi <3

-

Genre: Friendship, Humor Rated: Everyone Warning: Humor, Swearing, Fluff

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

The winter months were always the best for Squad 10 of the 13 Court Guard Squads. Since their captain operated the best during the winter, his moods tended to be a lot brighter; becoming a bit slack in his strict ways as the snow and cold air eased his stressed mind.

At least, until his loving subordinate, (Y/n) (L/n), would come around.

Toshiro tapped his fingers against his desk, chin in his palm as he stared down at the reports you had done so far for Rangiku while the Lieutenant went out to do who knows what.

You had joined the squad a few months prior, having been hand-picked out of the few that had been selected, and you had fit right in, according to Rangiku.

Meaning, you tended to enable the Lieutenants unpleasant behavior.

It was very annoying for Toshiro, he had to admit, when he would find you here in the office instead of Rangiku; busy doing her reports while she would be missing; her stash of sake also missing from the various spots she normally hid the bottles.

He had tried everything he could to get you to stop doing her dirty work: scolding, lecturing, gentle words, harsher words, and yet you never budged.

The only response you would ever give him would be a meek 'I'm already here so I might as well, Captain,' and he would have no heart to scold you harder. Instead, the poor captain would relent, and the office would be filled with the sounds of writing, stretching every once in a while, and the occasional sip of tea.

It wasn't that he hated that you were in his office or that you were working. Toshiro appreciated that you had the drive to want to work hard and to do extra, but he hated that you were doing Rangiku's work for her consistently.

Rangiku didn't do a lot of work as it was, so for her to be slacking off and putting her work on an underling that already had reports to do of their own? It was downright infuriating.

Currently, you were sitting in the office with him again, bent over the table as you concentrated on writing, and Toshiro couldn't seem to keep his gaze off of you. Toshiro almost jolted by the sound of your voice and the way your head lifted slightly to look at him, but rather look away in embarrassment, Toshiro simply hardened his gaze as if it was a challenge.

"Captain Hitsugaya, is something the matter?"

"We have this conversation so often, it drives me insane to try to speak about it again. I hope you understand what I'm annoyed about."

You sighed gently, the exhaustion flashing across your face, and Toshiro's lips pursed; his tone becoming firm but caring.

"You are visibly exhausted, and I don't think I've seen you eat anything as of yet, and you've been here all day. You need to stop doing the reports and go eat."

You sat up straight, bones popping and cracking loudly, and Toshiro couldn't help but to wince slightly from the noise before listening to your excuses carefully.

"Captain, with all due respect, I didn't sleep well last night so that is why I'm exhausted. I ate something while you stepped out to deliver the paperwork to the Head Captain."

Toshiro crossed his arms, raising a white brow at you.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't expect you to do anything, Captain. I'm just trying to do my job for you."

Toshiro shook his head, waving a hand in front of him as he became frustrated, his blue eyes steely.

"I understand that you take this job seriously, and I appreciate that as your captain, but it is not fair for you to be doing Rangiku's work like this all the time. You have your own priorities already. At this rate, you are going to work yourself to death."

You were listening intently, back straightened and hands atop of your lap as if you were a soldier being scolded. In a way, Toshiro guessed that you were, and the man couldn't help but to relent when you asked him.

"Captain, can I be transparent and honest with you?"

Toshiro quirked an eyebrow up, intrigue piquing his mind as he looked at you.

"What is it?"

You seemed uncertain for a moment, your eyes glancing down for a moment before they came right back up, gentle in your reproach.

"I like spending time here...there's no distractions, there's nobody knocking on my door for measly reasons, and I feel...at peace when I am here. I know you don't enjoy it when I do Rangiku's work, but I do it because it means I get to be here with you."

Toshiro's eyes were wide, a blush settling on his cheeks, and he couldn't help but to look away from you, frowning.

"I..I don't know what to say."

Toshiro wasn't exactly known to be a very likeable person. Because of how strict he was when it came to the work that he assigned, Toshiro was every bit of professional when it came to his job; especially when his livelihood depended on his ability to put work first.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I'm aware that I enable Rangiku's behavior, but I do it for a reason that is important to me."

Toshiro almost cursed the way that his voice shook slightly, still unable to look up from your pretty handwriting as he asked you.

"A-And what might that be?"

"I enjoy spending time with you, Captain Hitsugaya."

Toshiro's throat closed up for a moment, the blush hot and coursing along his neck and shoulders, and Toshiro had to force himself to clear his throat and sit up straight. He almost didn't try to look at you, eyes shut tightly before he carefully opened them to see you simply writing again.

It was baffling to him how you could say something so profound and then treat it as if it was normal for you; your eyes concentrating back onto your papers, and Toshiro couldn't help but to lean back in his chair slightly.

Were you aware of the weight of your words? Were you aware of the things you allowed to slip between your pretty lips? Were you aware of how unprofessional it was for you to say something like that and Toshiro not to care?

"I...didn't realize you enjoyed my presence."

It was an awkward statement; stupid, even, in his mind, but you simply chuckled at him, shaking your head.

"You don't see what you don't look for. It's only natural that you're ignorant to what I think and feel when you don't ask."

For some reason, your words made him feel bad, and Toshiro cleared his throat as he understood the meaning behind your words.

"You're right. I apologize for how hard I have been on you about doing Rangiku's dirty work. However, I will still stand by my opinion that you shouldn't be doing her work for her."

He hummed and asked you, tilting his head gently.

"How about you come here with your work instead? I'll make sure to have Rangiku bring in a second desk for you."

You seem surprised, and before you could respond, the door to the office slammed open. Both you and Toshiro jolted when Rangiku stepped in, her whole uniform and her hair wet; bits of unmelted snow falling to the floor as she exclaimed.

"Captain! The whole squad is in a snowball fight with Squad 6! We need backup, immediately!"

A tic mark appeared on his forehead, and Toshiro smacked his hand down onto his desk, his blue eyes stern.

"Well, maybe this wouldn't have happened if you would do your damn work, Rangiku!"

"Aw, come on! Sweet little (Y/n) wanted to do it today!"

Toshiro stood, frowning as he could hear the distant sounds of yells and screams.

"That does not matter. You have been taking advantage of her kindness, and I am not tolerating it anymore, Rangiku."

You had yet to speak, and Rangiku whined again.

"But Captain! Ugh, if I do the work, will you please help provide some backup? We're taking causalities!"

You were tapping your pen excitedly, whispering lowly to Toshiro.

"Captain, if I may add: I do feel Kurosaki's spiritual pressure, and I believe you still have a score to settle with him for last time."

More tic marks appeared, and Toshiro had to admit: you had a pretty persuasive way of speaking. Huffing, Toshiro shook his head.

"Fine, but you better be in here afterwards finishing your work, Rangiku."

Rangiku cheered, and you chuckled before asking as Toshiro pushed his chair back into his desk.

"Captain, would it be alright to spectate?"

"What do you mean? You've been enabling Rangiku's behavior, so you're not getting out of this either."

His eyes were playful; tone teasing, and you couldn't help but to become shy, shrugging.

"Right, my apologies."

Toshiro nodded before gesturing you.

"Come on."

With a chipper spring to your step, you both exited his office; Rangiku's stack of papers falling the second the door closed.

END DAY 6

[izvmimi]

cw: self-indulgent. suggestive. baby/babymaking mention. reader and asta are married. child is named.

You’re not unused to Asta saying something outrageous the moment he walks into the door to your home, but today he’s quieter as he sets down his grimoire, soft and sweet with his hugs and kisses as he greets you, and even more calm during dinner after he’s washed up. Luna sits in his lap as he feeds her mashed potatoes and strained greens, clapping gleefully, and he’s extra tender as he handles her. He doesn’t have much to tell you of note as things are at peace currently, and as vice-captain of the Black Bulls, he would know if things were suspicious at the horizon.

Somehow, you can still tell he’s contemplating a new wrinkle of change in the fabric of your lives together.

You put Luna to sleep together, and the two year old drifts off quickly after the bedtime story the two of you deliver in tandem; Asta closes the door to her bedroom carefully, his gaze lingering on his formerly energetic, now still and pacified 2 year-old girl.

When you are both finally back in the sitting room, you leafing through a book of handy everyday spells while he occupies himself by writing letters to the many friends he’s made on his travels, the proverbial other shoe drops.

“Let’s have a baby.”

You blink, and turn in his direction, and he’s already set his parchment aside, now looking at you with expectant, hopeful eyes.

“A baby?” you repeat.

“Yeah.”

There’s a gentle tilt of his head, and now the green of his eyes seem a little bit brighter, glowing even in the low candlelight, and you can’t help but laugh suddenly, pushing your codex aside.

“Are we planning things now? Are you no longer content to just finish inside me and shrug your shoulders, letting Providence decide?”

Asta pouts but isn’t truly slighted by the implication of carelessness, instead drawing closer to you. There's a moment of pause as he contemplates and you gaze into each other’s eyes once more, then immediately he’s scooped you in his arms and you’re walking in one direction and one direction only.

The bedroom.

You don’t protest - rather, you let your arms wrap around him, as usual enamored by the very honest and direct approach he takes to any one of his actions. He’s thought about it, pored it over through his mind, the mental calculations of how to provide and how to nurture running constantly through his head. 

All he needs is you to be willing.

“I was just thinking about it earlier. I think Luna needs a sibling. She plays alone too much, plus Princess Moonbeam suddenly has three younger siblings that look up to her and follow her every move.”

Your legs wrap around his waist as he lays you down, foreheads just barely touching as you stay in an embrace. 

“Three huh? So are we planning triplets?” Your voice is a breathy rasp that scratches gently at his very soul. 

“If fate says so.”

“I thought you didn’t like whatever fate had to say.” 

Asta grins in response to your sly smile, dipping low to kiss you on the lips before rising and pulling his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ask fate, I’ll tell it at this point.”

As much as you’re still giggling as he descends right back on you, the two of you playful, planting kisses all over each other’s bare skin, you pause to look up at him, breathing gently for a moment. Your husband is sweet but determined-looking, with cheeks gently flushed, and desire practically dripping from his lips but part of you is hesitant. Not because you don’t want him - never that - or want another baby, but because…

“I… I just don’t want us to keep you off track, Asta. You haven’t reached your goal yet, and I know…” you pause, the words slowing in your mouth for a moment. “... I just think we’ve probably distracted you.”

“Not at all! If anything, you spur me on,” he insists. Your heart warms, but still, you think of how hard he works to love and protect you and how much of the country depends on him, and-

“I don’t want you to look away from the kingdom,” you add. Your heart thumps as the words leave you mouth, but he kisses you tenderly, and pulls back, a smile on his lips.

“You are the kingdom to me, okay? You and Luna, both.”

He kisses you again.

“And whoever’s next, okay?"

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes and you nod, proceeding to do whatever you want with him, perhaps your love tonight producing much more.

“Star 1, Star 2 and Star 3, right?”

His eyes twinkle.

“Exactly.”

…

By the time coronation arrives, the bump in your gown is harder to hide, but your best friend and his both know, and it’s a good omen. 

The same day, your pregnancy was confirmed, and you took your time to break the news, he had wonderful news of his own. 

Blessings added to blessings.

Luna was your lovechild, and you know have your planned baby of ascension, but you love both just the same.

[icomeandg0]

"More than one"

Part 4!

Linked Universe x Reader (s)

Warnings: Confusing, swearing

A/n: Slowly but surely getting there!

"Order up!"

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Walking through the bustling city the other group wanders the streets. “Are you sure they are located here?” “No clue” LTTPY/n spoke as she continued to walk in front of them. “So do you know where we are going?” Legend asked with a hint of irritation in his voice, can’t blame him though, the poor guy has been on his feet for a while now. “Not exactly, but there could be a surprise around every corner” Legend rolls his eyes at the monotone voice LTTPY/n delivered, “A good or bad surprise?” “Eh, 50 50 I say” The boys all share a glance between them all before Warriors speak up.

“Maybe we should find clues on where they might be-” “A bar.” LTTPY/n says, Four tilts his head,  “A bar? How do you know?” LTTPY/n shrugs and turns to meet them, “Just a hunch” The ring on her finger shone brighter than usual.

“So which bar should we start at? There's probably a lot in this city ""This one” She stands in front of the bar door. ‘Tipsy Teapot’ was the name of the bar. She didn’t hesitate to go inside, “Of course we got put with the loopy one” Legend grumbled earning a very small chuckle from Hyrule.

Inside was very noisy, gruff men were inside sharing life stories while drowning themselves in alcohol. “So what made you think they were here of all places? I can understand…Eh- Nevermind that but a bar?” Warrior raised one brow as LTTPY/n shrugs, “Like I said, a hunch, I can feel their presence” “Oh great, she’s loopy and delusional” Legend muttered as he groaned. “Look, we only agreed to help because the old man told us too, not because we wanted because if I had a choice I wouldn’t be here helping you find your little girl squad!” Legend points at LTTPY/n who only stared at him blankly.

“Hey, Don’t be like that. We’re heroes and it’s our job to help those in need” Warrior says, pushing Legend back a bit to give him space but someone had bumped into him…

“Ooops! Sorry sir! That was on me for not noticing– free drink on me!” She grins and she looked an awful lot like a–

“LOZY/n! I knew you were here!” All the tension left as LTTPY/n walked towards the other Y/n, “Oh HI! It’s been a bit since I’ve seen you, LTTPY/n! Hanging out with a new crowd hm?” LOZY/n asked in a cheery tone, “Haven’t you found the rest of us yet? Why are you with a bunch of boys? This is all so confusing!” LOZY/n non stop yapping about anything that came to mind but she was snapped out when LTTPY/n puts her hands on LOZY/n’s shoulders.

“I need you to listen for just a bit, I’ve come to get you back with the help of…” She glances back at the boys and then back at LOZY/n “Them. Now was there anyone else with you and if so, where is she now?” LOZY/n blinks before smiling, pointing over her shoulder to a curtain that says ‘Gambling addicts!’ 

“Just over that curtain you’ll find FSY/n! Oh–! I got to get back to the orders! I’ll see you around!” LOZY/n pushes past and accidentally bumped into ANOTHER person, Hyrule.

“Oh sorry about…That” LOZY/n eyes widened when she saw Hyrule, Hyrule had flushed cheeks and looked a bit flustered, “It’s fine, really” Hyrule says quietly. LOZY/n giggles and walks past, sparing one more glance over her shoulder and so does Hyrule. Making eye contact before she left to go to the bar.

Only one to witness that was Legend who was giving Hyrule a smug look, “Oh Stop that” Hyrule huffed, Legend was going to tease him a bit more but LTTPY/n spoke up, “You guys coming?” She was already by the curtain with Warriors and Four. Legend shook his head, deadpanning at her “No, we’ll stay here” LTTPY/n only shrugged and went inside, the other two boys following.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“AURGH!” A big gruff man threw down his cards in frustration, “Hah! That's another win for me, I swear you’re doing this on purpose but since this is your 7th loss…I say you just suck in general” A familiar (H/C) was seen, her back facing them as the big man glared at her. “Awh, Don’t get all pissy over a shitty move you did~ NOW GIVE ME MY MONEY!” She cackled as one of the guys slid down 5 big bags of rupees. She checks every single one until the fifth where it contains rocks.

“HEY! WHAT’S THIS SHIT DOING IN HERE?!” Her mood changes instantly as she rises from her chair and points at the big man, “We had a deal, asshole.” This earned a smirk from the man, “You think I’ll follow your rules, little girl?” He taunts as he snaps his fingers, his guards standing up, they all tower over her.

She growls in frustration knowing that she couldn’t beat them, however her ear flicked when she heard footsteps, she looked back and saw LTTPY/n, Link and someone else equivalent to her Link.

“LTTPY/n? Link? How the hell did you find me?” FSY/n asked, ignoring the other men and focusing solely on the trio behind her.

“Eh, just a h—“ 

“Didn’t expect to see you in this department…imagine what your mami will say about this discovery~” Four grins, he couldn’t help but try to get a rise out of his childhood friend.

FSY/n scoffed.

“Of course, come to pester me, have you? Can’t you see I’m doing adult stuff? Something you aren’t quite experienced in…despite having 4 perspectives” she snapped back at him earning a startled expression and he immediately let out a small strained noise.

Warriors somewhat didn’t pay much attention to it and nor did LTTPY/n, Four gave her a look of ‘don’t say anything and I won’t tell your mother’ FSY/n looks at Warriors before looking back, ‘I want an explanation after, deal.’ She gave him a look and soon Warriors spoke.

“Reunions can come later, we need you to come back with us, we’ll regroup you back to your group and—“ “I don’t give two shits about regrouping, not until I get my money!” She points at the man while a scowl.

“Gosh, are all Y/n’s difficult?” Warriors muttered, “she’s just overly difficult” Four muttered back to him earning a slight noise that could be equivalent to a chuckle from LTTPY/n.

“I don’t have to owe you anything, you’re still a baby, how old are you? 14?” The man laughed gruffly, earning FSY/ns eye twitch in annoyance.

“14–14?! I look 14 to you?! I’ll show you!” FSY/n begins to climb onto the table but Four was quick to his feet and tried to gently pull her down.

“Let go of me, Link” she growled, “Is it really worth it? You already have…4 bags of rupees!” “I need the fifth!” FSY/n says, her hands stretching out and clenching as if she’s trying to choke the man from where she is.

“Lemme at him—Lemme at him!”

Four sighed as he settled her back down and she frowned at Four, “I had it under control, idiot.” She grumbled as Four stood behind her so she wouldn’t do anything rational.

“Link do your job and fight for me” FSY/n demands and Four scoffed.

“Are you done your little squabble? I have real work to attend to” The man says, he claps his hands and his guards collect the bags of rupees, “Whoa—Hey! Those are mine!” FSY/n reaches over and grabs one of the bags.

“Oh let the rupees go, Y/n!” Four says, “over my dead body!” 

The guard however didn’t let his guard down and managed to shove her off, she stumbled back and grumbled, “you selfish bastard!” 

“Once you’re old enough, maybe you’ll understand what real adult stuff is” the man grins, his guards put the bags of rupees in front of him, he nods in approval before looking back up at FSY/n.

FSY/n has a crazed smirk of her own, a vein popping on her forehead, she soon whistled and ducked…a flying tray hits the man square in the face

The curtain flew open for a split second to reveal LOZY/n who grinned and was it the stance of throwing, once the curtain fell down, FSY/n rushed to grab the 4 bags and they all ran off.

“GET THEM!” 

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The small group of 6 were hiding in the alleyway, FSY/n was sitting on the dumpster counting her rupees “6000 rupees? It’ll do” she grumbled, “I’ll take em if you don’t want them” Legend speaks up, FSY/n snarls “Go make your own money, broke ass!” She snaps.

Between the two they banter more, Four watches over them because Fire and Fire don’t mix well—LTTPY/n and Warriors don’t wanna be here…

LOZY/n hummed a tune as she put her hair up in a tidy ponytail, making sure her bangs cover up her eye…

“Ahem” she turns to meet Hyrule again.

“Oh! It’s you!” She smiles, “Yeah, it’s me…” he says sheepishly, 

“Sorry for bumping into you earlier—“

“I didn’t mean to get in your way before—“ 

The two pause and soon burst into a little giggle fit, “Hehe, I’m Y/n…Like the rest of the other Y/n’s…Just call me LOZY/n” she says softly, “My real name is Link…like the others but just call me Hyrule..” he says, glancing away a bit before looking back at her…

“Augh, love makes me sick.” FSY/n grimaced at the sight of them, “Yeah, I bet you haven’t experienced love before because ain’t no way anyone is loving that attitude” Legend retorts.

“Shut it, asshole.” 

“I mean…there’s nothing wrong with changing up the attitude—“

“You shut up as well.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

A/N: Oh gosh I finally finished this chapter in one day, I'm slowly coming back, I just came back from my trip and I still feel as if I'm on a holiday. I had the urge to write this whole time, Honestly I'm thinking about re-write the last one because it was rushed but It will stay similar just hopefully better lol.

Series are nearly done, 2-3 more then we can finally put up a damn ask box!

[lululandd]

but not for me;

pairing: könig x gn!reader

word count: 602

warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, insecurity, angst(?)

notes: gremlin man’s stupid anxiety wont shut the fuck up (the notes and summary can be switched) (ao3)

summary: könig believes he’s hard to love.

He dreads going home. He is afraid to see your face when he opens the front door. It burns him so to feel such a negative emotion towards you; to even have such adverse reactions.

Sometimes he believes you to be superhuman, being able to hear his military boots crunching on the gravel by the front gate from wherever you are in the house; and run to him with arms wide open and smile brighter than the flashbangs they throw at him.

That’s why he never looks at it directly. 

And why he notices everything else.

How you look like you’ve lost weight when he returns, the dark circles under your eyes that disappear when he’s home, the stories his grandmother told him about your puffy, swollen red eyes and your hoarse voice when you come visit her.

He sees you hurting, no, he feels you hurting. From the way you look up at him every time his phone buzzed, to the way you flinch whenever there’s a truck passing by. It agonises him, every little pain of yours magnified in his mind.

He does not deserve such a person like you. Who wakes him up so sweetly with kisses, who soothes his joint pains with balms everytime the weather turns sour, who walks his grandmother to wherever her old heart desires before the crack of dawn.

You deserve a relationship that enables you to sleep peacefully at night.

A delicate kiss to his temple startled him from his thoughts.

“You were somewhere else.”

He apologised by pulling you into his lap. “I am here now.” His attention turns to you, smiling faintly as he kisses your hand–hands that have never known violence, hands that have never taken a life–and closed his eyes for a moment.

Not two days later he would tell you. To leave him, to find someone better that would not make you lose sleep and weight and happiness. Someone who can provide and care every time you need it.

You stared at him for the longest time, gaze empty and distant. He had accounted for tears, he expected yelling, he knows there will be lots of arguing. But grabbing a chair to stand on only to slap him properly and squarely on the cheek until his ears rang? He could not have seen it coming.

You wobbled a bit; he had to steady you by your upper arms so you don’t fall out of the chair.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you were the one that got slapped so hard that it triggered a tinnitus.

Your smile was fragile, in contrast to the anger he sees in your eyes, “Tell me, König. Have you fallen out of love? Are you in love with someone else?”

He shook his head before he could comprehend your question. Your words have struck him, harder than the slap you just delivered. How could there be anyone else but you? It’s always you. It will always be you. To him you are a necessity, a need. The thought of him with someone else brought a wave of uncomfortable pressure that he hasn’t done enough.

You cupped his jaw and tears rolled heavily down his face in torrents as you placed his head delicately on your chest. Such tenderness for someone whose filthy, brutish hands has known nothing but carnage and death since the tender age of seventeen. 

As if you can hear what he is thinking, “Do I need to slap you harder to get those thoughts out of your head?”

He giggled despite the sniffles and hiccups.

[bradleysass]

Mystery - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 473 - Starchaser

James Potter was no idiot. Some might argue that point, but when it came to the matter of the mystery love notes appearing in his notebook, he had solved the case almost immediately.

It wasn’t exactly the hardest puzzle in the world. The handwriting alone was a dead giveaway—elegant script, meticulously neat, with the kind of flourish that only a certain brooding Slytherin could manage. But even if he had somehow ignored the handwriting, the contents of the notes were equally telling.

They were cryptic, sure, but only in a way that suggested Regulus Black believed himself to be far more subtle than he actually was.

James had found the first note tucked between the pages of his Transfiguration notes:

“The stars shine brighter when you’re around. I would find my way through any constellation to stand by your side.”

He had grinned like an idiot for the rest of the day.

The second note, left neatly on his desk after Potions:

“If gravity is constant, explain why I feel weightless around you.”

That one had nearly made him laugh out loud. Regulus was leaning into the dramatics, clearly, and James loved every bit of it.

Then there was the third note, which had been slipped into his Quidditch gloves:

“You’re an absolute menace, and yet, here I am—doomed, enchanted, utterly yours.”

At this point, James had started leaving notes in response, just to see what Regulus would do.

He had scribbled on the back of the next note he received:

“Merlin, you’re bad at being mysterious. Try harder, love.”

Regulus, predictably, had doubled down.

The next message was longer, written with the kind of care that suggested Regulus had sat and rewritten it a few times before deciding it was worthy of being delivered:

“If love is a riddle, then you are the answer I keep coming back to, no matter how many times I try to solve it.”

James had melted. Completely. Utterly. He had folded the note neatly and placed it in the pocket of his robes, knowing he would keep it forever.

When he finally cornered Regulus in the library, James didn’t say anything at first—just leaned down to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Regulus blinked, startled, but didn’t pull away. Instead, his lips twitched into the tiniest smirk.

“I take it you got my notes,” Regulus murmured, voice calm but eyes bright.

James grinned. “Hard not to when they’re practically screaming ‘Regulus Black is in love with me.’”

Regulus huffed. “That’s not what they said.”

“Mm. That’s what they meant.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so James took that as a win.

“Fine,” Regulus said, feigning exasperation. “Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?”

James didn’t answer. He just kissed him again.

[jerzwriter]

Thank you @liaromancewriter for this ask. Ethan x Kaycee, a kiss based on a place of insecurity. I know it was supposed to be under 1,000 words but, yeah... me. lol I hope you enjoy this

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan) Rating: Teen Words: 2,300 Summary: A bright day turns stormy when Kaycee overhears an conversation that leaves her doubting herself. Can Ethan help her see the light? Or will the lights flicker out?

A/N: Participating in @choicesjunechallenge2024 - Didn't use one of the prompts, but this fic shows Kaycee bridging her understanding of their relationship, and a new place for the two of them. (It kind of fits lol)

Kaycee clutched a brown paper bag in her hand as she navigated Edenbrook’s packed halls. Normally, shift changes were her least favorite time of day. She may be a city-dweller at heart, but she was a firm believer that crowds belonged outdoors, far away from confined spaces. But today, the beguiling smile on the resident's face as she pushed her way through the throngs of visitors and staff alike told another story. Today, the crowd was providing her with a perfect cover. Today, it was her friend.

She and Ethan were official for three months, and both of them were exuding that energy and glow that only new love delivered. For Kaycee, the difference wasn’t very noticeable; typically jovial and full-of-life, only those closest to her noticed her extra rosy glow or the way her smile shined just a bit brighter.

The same couldn’t be said for Ethan, and the changes in him had the hospital rivited. Recently, there were reports of him greeting passers-by with a nod and a smile. As far as anyone could tell, he hadn’t made an intern cry in weeks. There was even a vicious rumor that he was spotted whistling down the hall after the end of a double shift. The man appeared to be... happy, and everyone clamored to understand why.

He hadn’t suffered a head injury, and if the staff’s favorite gossip, Naveen, was privy to the reason, he was keeping it to himself. The rumor mill, desperate to uncover the cause of the transformation, watched Ethan closer than TMZ tracked Taylor Swift. Ethan and Kaycee found it amusing, laughing about it when they were safely absconded in his condo, or nuzzled together under the sheets of Kaycee's bed. But amusement aside, it presented a challenge for the couple who hoped to keep the nature of their relationship under wraps at Edenbrook... at least for now.

But Kaycee hadn’t seen him for two days, the longest amount of time they’d spent apart since professing their love for each other. The texts and calls they shared over the 48-hour period were nice but not nearly enough. She was desperate to see him before he left work for the day, and the chaotic halls provided her with the perfect cover.

Most of the staff was too busy to notice her slip into his private office, and if they had, the Derry’s Roasters bag in her hand would be her excuse. After all, a resident picking up Ethan's breakfast order on the way to work wasn't out of the ordinary. With a quick scan of the area and a smile on her face, Kaycee opened his office door. Mission accomplished!

Alas, it couldn’t be that smooth. She stood at the entrance of his L-shaped suite, still undetected, when melodic laughter wafted through the air, stopping her in her tracks. What happened next, left her heart racing.

“Oh, Ethan Jonah Ramsey,” a sultry voice belted out. “You have not changed one bit!”

“Really?” he replied, Kaycee couldn't miss the smile in his voice. “Some would see that as a negative. If I am the same as I was a decade ago, that indicates zero growth.”

“Stop,” the silky voice continued. “You’ve grown plenty! It’s an attribute that you’ve managed to keep your sense of humor... and that gorgeous smile. There's no shame in that!"

A brief silence hung in the room then sound of shuffling papers was met with Ethan loudly clearing his throat.

“Well... I appreciate you stopping by today. I’ll look over the proposal in more detail and have my assistant follow up with you, but I’m afraid I do have a meeting in five....”

Chairs sliding over the tiled floor let Kaycee know she had to leave. Rushing out the door in a flash, she took refuge in the nurses’ station just outside Ethan’s office. Tossing her bag under the counter, she buried her face in a file to remain unseen.

Ethan exchanged goodbyes with not one but two women, just yards away, but the loud hum of conversations and announcements over the PA system left his words unintelligible. But one thing was obvious... he sure looked happy.

“Dr. MacClennan,” Nurse Sarah called out, and Kaycee quickly turned her way. “Dr. Tanka was looking for you.”

By the time Sarah finished relaying his message, Ethan was gone, but the two women had set up a temporary spot nearby. Perched over a laptop on the nurses’ station counter, Kaycee had a bird’s eye view to observe.

The younger of the two was around her age. With her curly hair, rounded face, and a flowing floral dress, she looked like a modern-day cherub. Her laugh suited her but also made it plain that she wasn’t the one who had been talking to Ethan.

When the other woman looked up from her laptop, Kaycee let out a gasp. She was exquisite. Thick, shiny, jet-black hair just begging to be touched flowed down to the small of her back, and her crystal blue eyes were dazzling, looking as if they could pierce anything in their path. Kaycee had no idea who the designer of her red power suit was, but the color perfectly matched the soles of her stiletto heels. Yes, Christian Louboutin looked amazing on her, andas Kaycee gazed at her own washed-out scrubs and unconsciously tucked her messy bun back in place, she wondered, had Amal Clooney moved to Boston and become a pharmaceutical exec?

Kaycee felt ashamed. Usually the picture of self-confidence, she felt herself unraveling. Something about this stranger’s beauty, effortless elegance, and charisma tugged at every insecurity she thought she had buried long ago.

“How do you know him?” The younger woman asked.

“Ethan?”

Kaycee seethed at the way his name rolled off her tongue. Ethan. Not Dr. Ramsey; the utter familiarity struck her sharper than a sword.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” she continued.

“So you’ve worked together before?”

The vision tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the counter as she appeared to gauge how much she should divulge. With her lips curling into a smug smile, she turned to her colleague with a bravado Kaycee hoped to one day possess.

“Worked... Yes. We worked together... amongst other things.”

“Ooooh! You and Dr. Ramsey!” The younger woman gasped as Kaycee's stomach churned.

“It was a long time ago,” the woman waved. “We were both relatively new to Boston at the time. But let's say it was memorable.”

“How did you date him and let him go? If I had a chance with a man like that, I would have locked him down!”

“Well,” the raven-haired beauty laughed. “We were quite young back then. I barely wanted a commitment, but Ethan? A prison sentence may have been more appealing. Of course... that was a decade ago, and if magic can strike twice, I promise there will be a different outcome this time."

Kaycee was frozen still, terrified someone might have heard how hard she swallowed or seen the abject fear in her eyes.

“It seemed like he enjoyed seeing you," the young woman smiled. "Maybe you’ll get that second chance after all."

Kaycee welcomed the sounds their high heels walking down the hallway, still, she couldn’t pry her eyes away. She was so engrossed that she hadn’t heard her name being called... several times.

“Dr. MacClennan!” Harper barked. “Is there something important that I’m keeping you from?”

Kaycee swung around in horror. “Oh, no! No, Dr. Emery. I’m so sorry, I was just... uh...I was lost in my thoughts. What can I do for you?”

She liked Harper... admired her... but Harper was the last person she wanted to see right now. Her self-confidence already teetering, here was another reminder of who Ethan had before her. Another brilliant, beautiful and poised woman who had already earned the respect of her peers. She was everything Kaycee hoped to be when she grew up, and as their conversation wrapped up, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this small.

Grabbing the bag from Derry’s from under the counter, Kaycee retreated to the empty diagnostic office. Pulling the muffin out, she began stuffing it into her mouth. Sorry Ethan, she thought, but I need this more than you.

After downing half of the carb-laden treat, she reclined on the sofa and shut her eyes. This mystery woman, Harper... they were both so much more than she was. All Kaycee could hear was the words of an acquaintance from long ago:

“Don’t date out of your league. When you do, you'll just spend your time worrying about how long before you’re replaced.”

The thing was, Kaycee never agreed with that sentiment, and even more, she never believed Ethan was out of her league. He didn’t treat her that way, and whenever they were together, with the aura of the magic they shared surrounding them, the thought never once crossed her mind. So why was she giving a complete stranger so much power?

She sat up in the darkened room and rested her weary head on her hands. Her shift officially started in just over ten minutes, and it was time to get herself together. She let out a groan as she tried to shake off the dark cloud that had enveloped her, just as the light switch flipped on and a worried Ethan looked her way.

“Kaycee? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Escape had been just a moment a way; now, she looked up at her love hoping he didn't notice the embarrassment in her eyes.

“I'm not hurt," she replied. "Not unless you count my ego."

“I’m sorry?"

Thinking of the best way to approach this, she handed him the slobbered-over, half-eaten muffin to stall for time.

“This was for you....” she snickered as Ethan held the object at arms length.

“Uh... thank you?”

“I shouldn’t have eaten it...”

“Kaycee,” he said, placing the offending muffin back on the table where it belonged. “What’s going on. What’s wrong?”

She took Ethan’s hand and leaned back on the sofa with a sigh and instructed her boyfriend to make himself comfortable. She relayed the details of her morning adventures: how she hoped to surprise him and spend a little time together before her shift began, but she stumbled upon him and Amal Clooney.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“The inncredibly hot pharma rep that was in your office,” Kaycee clarified.

“Angelique?”

“Angelique. Great,” Kaycee muttered. “ Sexy name. I feel like I should dislike her even more now.”

She told him the rest of the story and how she was ashamed of herself for becoming so worried, but she felt helpless once it began to consume her. Ethan placed a hand lovingly on her knee.

“Kaycee, if I wanted to be with Angelique, or Harper for that matter, I would be. But I don’t want them. I don’t want anyone except for you.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “And you’ve done nothing to make me think otherwise; but, sometimes, when I’m alone or when I’m confronted with two perfect exes within a ten-minute span, I feel like every insecurity I’ve had in my life awakens, and those voices tell me I’ll never be enough.”

Ethan scooted closer to Kaycee and as he wrapped a loving arm around her shoulder, she felt the tiny bits of self-doubt that were remaining begin to melt away; and when he kissed her forehead, they were tone.

“Kaycee, I wish I could help you with this, but unless I’m doing something to make you feel insecure...”

“You’re not!” She interuppted.

“Well, then, all I can do is reassure you. You’ll have to work on the underlying causes on your own, but I promise you, with all my heart....you have nothing to worry about. In fact, sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for you."

“Seriously?” She asked with a look of disbelief. “You don't think you're good enough for me?”

“Uh, do you see how other people look at you? Do you even realize how much you have to offer? There are many times when I’ve wondered why you wasted so much time waiting on this old man to come to his senses... but in case I haven’t told you lately, I’m so glad that you did.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, running her hand along his cheek. “You are pretty lucky.”

“You better believe I am.”

Ethan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then placed a gentle buss on her lips. Their eyes met with a loving gaze, and he gave her another, then one more as her head tilted to the side and their lips came together so comfortably, there was no doubt they were meant to be.

Kaycee parted her lips and allowed his tongue to intertwine with hers. A rhapsody emotion washing over her as the tenderness grew more passionate, burning with a fire that defined all they had come to mean to each other.

Ethan reluctantly broke away with a smile. "Feeling better?"

“I sure am,” she beamed.

Ethan looked at his watch, then back to Kaycee with a seductive grin. “If I have your schedule down, you have ten minutes before your shift begins.”

“That’s right,” Kaycee smiled. “And how would you like to spend that time?"

"Isn't it obvious? Making out like we're between classes in high school. Are you in?"

"You better belive it," Kaycee laughed, pulling him into to another kiss.

When Kaycee walked out of the team's office ten minutes later, there was a smile on her swollen red lips and she didn't care about her disheveled scrubs. Amal Clooney had nothing on her. After all, she had Ethan Ramsey, and he had her, and they knew that was the only place they wanted to be.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others seperately.

[kusakabesimp]

This is a very special gift to @95lexx <3

The low hum of voices filled the daimyō's hall as Higuruma Hiromi took his place at the center of the room. Kneeling on the tatami, he smoothed his robes before turning to face the Daimyō. As a daigennin, his official duty was to administer justice in Sendai, but his role went much deeper than the law. Through his connection to the Judgment Kami, Higuruma could see the truth in its purest form, without deceit or bias.

Two young men led in Ryomen Sukuna, one of the daimyō's most well-known samurai, and forced him to kneel. He crossed his arms, grinning as he glanced over at Higuruma. There were rumors that Sukuna had attacked civilians in a recent clash with a rival daimyō, resulting in a massacre that prompted this call for formal judgment.

Higuruma closed his eyes and reached out with his spirit, a ritual he'd performed countless times before each Judgment. But today, there was a subtle difference, a sense that the outcome might have effects beyond the Daimyō's hall. In response to his call, he heard the Kami's voice echo in his mind.

"Higuruma Hiromi, what seeks judgment and balance?"

A gentle breeze drifted through the space, and the crowd exchanged glances as a bright blue light settled around Higuruma. The hall fell silent, a few samurai bowing their heads in reverence as they waited for the daigennin to speak. He opened his eyes to deliver Judgment, gathering his thoughts before turning to the man beside him.

"Ryōmen Sukuna," Higuruma began, letting the name hang heavy in the air, "the Judgment Kami has revealed the truth and found that you violated the codes of honorable conduct. Your actions -- the slaughter of civilians and blatant disregard for life -- have tarnished both your honor and that of the Daimyō."

Higuruma paused, the Kami's Light of Judgment casting long shadows over the hall. Sukuna lazily picked at his nails, his gaze wandering around the room as if he were looking for something more interesting to do. The young pink-haired samurai behind him gave him a sharp nudge in the back, pushing him forward and bringing him to attention.

With a cold expression, the daigennin continued. "You are hereby stripped of all lands and titles and condemned to zanshu. Itadori Yūji will carry out your beheading." The Light around Higuruma grew brighter before flickering out, and he bowed to the Daimyō, signaling the end of the proceedings.

The atmosphere in the room changed as whispers replaced the earlier tense silence. Sukuna was escorted out, head held high and a defiant look in his eyes. When the doors finally closed behind them, the daigennin shifted his gaze back to the hall. Daimyō Gojo moved through the crowd with his usual easy stride, but it was the tall samurai with him that caught Higuruma’s eye. He wore the moon and cedar crest of the Kusakabe clan, but the daigennin didn't recognize him.

"Higuruma-sama!" The Daimyō called out, his voice just a bit too loud for the hall. He clapped a hand on the daigennin's back, making him almost stumble forward. "I see your Judgment hasn't lost its edge. The Kami made the right choice when they blessed you with their insight."

Straightening up, Higuruma smoothed out the wrinkles in his kimono. "Gojo-dono," he replied flatly.

Despite their age difference, the Daimyō had always treated him like a younger brother. He'd grown used to it over the years, but it still tested his patience. Unfazed by the reaction, Gojo squeezed his shoulder and pulled him closer, eyes gleaming with a familiar mischief. The daigennin shot him an annoyed side glance, already bracing himself for what was coming next.

"I have a favor to ask," Gojo said, "and before you say anything, yes, I know you hate surprises, but this is important. Daimyō Yaga has asked for you by name, and you know how things get when he's involved." He gestured to the samurai beside him, who had been watching the exchange with amusement. "This is Kusakabe. He's my best samurai, and I'm sending him with you to Edo."

Kusakabe stepped forward and gave a respectful bow, trying his best to disguise his smile. Higuruma responded with a brief, indifferent nod before turning his attention back to the Daimyō.

"I don't believe that will be necessary," Higuruma said, keeping his tone measured.

Gojo waved off the comment, but there was a change in his voice. "I can't just send the oracle of the Judgment Kami out alone."

"Having Kusakabe will make the trip easier, and besides," the Daimyō said, his usual playful grin back on his face, "you need someone to make sure you don't scare everyone away with that serious frown."    

The slight twitch of Higuruma's mouth hinted at the effort it was taking to maintain his composure. But there was no point in arguing with the Daimyō when he was in a mood like this, regardless of how much he wanted to say no. After a brief pause, he bowed his head. "As you wish, Gojo-dono."

"Good! It's settled then," Gojo said, clapping his hands together. "You'll leave first thing in the morning."

--------------------

The mist still hung low as Higuruma made his way down the path from the shrine to the torii arch. He noticed Kusakabe leaning casually against it, one hand tucked into the sleeve of his dark green kimono and a piece of grass dangling at the corner of his mouth. As he drew closer, the samurai turned, giving the stalk a lazy roll to the side before plucking it out.

The samurai greeted him with a respectful bow. "Higuruma-sama."

Higuruma gave him a brief look, irritated by the unwelcome company. He gave a curt nod and moved on, reaching for his fan to cool himself against the rising morning heat.

"You're up early," the other man said with a grin, tucking the grass back into his mouth. "Not that I'm complaining. Just wondering if this is part of your usual routine or if you're making sure the Kami is extra pleased today." He fell into step with the daigennin, casually matching his pace as they walked towards the village. "Kusakabe Atsuya, by the way," he added, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Noted," Higuruma replied, snapping open his fan.

An awkward silence hung between them. Kusakabe stole a quick glance, but Higuruma’s expression was unreadable. The samurai laced his fingers behind his head and chuckled. "Got it, not one for small talk."

As they passed a group of children playing, their ball rolled to a stop at Higuruma's feet. Without breaking his stride, he nudged it with his foot and sent it rolling back. The children immediately rushed over, their laughter filling the air as they crowded around him. As their tiny hands eagerly tugged at his kimono, Higuruma's expression softened, the edges of his mouth curving into the faintest of smiles. He crouched down, speaking gently as he touched each child's head, offering a quiet blessing from the Kami.

As Kusakabe watched this interaction, his initial skepticism gave way to curiosity. He'd met plenty of high-ranking officials, but the way the daigennin's icy exterior melted spoke to a depth of character he hadn't expected.

Falling back into stride with the samurai, Higuruma's face returned to its usual serious expression. The silence between them was more noticeable now, the uneasy quiet of two people learning to navigate each other's company, but neither of them sure what to say.

--------------------------

As the afternoon went on, the landscape changed, taking them from the outskirts of the village to the wilder edges of the forest.

"We've got a few hours' walk to the next town," Kusakabe said, glancing over. "A friend of mine owns a small ryokan there. We can stay the night and grab a few more things."

As the light faded, the samurai slowed his pace, guiding them to a break in the trees. He pulled aside some low-hanging branches, letting the daigennin pass through. "Let's set up camp here," he suggested. "We won't make the ryokan before dark, and traveling at night isn't safe."

As they stepped into the clearing, Higuruma felt uneasy. He wasn't used to being outside Sendai, much less in the middle of the forest. Surrounded by the tall circle of trees, he stood rigid, trying to adjust to the idea of spending the night outdoors.

Noticing the familiar twitch pulling at the corner of the other man's mouth, Kusakabe offered a small, reassuring smile. "We'll be fine," he said, setting down his pack and pulling out a flask. "Water?"

Higuruma hesitated, eyeing it uncertainly as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve.

The samurai raised an eyebrow. "I promise it's not poisoned."

With a small sigh, the daigennin reached for the flask, and his fingers brushed against Kusakabe's, the brief contact easing tension he hadn't realized he was holding. Taking a cautious sip, he relaxed his shoulders and offered a quiet "Thank you."

Kusakabe turned his attention to setting up camp. As the forest around them darkened, Higuruma hovered nearby, unsure of how to help but strangely calmed by the other man's steady movements.

With his back still turned, the samurai continued unpacking. "No fire tonight," he called over his shoulder, answering the unspoken question.

"Why not?" Higuruma asked, furrowing his brow.

"Too risky," Kusakabe explained as he rolled out a sleeping mat. "You won't freeze," he added with a smile. He chose a spot a little distance from the mat to give Higuruma some space. Sitting back against a tree, he tucked his arms into his kimono and closed his eyes.

"You should get some rest," Kusakabe said quietly.

Higuruma looked up at the stars, reflecting on the unexpected comfort he felt in Kusakabe's presence. He quietly slipped away to a secluded spot at the edge of the camp. Kneeling beneath a small cedar tree, he took a deep breath to center himself as he connected with the Judgment Kami.

The Kami's voice flowed gently. "Higuruma Hiromi, what seeks judgment and balance?"

Higuruma hesitated. Was it right to invoke the Kami's power for something personal? And should he question the character of someone who had shown him compassion? "This man, Kusakabe Atsuya, who travels with me as my protector — I wish to understand his true nature."

The presence of the Kami grew stronger, wrapping Higuruma in its energy. "Ask your questions, and I will seek Judgment."

Higuruma carefully considered his words, trying to balance his curiosity with respect for the Kami's insight. "Are there any actions or choices that would reveal a different side to the man I see now?"

For a moment, there was only the soft rustling of the cedar overhead. Then the Kami's voice returned: "No one is without flaws -- all beings possess weaknesses, moments of doubt, and lapses in judgment. Kusakabe is no exception. Yet he holds a profound care and concern for others that extends beyond duty. Care that is freely given, without expectation or condition."

Higuruma reflected on the Judgments he so often delivered to those with more obvious flaws, whose intentions were hard to see beneath the weight of their mistakes. But Kusakabe’s quiet integrity revealed a new distinction: judgment shouldn’t solely condemn mistakes but also seek to understand the humanity within those who faltered.

The faint crunch of leaves was the only warning Kusakabe needed. He instinctively jumped to his feet, positioning himself between Higuruma and the emerging threat. Ryōmen Sukuna emerged from the darkness, his lips curling into the same arrogant smirk he had in the Daimyō's hall.

"Such a warm welcome," Sukuna remarked, strolling into the clearing. "And here I was, trying to be polite." He closed the distance slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he moved in. His gaze flickered briefly to Higuruma before locking back on Kusakabe, his smirk changing into a challenging grin.  

Kusaskabe kept his hands tucked into his kimono, but as the other man edged closer, he eased into a defensive stance.

The grin on Sukuna's face stretched wider, feeding off the growing tension. “You’re wasting your time," he sneered, "This won't change what's coming for him.”

Lowering his hands from the folds of his sleeves, Kusakabe shifted his weight and sank lower. Sukuna's grin wavered, unsettled by the samurai's unshakable calm.

"Fine," Sukuna hissed, his patience wearing thin. “If you're that hell-bent on protecting him, then draw."

Kusakabe tilted his head slightly, letting his hands hang low, and his fingers relax. “Mhm, I’d rather not,” he mused. “It’s not safe to let a kid play with swords. You're more likely to hurt yourself than anyone else.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his amusement giving way to raw anger. His fingers twitched near the hilt of his katana. But Kusakabe remained still, completely unbothered. The tense silence was finally broken by the sound of Sukuna drawing his blade. He swung aggressively, aiming high, but Kusakabe sidestepped, slicing up through Sukuna's torso and grazing his neck.

In a final, desperate move, Sukuna thrust his katana forward as he began to fall. Kusakabe, already in motion, didn't notice how close Higuruma was behind him. The daigennin raised his iron fan, deflecting most of the blow, but the tip of the Sukuna's blade dug into his shoulder.

Sukuna swayed on his feet before dropping his katana and collapsing to the ground. At the same time, Higuruma, overwhelmed by the pain, sank to his knees.

Kusakabe's attention snapped to Higuruma, and for a split second, his calm facade fractured as he moved to the daigennin's side, helping him to his feet. Noticing a slight wince, Kusakabe tightened his grip and lifted the other man into his arms. As Higuruma's head fell against his shoulder, the samurai adjusted his hold, drawing him closer as he began to move.

------------------

It was well past midnight when Kusakabe stumbled up to the ryokan. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced down at the daigennin's pale face and the deep red stain spreading across his kimono. Shifting his weight, he knocked on the door with his heel, cradling Higuruma to his chest.

Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity before heavy footsteps approached.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” came a gruff voice as the door flung open.

"I’m sorry, Nanami." Kusakabe’s voice cracked. "I didn’t have a choice."

"Kusakabe? What the hell?" Nanami blinked, his irritation quickly melting into concern as he saw Higuruma, barely conscious and lying limp in the samurai's arms.

"This is—" Kusakabe began.

"I know who it is," Nanami interrupted sharply, his eyes scanning the dark streets behind them. "Inside. Now." He stepped aside, holding the door open as the samurai hurried past.

Nanami pointed down the hallway, and Kusakabe gave a quick nod of thanks as he made his way to a room. He gently laid Higuruma on a futon and adjusted the daigennin's arm to peel back the blood-soaked kimono. Moments later, Nanami appeared with a tray, setting it down before quietly slipping away.

The samurai worked with intense focus, pouring a small amount of sake over the wound. Higuruma’s pained groan tightened Kusakabe's chest, pushing him to move faster. He ground mugwort leaves between his fingers, the earthy scent cutting through the sharp tang of blood and sweat. With the poultice in place, he tore a strip from the lining of his kimono sleeve and wrapped it snugly around Higuruma’s shoulder. Gradually, the daigennin's breathing slowed, and he drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. Kusakabe lingered by the door, watching him quietly before sliding it shut.

Outside, Nanami was waiting, arms crossed. "Do you mind telling me why you're coming to me in the middle of the night with the oracle of the Judgment Kami?" Nanami fixed the samurai with an unblinking stare.

Kusakabe sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Sukuna."

Disbelief flickered across the other man's face. "Sukuna? I thought he'd already received Judgment," he said with surprise. "Executed, zanshu. That was supposed to be the end of it."

“It should have been,” Kusakabe said grimly. "But tonight, he came after Higuruma."

Nanami's gaze drifted back to the closed door. "Why? What does Sukuna want with him now?"

“I don’t know.” Kusakabe’s hand flexed at his side, frustration seeping through his voice. “Before I killed him, he said something — he said it wouldn't change what's coming for Higuruma."

"Are you saying Sukuna was warning you?"

"Not a warning, a threat," Kusakabe said, voice dropping. "Whatever this is, it’s bigger than the Judgment that Higuruma passed. There’s something else going on that we're not seeing yet."

Nanami stayed silent, his mind running through the possibilities. Then, with a quiet exhale, he straightened up and uncrossed his arms. "This is dangerous business, friend," he said seriously. "For now, keep him safe. I'll dig into this."

---------------------------

Light spilled through the window, wrenching Higuruma from a deep sleep. He winced against the brightness as he struggled to sit up, but the effort left him weak, and he slumped back against the futon. A quiet rustle at the door caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Kusakabe enter the room.

"How are you feeling?" the samurai asked in a low voice.

Higuruma grimaced as he shifted. "I've been better."

"I came to check your bandages," Kusakabe said, kneeling on the tatami. "Make sure everything's holding."

Higuruma hesitated, a faint flush spreading on his cheeks. The idea of letting someone this close felt awkward and overwhelming. “Is that absolutely necessary?” he asked nervously.

“Unless you want to die of infection before we reach Edo, then yes." Kusakabe slowly reached towards the sleeve of Higuruma's kimono, and the daigennin flinched, his body shying away from the contact.  

“I’m here to help you,” the samurai said with a touch of dry humor, "not to rip your clothes off.”

Higuruma’s cheeks burned, and he turned his head away. “Just…make it quick."

The touch was surprisingly gentle as Kusakabe eased the kimono down, his fingers brushing lightly against the other man's skin. It was a practical touch, but it stirred something deep in the pit of Higuruma's stomach. He took a slow breath, trying to focus on the fresh cloth wrapping around his shoulder, as if losing himself in the movements could help him push aside the vulnerability creeping in. Sensing his discomfort, Kusakabe finished quickly, rewrapping it with a new bandage before moving on to clean the kimono lining in fresh water.

The samurai placed a change of clothes next to the futon, and as he left the room, he turned and offered the daigennin a small smile. “I’ll be back soon with some food."

----------------------------------

Higuruma stirred and rubbed his eyes, half-dazed and wondering how long he'd been out. His body felt lighter now, and as he sat up, he noticed a tray neatly arranged with a small meal. But eating didn’t seem pressing right now — he’d get to it later. With a bit of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way downstairs. Voices drifted from the room below, and as he stepped in, he saw Kusakabe and Nanami seated at a low table, deep in conversation.

Kusakabe looked over and raised a brow in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up."

Moving to the counter, Nanami began prepping a bowl of rice. The daigennin looked after him and frowned. “You don’t have to do that,” he called over.

“You need to eat,” Nanami replied calmly.

Before Higuruma could argue, Nanami returned with food, setting it down in front of him along with a small bottle of sake. The daigennin stared at the bowl, debating whether he had the energy to eat. Across the table, Kusakabe watched him quietly, sipping a drink with the calmness of someone who had mastered the art of waiting. With a quiet, resigned sigh, Higuruma finally picked up his chopsticks and started to eat.

A warm smile spread across Kusakabe's face. He carefully pulled back the sleeve of his kimono as he poured some sake and then set it next to Higuruma's bowl. “After you finish, you should have a little," he said softly. "It’ll help you sleep.”

Higuruma glanced up at him, meeting his gaze briefly before nodding in agreement. The samurai offered one last affectionate smile before he rose from his seat and headed towards the counter.

Nanami glanced up as Kusakabe approached, a serious expression etched on his face. "I found out some information you're not going to like,” he said. “Daimyō Gakuganji is planning to overthrow the country.”

Leaning against the counter, Kusakabe lowered his voice. “Gakuganji? The man’s ancient. He doesn’t have the strength for something like that, not after the Shattered Cliffs.”

The other man shook his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "It's not just him. He’s been rallying the smaller Daimyō, getting them to band together. They’re planning to topple everything and consolidate power under Gakuganji’s rule."

“What does any of that have to do with Higuruma?”

“Higuruma’s Judgment is the one thing standing in their way," Nanami replied grimly. "If he makes it to Edo and speaks with Daimyō Yaga, their plan falls apart. They see him as a direct threat."

A tightness clenched Kusakabe's jaw, and he tapped his fingers lightly against the counter. “But how did they even know he's heading to Edo? We’ve been careful.”

"I don't know, " Nanami said, "but they're well-informed, which means they're even more dangerous."

“Then I have to move faster," the samurai said quietly.

The conversation with Nanami lingered in Kusakabe's thoughts as he made his way back to the table. Sitting down across from Higuruma, he noticed the daigennin's blissful smile and the rosy pink flush on his cheeks. He was leaning on the table, swaying slightly as he tried to sit up.

Kusakabe sighed and picked up the sake bottle, shaking his head. "How much did you drink?" he asked with a touch of concern, "I said to have a little, not the whole bottle.”

Higuruma let out a tipsy laugh. “Maybe I misunderstood what you meant by 'a little'...” he slurred, trying to look casual but failing miserably. “In my defense, I'm very distracted.”

The samurai raised an eyebrow. He set the bottle back on the table and extended a hand to help Higuruma to his feet. “That’s the sake talking,” he said teasingly. "And if you’re trying to flirt with me, you need way more practice.”

Higuruma wobbled and started to lean. “I'm not really good with words, am I?" he mumbled. “What I mean to say is, my focus is distracting. No, distracted, I mean, you’re very —"

"OHH-kay, time for bed," the samurai chuckled, wrapping his arm around the other man's waist and guiding him towards the stairs. He felt Higuruma lean closer, his head resting lightly on his shoulder. As they reached the room, Kusakabe carefully led him to the futon, and with a soft groan, Higuruma sank back into the bedding.

"Let's check your bandages," Kusakabe said, slipping the kimono off the daigennin's shoulder, and this time, he was unusually still. Focused on his task, the samurai didn't notice the weight of Higuruma’s gaze. Kusakabe paused as a hand gently touched his arm, and he looked down to see the daigennin holding the torn kimono lining. He accepted the clean fabric with a smile and began to wrap it. Higuruma's gaze followed the motions of Kusakabe's fingers, feeling the knot secure and the warmth of his broad hands lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“Will you stay with me?” Higuruma murmured.

The samurai glanced over, searching the other man's expression, but the daigennin remained quiet, watching him with a steady gaze. Settling down on the tatami, Kusakabe kept a small, respectful distance -- close enough to offer comfort but not too close to intrude. Feeling a soft tap on his shoulder, he turned slightly to see the daigennin's hand reaching out. Kusakabe took it in his own, in a silent reply to the earlier question.

I'm here.

----------------------------

Kusakabe leaned against the wall, one hand tucked into his kimono and the other resting on his katana. "Evening," he said softly as he noticed Higuruma beginning to stir.

Shifting under the blankets, the daigennin groaned as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Is it night again?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Seems like the sake did its job,” Kusakabe replied with a grin, stretching his legs before pushing off the wall.

Higuruma pressed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off his growing headache.

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t drink some water,” the samurai said, stepping over to the low table and pouring a cup.“We'll be back on the road tomorrow, so you need your strength." He turned, offering the cup to Higuruma, who accepted it with a tired nod.

Just as the daigennin raised the drink to his lips, the door slid open with a sharp thud.

Nanami stepped inside, his nata gripped firmly in one hand. His eyes darted around the room before landing on Kusakabe. “We don't have much time," he urged. "You need to go."

The samurai was already at Higuruma’s side. “Can you stand?” he asked, sliding an arm around him to help him up. Still dazed, the daigennin straightened as much as he could, bracing himself on Kusakabe's arm for support.

Positioning himself by the door, Nanami briefly met Kusakabe’s gaze, then motioned toward the other exit. “Go, I'll deal with this," he said firmly. Then, just before turning his attention to the hallway, he added, "He needs you — keep him safe."

Outside, the night was unnervingly still. The only sound was the echo of hurried footsteps closing in behind them. Kusakabe abruptly veered into a narrow alley, tugging the other man behind him. The cold, rough wall met Higuruma's back as the samurai pressed him firmly against it, hands braced on either side of him as they melted into the shadows. The faint glow of a lantern flickered at the alley's entrance, and Kusakabe shifted to block the light, pressing closer as if urging the darkness to stretch further around them. Higuruma felt the thrum of Kusakabe’s heartbeat against him as they stood motionless.

As the footsteps faded, the daigennin let out a slow, shaky breath. He noticed the samurai's expression soften, his sharp protectiveness giving way to something far more tender. Leaning in just a fraction closer, Kusakabe's breath ghosted against Higuruma's cheek as his arm slipped around his waist, drawing him in.  

“We should move,” the samurai whispered.

Gently, Kusakabe released his hold, taking the other man's hand with a soft squeeze before leading him into the night.

---------------------------

As the morning sun peeked over the hills, they found themselves in a bustling market, the sound of chatter and clattering wooden carts a sharp contrast to the silence and shadows of the previous night.

"We've got a problem," the samurai said quietly, looking at the guards posted at the narrow path leading out of town. "We need to find something to disguise you. You're too recognizable."

Higuruma frowned. “What do you mean? I’m not wearing anything that stands out."

"The gold chrysanthemums are an immediate giveaway," the samurai said, motioning to the embroidery on the edges of the daigennin's blue kimono. "We have to find something that helps you blend in."

He led Higuruma to a nearby stall, where a woman was carefully folding vibrant fabrics. Kusakabe spoke to her with a low, charming voice. Higuruma's heart pounded as he suddenly noticed guards weaving through the crowd. Kusakabe touched him gently on the shoulder, bringing him back to the moment, holding out a patterned yukata and a veiled hiyoku hat.

“Absolutely not!” Higuruma shook his head vehemently. “I’d rather take my chances with those guards than wear —”

“I know it's not ideal,” Kusakabe whispered. “But if we don’t do this, we’ll be in a lot more trouble. It’s just for a few hours. And besides," he teased lightly, "You'll be the most beautiful lady in town."

Higuruma frowned, glancing toward the guards again before reluctantly stepping behind the stall to tug the yukata over his clothes. Kusakabe flashed the daigennin a reassuring smile, helping him adjust the layers and tie the obi around his waist.

“Hold still for a second,” the samurai murmured, carefully lowering the semi-sheer fabric of the hiyoku into place. “You look beautiful," he said softly, trying to ease Higuruma's visible anxiety. "Just stay close to me; we'll get through this."

As they made their way down the crowded street, Higuruma lowered his head, the veil giving him a small sense of protection from the curious eyes he felt on them. His body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to turn back. Without thinking, he reached out, tapping Kusakabe's hand, and the samurai took it gently in his.

“Breathe. I’m right here with you.”    

One of the guards raised a hand to stop them. “Excuse me, madam,” he said, moving closer to Higuruma and trying to peer through the veil. “I'm sorry, but I need to see your face.”

“Forgive me, sir,” Kusakabe said politely, dipping into a respectful bow. “My lady is still recovering from a fever. We’re on our way to visit my sister in the next town for some herbs to help her regain her strength, and it’s crucial that she isn’t exposed to the wind until she’s well enough to travel freely.”

A tense silence followed as the guard weighed Kusakabe's words. Higuruma kept his head down, afraid to move an inch. His pulse pounded in his ears as he fought to stay still, fingers trembling within the samurai's steady hold. Finally, the guard grunted and stepped back, waving them through. Once they were out of line of sight, they quickly moved onto the open road leading south.

“I can’t believe that worked,” the daigennin murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

Kusakabe chuckled, gently squeezing Higuruma's hand. “I told you we’d make it, my lady.”

Higuruma shot him a playful glare, unable to hide his smile. “Don’t call me that."

-------------------------

Days drifted by as they traveled off the main roads, Higuruma’s injury making them move at a slower pace. Despite the setback, Kusakabe remained patient, never pushing him to go faster. As the sun started to set one night, they found a secluded spot at the edge of a thicket. Higuruma sat down carefully, and without a word, Kusakabe crouched in front of him, his hands already reaching for the daignennin's shoulder.

“It’s nearly healed,” the samurai said, looking over the wound. He tore another piece of lining from his kimono and began to wrap it carefully.

“Is that an uroko pattern?” Higuruma asked.

“Mhm,” Kusakabe replied, smoothing the cloth before tying a knot. “The fish scales symbolize armor — offering protection and safety.”

“Just like you do," the daignennin said with a quiet intensity.

Kusakabe didn’t look up, but Higuruma noticed his gentle smile. "Speaking of protection,” the samurai said, reaching for his kaku obi and pulling out daigennin's iron fan. “If you’re going to carry this, you need to know how to use it.”

“And what about you?” Higuruma asked, glancing back at the samurai. “Why don’t you have one?”

Kusakabe grinned. “Things are more interesting this way."

Squaring his shoulders, the daigennin tightened the grip on his fan and snapped it open. He closed in, swinging at Kusakabe's arm, but the samurai swatted it away with the back of his hand.

“Not bad. Try to anticipate my reactions,” Kusakabe said calmly.

Frustration flickered across Higuruma's face as he tried again, this time aiming for the samurai's head. But again, the other man blocked him, the fan hitting harmlessly against his forearm.

“You’re too predictable. Change up your strategy,” the samurai suggested, his tone still soft.

The daigennin launched another strike, and then another, each met with a well-timed parry. “You’re not taking me seriously!” he exclaimed.

He rushed forward, but the samurai turned, using the momentum against him and nudging him off balance. Stumbling back, the fan slipped from Higuruma's hand and clattered to the ground.

As the daigennin tried to regain his footing, Kusakabe’s hand wrapped around his waist, steadying him. He leaned in, his voice low and gravelly in Higuruma's ear. “I can assure you, I’m taking you VERY seriously."

Higuruma's breath hitched, heat flushing his cheeks as he forgot the sparring match completely. “You could’ve just let me fall,” he managed.

Kusakabe chuckled softly. “And miss seeing this face? Not a chance.”

A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and Kusakabe glanced up at the swaying trees. “We need to move further in for cover before the storm hits,” he said, noticing a flash of lightning. Higuruma was already headed to the left toward an overgrown path.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kusakabe called after him.

The daigennin motioned toward a moss-covered stone tangled in the roots of a nearby tree. “That’s the flame of the Judgment Kami,” he murmured, a touch of reverence in his voice. "There should be a shrine close by."

A gust of wind blew in, carrying with it the scent of red pine and incense, and the forest shifted along with it, the branches above bending to form a natural arch. As the shrine came into view, the air grew cooler, and a light rain began to fall.

"Looks like the Kami wants us to hurry," the samurai teased, looking over with a grin.

Inside, moonlight filtered through the small cracks in the ceiling, casting soft, silvery lines across the dusty floor. An old irori firepit sat empty near the entrance, with a layer of ash from fires long since burned out.

“It's been a while since someone's been here,” Kusakabe remarked. “Seems strange, given the Kami’s presence in Sendai.”

“There used to be more oracles tending to places like this," Higuruma said softly, "But times have changed -- now I'm the only one left."

"Still, you're here," the samurai smiled. He knelt at the irori, clearing a spot in the ash.

As Kusakabe prepared the pit, Higuruma gathered a few dry offerings and knelt beside him. “Maybe these can bring back a little warmth,” he murmured, placing them on the kindling. Just as he pulled his hands back, the wood ignited with a sudden spark of blue flame, and the fire began to crackle, spreading warmth through the room.

Kusakabe’s gaze drifted toward the flames as he stoked the embers. "Nanami told me about Daimyō Gakuganji's plans, the takeover he's organizing. Once we reach Edo, Daimyō Yaga will call for a formal Judgment. And Gakuganji knows that the Judgment Kami will confirm his guilt."

The daigennin looked up at Kusakabe. “So that’s why you’ve been —”

"Yes," the samurai said, his voice soft and steady. "That's why I've been so protective."

Higuruma realized it was just as the Judgment Kami had said; Kusakabe wasn't acting out of duty or honor. It ran deeper than that. He was doing this for him. “Atsuya," the daigennin whispered, leaning in slightly, “you don't need to put yourself at risk for me."

The samurai offered a warm smile. “I made that choice, Hiromi. Willingly."

Higuruma’s hand hovered beside Kusakabe’s leg, brushing against the fabric of his kimono before lightly tapping on his thigh. The samurai lowered his hand, waiting patiently until the daigennin met his touch, and then he began tracing slow, soothing circles over Hiromi's knuckles.

"When I was younger, in the temple,” Higuruma said softly, “I was only allowed to connect with the Kami. What we have...” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s new to me.”

“I understand why you feel that way,” the samurai whispered. "But it’s okay to let someone close, Hiromi. To let yourself feel safe. Loved."

The words stirred something in Higuruma that he couldn’t fully grasp. Safe. Loved. The concepts felt so distant, like something that would slip through his fingers if he reached too far. But sitting here with Kusakabe, he wondered — what if it was possible? What if he could let himself lean into this, accept that it was okay to want more? And as the thought wrapped around him, he felt a warmth bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with the fire.

-------------------------

Higuruma was pulled from his dreams by the gentle sound of bubbling water. As he blinked awake, he saw Kusakabe looking over, his face lighting up with a warm smile.

“Morning! The Kami left us some breakfast,” he said, scooping rice from the pot over the irori and offering it to him.

“I don’t need all this,” Hiromi protested, staring at the mountain of rice.

But Atsuya just smiled, peeking over his own bowl as he dug back into his breakfast.

After the meal, they stepped outside, greeted by the morning sun bathing the path in a beautiful golden light. Kusakabe paused to stretch, his arms reaching high above his head as he let out a satisfied sigh. Standing at the threshold, Higuruma gave a low bow to the altar, acknowledging the presence that had watched over them. As they turned to go, the branches overhead unfurled as if the Kami was blessing their journey ahead.

Their shoulders lightly brushed together as they walked, and Higuruma playfully nudged the samurai, a faint smile on his lips. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might start to think you’re enjoying my company."

Kusakabe raised an eyebrow. "Your flirting skills are definitely improving," he teased, nudging Hiromi back.

"Is that so?" the daigennin said, finally breaking into a full smile, "I'll keep practicing then."

But as they rounded a bend and saw the imposing gates of Daimyō Yaga's hall, Higuruma's expression turned serious again.

Stopping at the entry, they were met by two guards standing at attention. One of them leaned in towards the other. "Is that the moon samurai from the Battle of the Shattered Cliffs? The one that defeated Gakuganji?"

Kusakabe shrugged off the statement with a casual smile. "It's really not that big of a deal," he said, as if he was discussing the weather and not his reputation. "Anyway, the oracle of the Judgment Kami is who you should be speaking to."

The shift in the guards' demeanor was immediate. They both lowered their gaze and bowed deeply. "Forgive us, Higuruma-sama," one of the guards said respectfully. They quickly stepped aside, opening the gates and ushering them in.

As they passed through and entered the quiet gardens, Higuruma glanced over. “I didn't know you were at the Shattered Cliffs. Why brush off something so important?”

The samurai chuckled. "Because it's not as grand as they make it out to be," he replied. He paused, then offered his arm with a gentle smile. “I care about the things that matter.” Almost instinctively, their steps fell in sync, each stride mirroring the other.

"You know," Kusakabe began quietly, "I thought that was just another fight, just another Daimyō. But looking back, things make more sense. The timing, how Gakuganji's men pulled back so quickly — it wasn't a defeat. It was preparation."

His voice trailed off, brushing his free hand along a cedar branch as they walked past. “A few weeks after that, someone tried to kidnap Daimyō Yaga's son,” he continued. “I managed to stop it, but I think that was the beginning. Gakuganji was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push one Daimyō before making a plan to topple the others."

The sounds of lighthearted laughter floated through the air, catching their attention. A young boy was playing beneath the sakura, chasing after the falling blossoms. As he turned, his eyes lit up. "Kusakabe-san!"

The samurai leaned down and held out his arms, scooping the young boy up and placing him on his hip. "Kuma-kun, you're almost getting too big for me to pick you up," he teased, ruffling the boy’s hair.

"I heard someone special was coming to help Father," Kuma said, his voice full of excitement. He peeked over at Higuruma, then leaned closer to Kusakabe, growing shy. "Who's that?"

"He's that someone special, little bear.” The samurai smiled, turning so the boy could see the daigennin more clearly.

Kuma looked at Higuruma with wide, curious eyes. “Oh! You’re the one with the Judji—the Judji— the Judgeman!”

Bending so that he was at eye level with the boy, the daigennin gave him a smile. “Yes, the Judgment Kami and I are here to help."

The little boy's expression softened into a wide grin. “I knew it!” Kuma paused as if suddenly realizing something. “But... Kusakabe-san can help you too, right? He’s really strong."

Kusakabe chuckled warmly, ruffling the boy’s hair again before setting him back down on the ground. "Don't worry, little bear,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll be there with him.”

A gentle breeze blew in as Kuma ran off, carrying petals on its current. Higuruma reached out, catching one delicately between his fingers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kusakabe said quietly.

The daigennin nodded, eyes lingering on the fragile blossom before releasing it and watching it float away. “This is what we're here for,” he murmured. “To protect this peace.”

Higuruma briefly hesitated before shifting closer, allowing Kusakabe’s arm to slip back through his. Atsuya gave a small, contented smile as he felt the daigennin lean in, and they began to walk towards the hall, the petals dancing in the breeze around them.

-----------------------------

Atsuya and Hiromi sat side by side, gazing up at the hazy moon. They had already spoken with Yaga, going over everything in careful detail, but now, in the quiet of the Daimyōs house, Higuruma felt his nerves start to unravel.

His hands rested in his lap, fingers nervously tracing the gold embroidery on his sleeve. “Do you think the other Daimyō will accept the Judgment?" he asked. "Gakugani is still influential.”

“Yaga called us because he trusts you, Hiromi,” Kusakabe said softly. “We presented what we had, and tomorrow, the Judgment Kami will take care of the rest.

Higuruma reached over, taking the samurai's hand in his own, feeling its broad strength beneath his palm. He gave a familiar gentle tap, seeking reassurance, and in response, Atsuya intertwined their fingers.

Turning slightly, Hiromi knew he didn't need to ask the question out loud. "Will you stay with me?"

Kusakabe leaned in just enough for their shoulders to touch, giving Higuruma's hand a soft squeeze.  "I'm here."

----------------------

The grand hall was still, the air thick with anticipation of the Judgment ahead.

“Daigennin Higuruma Hiromi," Daimyō Yaga’s deep voice echoed through the room, "the council calls on you to deliver Judgment on Gakuganji Yoshinobu. May the Kami speak through you.”

Higuruma gave a solemn nod, casting a quick glance back at Kusakabe, sitting quietly behind him. The daigennin brushed his hand against the iron fan tucked into his obi as he took a deep breath. This Judgment carried greater risk than anything he'd performed before, so every word and thought had to be precise.

Facing Gakuganji, Higuruma noticed the other man’s shadowed, grim expression. “The formal charges against you, Daimyō, are of the highest consequence,” the daigennin began. “You stand accused of plotting to destabilize and overthrow the rule of all Daimyō across the nation.” He closed his eyes, centering himself as he let the sounds of the hall fade away.

"Higuruma Hiromi," the Kami's voice said softly. "What seeks judgment and balance?"

Doubt began to creep in: "What if I fail?" Hiromi tried to push it aside, but it lingered, pulling at his focus.

In turmoil, Higuruma's mind drifted to Kusakabe. He could see those green eyes, warm and full of encouragement, and almost feel the comforting hold of Atsuya's hand as if he were standing beside him like so many times before.

"Breathe, I'm here."

The anxiety threatening to overwhelm him began to melt away, the samurai's voice burning through the last shadows of doubt. The Light of Judgment stirred, its energy flickering at the edges of his awareness. As the energy coursed through him, he felt the strength of his bond with Kusakabe intertwining with the presence of the Kami.

Higuruma opened his eyes slowly, feeling the room come back into focus, the blue flames casting a soft glow over his calm expression. “Gakuganji Yoshinobu," he began, "the Judgment Kami has revealed the truth and found that you conspired to disrupt the harmony that governs our realm." He watched Gakuganji's face shift as the reality of the Judgment set in.

The tension in the room grew thicker, every gaze locked on Higuruma, waiting in silence. "As a consequence of your actions," the daigennin continued, "you and your allies are sentenced to indefinite imprisonment here within this daimyō. You shall remain confined until the council deems it appropriate to revisit your case.”

As Higuruma went to bow to the Daimyō, Gakuganji shot to his feet, his voice trembling with anger. "This is ridiculous! I won't submit to such a baseless Judgment."

The hall grew tense, a nervous energy spreading through the room. Daimyō Yaga raised a hand, instantly silencing the crowd. "Enough," he said, his voice echoing through the hall. "The oracle has spoken, and the Judgment is final."

Before the guards could step in, a sudden blur of movement snapped Higuruma's attention away. A woman darted from the crowd, drawing a kanzashi pin from her white hair and lunging straight for Kusakabe.

Time froze.

Higuruma pushed Kusakabe back with one hand while the other reached for his obi, fingers curling around the iron fan. He snapped it open in a single sharp motion just as the pin came down. The air around them hummed with energy as the Light of Judgment surged to life, wrapping both men under a shimmering blue shield.

The kanzashi struck the barrier with a metallic clang, sparks flying as it ricocheted off before falling to the ground with a soft clink. Momentarily stunned by the impact, the woman staggered back, and before she could recover, the Daimyō’s guards rushed in to surround her. The hall erupted in chaos, but Higuruma barely registered the commotion.

Heart still racing from the near miss, he quickly turned, his eyes frantically searching for Kusakabe's face. When their eyes met, relief washed over him, so intense it nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs.

Atsuya’s lips curved into a soft smile. "I guess that means we're even."

------------------------

The evening air in the room felt cool against Higuruma’s skin as he lowered his kimono sleeve and bared his shoulder. The wound had long since healed, but Kusakabe’s hands still moved with the same steady care, wrapping the makeshift lining bandage in the ritual that had become their way of staying close.

Hiromi's gaze stayed fixed on the samurai's hands, but his thoughts were trapped in the memory of how close everything had come to slipping away. He opened his mouth, and the words broke free, raw and uneven. "I almost lost you today."

Kusakabe paused, tying the strip of cloth in place before answering softly. “I’m still here."

The daigennin looked away, a worried twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth and his fingers anxiously pulling at his sleeves. "You told me once that I was allowed to be close to someone," he murmured, "I couldn't believe it then because I didn't know how." He hesitated, the words hanging between them like a bridge he was afraid to cross.

Kusakabe nodded. "And now?"

Higuruma moved closer, making the small space between them even smaller. He lifted his gaze, and for once, there was no shield, only honesty and vulnerability. “I know what it feels like to be safe. With you. And now I want to know…what it would feel like to be loved.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. A gentle refusal, or maybe seeing his own uncertainty reflected back at him.

But the samurai’s smile softened, a quiet warmth spreading across his face. “Then come here," he whispered.

Slowly, almost cautiously, Hiromi leaned in. Their lips just barely grazed, a tentative brush, testing the waters. Atsuya responded with gentle stillness, allowing Higuruma to meet him at his own pace. There was no urgency, only the soft, unspoken acknowledgment of everything they'd been holding back.

Hiromi's hands moved to the samurai's hair, fingers carding through the strands. A soft tap at the nape of his neck soon followed, a silent signal they both knew so well, reassuring Atsuya that this was something he truly wanted.

The kiss melted along Higuruma's tongue, smooth and sweet. Underneath his palm, he felt the rhythm of Kusakabe's usually calm heartbeat shift and quicken beneath his touch. It pulsed steadily against his fingers, a reminder not of what could have been lost but of everything that was right here, in this moment.

There was a tender intensity behind each press of Kusakabe's lips that would have made the daigennin's knees buckle if he'd still been standing. Every inch of his body trembled as Kusakabe cupped his chin, kissing him breathless. And then slowly, they both drew back, Atsuya's breath still warm against Hiromi’s cheek. They stayed close, their eyes half-lidded and their foreheads gently resting together.

Reaching out, Atsuya brushed his thumb softly along Hiromi’s jaw, a barely-there caress, as if memorizing the quiet warmth beneath his fingertips. He gently tilted Higuruma's chin up and guided him to meet his gaze.

With his usual comforting smile, Kusakabe slid his arm around the daigennin's shoulders, and Hiromi melted into his chest, instinctively curling into the warmth. They lingered in each other's embrace, exchanging soft kisses until Hiromi asked the familiar question.

"Will you stay with me?"

Atsuya placed his hand over Hiromi's heart. "Always."

-----------------------------

The carriage rolled along the path into Sendai, a thoughtful gift from Daimyō Yaga. Higuruma sat close to Kusakabe, watching the world pass by: lively market stalls, sakura trees in full bloom -- each sight sparking memories of their time together. When a young girl with blue hair spotted them, her face lit up, and she waved excitedly at Kusakabe. Everything felt so familiar, like home. Yet, as they neared the Daimyō's residence, Higuruma felt a knot forming in his stomach, tightening with each turn of the wheel.

Outside the door, familiar laughter echoed from a nearby room. The door swung open with enthusiasm, and Gojo's playful grin lit up the space.

"Ah! Look who finally showed up," the Daimyō exclaimed, giving an exaggerated formal bow as he welcomed them in. "I've been hearing some wild stories about you two. Taking down the country's most powerful samurai and passing Judgment for treason?" He reached out, clasping the daigennin by the arms and giving him a playful shake. “You’ve made your little Daimyō so proud,” he beamed.

Kusakabe cleared his throat, trying to stifle a laugh as he glanced at Higuruma, who shot him a "Why is he always like this" look.

"Alright, time for the formal stuff. Higuruma-sama --" Gojo said, drawing out the moment for dramatic effect. "The way you handled Gakuganji? Very impressive. I’d like you to visit a few of the other daimyō and oversee more Judgments."

Leaning in slightly, the sparkle in his blue eyes softened with genuine warmth. "But don't get too comfortable, alright?” he added with a teasing smile. “We need your brilliance in action, not just lost in daydreams about sharing quiet moments with a certain samurai."

---------------------

The moon hung high in the sky, casting the Daimyō’s garden in a wash of silvery light. Beneath the cedar trees, the two lovers sat side by side on a worn stone bench, drawn into the calm quiet of the night. Higuruma’s heart felt heavy. Slowly, his gaze drifted downward, worry clouding his face as he wrestled with the thoughts swirling in his mind.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, barely cutting through the night. "What if...when I leave, I don't come back?" His voice trembled, and the tension he'd held onto all day finally bled into the open air. "I don't want to leave Sendai, leave you, but --"

Kusakabe leaned closer, gently taking Higuruma’s hand in his. "Who said anything about me staying in Sendai?" he asked softly.

“But the Daimyō didn’t say if you could go. You’d risk everything, maybe even your title, if you leave,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Kusakabe squeezed Higuruma’s hand gently. “I spoke with the Daimyō. He actually encouraged me to come along with you. He knows how much this means to us.” He reached over to tuck a stray curl behind Hiromi's ear. “And titles don’t matter when it comes to what we have. I love you, and that won’t ever change.”

The samurai slipped a hand into the folds of his kimono, drawing out the familiar rolled-up strip of lining. He gently tied it around Higuruma's wrist, smoothing it against his skin. "This is my promise," he said, looking deep into Higuruma's eyes, "Wherever you go, I'll always be right beside you."

----------------------------------------------

The legends told in Sendai speak of two bound by light -- a gentle sun, whose soft light reveals the heart, and a devoted moon, ever watchful at his side.

As dawn breaks each day, the sun rises with a warmth that reaches softly into the shadows, illuminating hidden places and offering clarity and compassion to all who seek it. His light is steady, unyielding, not in force, but in the quiet courage of truth.

And as evening falls, the moon follows close, his watchful presence a vow to protect and care for the light he so deeply loves. He carries the sun’s warmth in his heart, amplifying it into a comforting glow across the night sky. In this sacred dance, he whispers words of encouragement, reminding the sun of his worth and purpose, urging him to shine brightly each day.

For as long as the heavens exist, this legendary love endures: two souls, forever bound, finding each other in every dawn, every dusk, and every moment in between.

I DO NOT authorize use of this headcanon for other writing!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi how are you doing I happy you’re open could I request a yandere perfect cell x female android reader, she was created by dr briefs and was base on an butterfly insect humanoid, he made her to bring joy to the world and helps those in need, she is basically his opposite and he begins to feel a huge attraction toward her wanting to make his perfect mate

-He was perfection, he was powerful, he was everything, he was… lonely.

-Cell couldn’t help but scowl softly, annoyed by this nagging feeling inside his body, the desire for companionship, to have someone else to be by his side. He had researched the humans and found that there are things called wives, female partners in a relationship who stand with their husband- mates was a similar way of putting it.

-The thought of being with a human made his skin crawl, as they were beneath him, lowly creatures who should be worshipping the ground he walks on to let them live on his world.

-Perhaps there was someone else that would be worthy of his mate…

-Just as he thought this, you were heading down a nearby road, holding a basket of fruits for delivery, a smile on your face as you couldn’t wait to see the smiling faces of those you were delivering this basket to!

-Your creator, Dr. Briefs, wanted someone who’s sole purpose was to spread joy to the world around them, in a world filled with danger and sadness, someone who could make others happy.

-Sensing the movement, Cell had turned, seeing you first then hearing your beautiful voice as you were singing. His eyes widened, watching you, unsure of if you knew that someone very dangerous was nearby.

-He was quick to realize that you weren’t human, you were an android, much like the androids that gave him the power he needed to become perfect.

-As he listened to and watched you, he realized what an unusual person you were, you were so cheerful, so bright and warm. He didn’t even know he was following you until you stopped at the house you were traveling to, and he ducked behind a corner, peeking out.

-The people in the house were so happy with your gift, thanking you and he saw a child hugging you around your knees as you seemed so happy.

-It was strange, you were so happy doing things for others, gifting them things instead of just taking them, not demanding them of anything in return. Why were you doing this then? Just to be nice??

-When you started back, you passed by Cell, not noticing him at first, as he was researching you, trying to understand you but he couldn’t, and it was frustrating to not be able to understand.

-He stepped out and called out to you, “Hey!” you turned, your hair flowing around you, your eyes wide before they softened as you instantly smiled sweetly, “Hello there new friend!”

-Okay… you were little odder than he originally thought as you came over, smiling up at him, “Are you lost? Do you need help or directions?” you were trying to help him, a total stranger, a dangerous stranger! How could you be so trusting?!

-Cell’s thought process froze when you cupped his cheeks, your eyes sparkling, “You’re so many shades of green- that’s so cool! I’m Y/N, what is your name?”

-Okay it was official; you were definitely weird.

-However, your touch was so gentle, so warm as he felt himself leaning down into you touch a bit, “What a strange little being you are? Why is it that you’re so happy and willing to help others?” you were a bit confused, looking like you had been asked a trick question.

-You bounced back, smiling up at him as his hands lifted to cover yours, “I like making people happy, I’m willing to help anyone however I can so I can make their day just a little bit brighter!”

-Cell was confused, not understanding this and you noticed his confusion before you smiled, “Would you like me to help you? I could teach you how to be happy!”

-He chuckled softly, feeling already happy by just speaking with you and being with you, perhaps he could convince you to stay around, that way he would always be happy. It would be your duty as his wife after all.

[yoificfinder]

Hello! Do you have any short and fluffy victuuri recs? I prefer around the 15k to 20k word mark but I am happy with any! If you have any of these stories please share with me. If not that’s ok! I love all the work you do and I hope you have a wonderful day! Thank you!

I love fluffy fics!! And this fandom has a lot to offer (I limited this rec to one fic per author though).

And I know you asked for 15k-20k words but I included shorter ones too in this rec. It's actually a bit hard to find 20k of pure fluff since some angst or tension seeps in but I hope you'll enjoy these. Thanks for patiently waiting!

Less than 15K words

all the dragons we have slain by brighter [M, 10K]

This is why Yuuri loves gaming—the victory of it, the easy camaraderie amongst his guild, the sense that he’s part of something greater.

Victor tells him, “you were incredible,” and maybe he loves that a little, too.

come get you some of that bounce baby by @crossroadswrite [T, 4K]

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asks, side-eyeing him as he bends his arms behind his back, legs stretched into a perfect split.

“Delivering justice onto this cruel and unusual world.”

“Whoever trashed me on social media is not worth it, Vitya.”

(Or: in which they're happily married, coaching Russia's and Japan's next great skaters, and Victor Nikiforov remains the clingiest, thirstiest man on the face of this planet.)

Heartbeat by (orphan_account) [G, 3K]

Victor starts sleeping in Yuri's bed well before the Cup of China.

just like me they long to be by sparklespiff [T, 4K]

"Haven't you noticed that Yuuri gets everything he wants?"

"Everything that's in somebody else's power to give him," Mari says, before Victor can bring up last year's GPF. "He's not magic, just pretty."

"But it's like magic. My theory is that it's because he's sneaky beautiful, so you're not expecting it, and then, under all that stuff, whoa! Gorgeous. And it's too late to save yourself."

"Stuff?" Victor keeps smiling but makes his voice cold, the way he does when reporters overstep. His Yuuri doesn't have stuff. Everything about him is beautiful.

or:

Yuuri lives in a Beautiful Person Bubble. It's Victor's responsibility to make sure he never finds out.

Viktor Effing Nikiforov by @shysweetthing [E, 13K]

AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.

Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.

15K to 20K words

The Fundamentals of Caring by @braveten [E, 21K]

“Let me guess, you’re going to go take care of Yuuri while he sleeps? Just in case he sneezes or something?” Yurio rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “Viktor, you’re whipped.”

Viktor rubs the back of his neck as he leans against the wall. “What does that mean?”

“It means that if Yuuri asked you to do a little dance for him in nothing but a coconut bra and a hula skirt, you’d do it.”

Viktor pauses, confused. “And that's a bad thing?”

If It's You by Kiranokira [E, 16K]

Viktor very much wants to pose nude with Yuuri for a Japanese magazine. Yuuri is less enthusiastic.

Yuri turns and brandishes a damp sock at them. “Don’t let him sweet talk you into doing porn,” he tells Yuuri. Then he grimaces and mutters to himself in Russian, “I can’t believe my life has reached the point that I have to say things like this.”

never tasted rubies by @ebenroot-daily [T, 27K]

Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’

Seventy-five percent of listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’.

--

in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him

puppy love by minsyah [T, 16K]

Vicchan has a crush on their neighbor across the balcony, and so does his owner.

Yuuri, certified Dog-Dad™, will do anything for his beloved poodle—even if that means constantly embarrassing himself in front of his devastatingly attractive neighbor.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Starlight, Chapter Two:

pairing: fae!ezra prospect x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors dni, some pretty heavy stuff here (at least for me) just as a warning!, talks of violence/allusions to DV, a brief non-consensual but technically consensual (??) sex scene between Kaius and Marigold, general shit storm of angst piled onto our girl (if you can’t tell i’m in actual pain writing her pain so pls be gentle with me), the romance with ezra is coming i promise!!

wc: 6.2k

series masterlist

I awoke to the sound of a few familiar knocks against the main door of my suite, stone rolling against stone as it opened. My eyes batted open as I lay upstairs in bed pulling the blanket up to cover half my face as a set of footsteps ascended the staircase up to the second floor. 

“Princess,” Ezra called, his voice already a strangely soothing balm to my near-constant anxiety. It felt naive and reckless to place this much trust in a man I’d only just met, but I couldn’t find a reason not to. He’d been kind, he’d been helpful, and as far as I could see, he seemed to be the only option for an ally—unless I counted my future husband. And I didn’t. “Miss Drusilla is here to ready you for the ball.”

Wedding, you mean? I murmured to myself. 

I tossed my blanket back and slowly climbed out of bed with a stretch. Whatever magic Ezra had worked on me to get me tired forced me into the deepest and most restful sleep of my life. Another thing to like him for. I yawned as my feet padded over the giant blue rug beneath my bed and then cold stone floor before making it to the dark, wooden double doors separating me from my visitors. 

Opening the door, I let my eyes lock with Ezra’s--just long enough to ignite a frenzy of sickly tender feelings in my chest--before turning to Drusilla. I gave her an instinctive once over, happy with what I saw. Some color had returned to her naturally pale skin, her purple eyes already a little brighter than earlier. She’d obviously had a bath, her waist-length white hair now swept to the side in a clean braid. 

“Hello, Drusilla,” I said, giving her a sincere smile before turning to Ezra. Something more familiar and affectionate warped my smile into a smirk. “Hello, Your Grace.”

“You look well rested,” he said, his eyes subtly combing me over. 

“Thanks to you,” I smiled. Ezra seemed to blush, his eyes falling to the floor for a split second before he was turning to the teenager beside him. 

“I thought I’d come formally introduce the two of you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine only in short glances. “The ceremony is in two hours, followed by a feast, and then, finally, the ball.”

I felt sick. 

“I’ll be returning shortly with the Royal Seamstress to deliver your gown,” he continued, his voice a bit warmer than when he’d started speaking. He must have felt my apprehension. “Until then, I’ll leave the two of you to get acquainted.”

As he turned to leave, I found my lips parting to call for him to stay. 

“Thank you,” I said instead. “For everything.” 

Ezra gave me a tender, if not weary, smile and nod before making his way down the staircase. Left with Drusilla, the two of us fell into an awkward silence for a beat before I willed myself to forget about my impending doom and speak. “It’s lovely to properly meet you.”

She hurried into a bow, her eyes still struggling to meet mine. 

“Please, I don’t have many rules for my handmaids, but I do ask this one thing of you,” I started, my tone gentle as she finally dared to look me in the eye for longer than a second. “Please don’t bow or bother with titles. Back home, our handmaidens were like family, like sisters. We can be like sisters, too, if you’d like.”

“I’ve…always fancied the idea of having a sister,” she said, letting the smallest of smiles grace her face. “But what shall I call you?”

I smiled softly, thinking back to the days spent under the warm sun with my mother and sisters. At the name they gave me. “Call me Mari. It’s what my sisters always called me.”

Mari, it is.“ She smiled, soft and sweet, reminding me of my own girlhood that seemed so far gone and still so near. 

“Tell me everything about yourself,” I demanded as I led her into my dressing room. I took a seat at the vanity, fixing my eyes on her through the mirror as she stood behind me, mindlessly finger-combing my curls. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she admitted. 

“Well…are you an only child?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation away from myself and the festivities she was readying my for. 

“I had a little brother, Ash,” she said, reaching over my shoulder to grab a sack of pins. “He passed from a fever not too long ago.”

I frowned, letting my gaze fall to my lap as I considered the idea of losing any of my sisters—even the ever-challenging Octavia who was likely grinning with glee over my current situation—after having lost my mother. I wasn’t sure I’d ever smile again, which made every single smile Drusilla gave me all the more precious. 

“I’m very sorry,” I managed. “My mother passed earlier this year. I know how hard it is to lose someone.”

“He would have liked it here in the castle,” she mused, her eyes and hands busy pinning my hair up. “He loved everything to do with knights and armor and danger. Too young to know the truth of it all.”

There was a tragic maturity about Drusilla, as if she was forced into adulthood before she was even a teenager. 

“And you? What interests you?” I asked, determined to find a spark of light inside of her so that I could help it turn into a star as bright as the ones in the sky. 

“It will sound odd,” she said, as bashful as a child.

“Go on,” I urged. 

“I like to study the stars--or at least, one day I would like to. For now, I just observe.”

“There are no books--”

“The library in town burned two years ago,” she said, scowling as if she knew the culprit. “Even then, it was difficult to be let in looking…well, looking like trash.”

“How long have you been on your own?” Her eyes lifted to meet mine, a strange sort of pride glowing on her face. 

“Eight years,” she said. “Seven with Ash.”

“That’s a feat I’m not sure most of the guards in the castle could accomplish,” I smiled. “I wish I could have met Ash, given him a home here with you.”

“He would’ve liked that,” she smiled back, her eyes dropping back to focus on her braiding. “I cannot tell you what your kindness means to me. The royals are usually so…cold.” 

“Did you know the last King? Or Queen?”

“Only from afar, though I do remember seeing the Queen once as a little girl,” she said, placing the final pin in my hair. “I can’t remember her face, but I remember sadness in her eyes. I suppose I can’t blame her. To rule here…it’s an awful fate.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the realization that I was to share that exact fate. Drusilla realized, too, and quickly opened her mouth to apologize but was cut off by the sound of a metal hand knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” I called, my voice fragile and on the verge of cracking. Ezra’s eyes were locked on mine even before the door was opened fully. 

“I’ve…” He trailed off, noticing how rigid my posture was, how watery my eyes were. “Is everything--”

“You’ve brought my gown?” I managed, forcing my voice into one of feigned strength and dignity. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to maintain the latter anymore. 

“Yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he turned to the doorway, allowing an old, but regal woman into the room. “Lady Rowena, the Royal Seamstress.”

The Seamstress looked every bit like Kaius, her raven black hair and peircing blue eyes hardly affected by her age. Only her skin gave it away, fine lines and wrinkles all over her face and neck, but she still looked capable of commanding a room. A lifetime ago, she must have been the apple of every evil Lord’s eye.

“Hello,” was all I could manage as her severe eyes studied me. I stood at attention, out of sheer intimidation. 

“You’ve lost weight on the journey,” she commented, handing the garment bag previously draped over her arm to Ezra before she came stalking over, walking circles around me. “Good. Your waist is impossibly small. And those hips…those are child-bearing hips.”

I cringed, fighting hard to keep my face neutral as she faced me head on, scanning every feature from my forehead to my chest. 

“Pity about the small chest,” she sighed. “Apart from that--perfection.”

“The gown,” Ezra reminded, walking the garment bag over to drape across the back of the chaise near the hearth. Though his motives remained a mystery, as well as his mind, she could tell that he was no fonder of the Seamstress than I was. I couldn’t help letting myself fall a little more into my fondness of him.

“Yes, yes,” she grumbled, her heels clicking against stone as she walked over to the garment bag and opened it, unveiling a terribly boring black gown that looked the antithesis of what I imagined my wedding gown would be. “Made from the finest silk and lace, imported directly from Florere.”

I stared at the gown for a moment, my face blank from apathy and shock. This shouldn’t be my gown. This shouldn’t be my wedding. My mother should be here. My sisters should have stopped my father--

“Princess?” Ezra spoke, bringing me back to the present. “What do you think?

Take it easy on her, his voice rang in my head, causing me to gasp. She’s even worse when insulted.

“It…it is lovely—“

“But?” Lady Rowena scowled, her diamond-blue eyes piercing into mine. 

“It’s only—and I don’t mean any offense—“

“On with it, Princess,” the seamstress sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“It looks perfect for a bride of Nox, but I am not a bride of Nox. At least, not fully,” I managed. “I would like for that to be represented by my gown.”

“What changes exactly?” Rowena asked through a tight jaw, her patience clearly growing thin. But I had already ventured this far. No sense in backing down now. 

“I would like a golden gown,” I said, trying to force confidence into my tone. “And for the veil, I’d like there to be an embroidered sun, as well as stars. After all, this is a union between kingdoms, is it not?”

Lady Rowena eyed me for a moment before seemingly deciding that she approved of my request. Or perhaps she just approved of my courage in making a request to begin with. 

“I will see what I can do,” she said, her voice the slightest bit softer than before. 

“Thank you,” I said, wishing I sounded just a bit more like her. More like a grown woman who knew her power and owned it. Instead, I could only hear a little girl, desperate for approval. 

Lady Rowena gathered the plain black gown and matching veil, slinging the silky material over her arm before giving me a bow and making her exit from my chamber. 

Drusilla and I let out a breath of relief at the same time, forcing us to giggle while Ezra lingered by the door.

“She reminds me of the headmistress at the orphanage,” she said, walking with me back to the vanity. I locked eyes with Ezra through the mirror, finding a soft half-smile on his face as he watched us. As if the sight of me laughing--of both of us laughing--brought him peace. I looked away before it got too much to bear. Ezra made his exit a second later.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a laugh, finding it easy to do so in her presence. 

“Not in the slightest,” she smirked. 

We laughed again, the air light with the simple joy of being girls together—one twenty-five and one sixteen, neither quite ready to face the reality of the world we lived in. 

“I am very thankful I met you, Drusilla,” I mused, looking at her through the mirror. 

My entire life I dreamed of what it would be like to have a younger sister, to care for them the way my sisters cared for me. In Drusilla, I saw that dream start to take form. 

“You’re too kind, Mari,” she said, fighting back a toothy smile. “I worry this kingdom will steal that from you.”

I swallowed, my eyes falling to my lap. 

“I worry about that, too.”

I took a moment alone after getting dressed to look at myself in the mirror. Dressed up in black, save the changes I’d requested earlier, I looked like I was in mourning. Though in a way, I was. The life I thought I’d live, the man I hoped to meet, the love my household would share--all of it, dead and gone. 

But I could not grieve, at least not tonight. 

So, I gathered the heft of my skirt and lifted it as I made my way to the hall where Drusilla waited to bid me a goodnight before Ezra led me down to the Main Hall where my husband and our guests awaited my grand entrance. 

“Good luck,” she whispered, reaching to tuck a stray curl around my face back to where it belonged. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I managed, giving her a smile that I hoped would convey my gratitude for her company and kind words. I didn’t linger long out of fear that I’d gather the courage to jump from a window, my heels clicking against the stone floor as I made my way to Ezra who stood with his good arm held out to me. 

“Shall we?” he purred, and everything about that voice hit me in the chest. This. This is what I should feel for my husband, this is what I hoped as a little girl to feel for him. Soft, sweet, safe feelings, not…fear. 

“Off to the gallows I go,” I chided, earning a stern glare as we walked down the hall to the main stairs. “If I can’t joke with you, who can I joke with?”

Ezra warmed at my words. “As long as you learn to whisper. Even if I wasn’t Fae, I could hear you halls away.”

“No one knows who I am,” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, I shouldn’t have to censor myself in my own home.”

“It’ll always be his home,” Ezra warned, his eyes scanning the staircase leading to the Main Hall. 

So many guests. So many eyes fixed on me the moment I took the first step. My grip on Ezra’s arm tightened. 

I can tell that half of the men here feel very…passionate about you, he purred in my mind. And the women want to kill you.

Is that a good thing? I replied.

“It’s a dangerous thing,” he murmured in my ear, his voice sending a jolt of arousal down to the pit of my stomach. “Smile. Your husband’s watching.”

I fixed my eyes upon a handsome man in blue and black, his bright eyes glistening in the candlelight as he stood in front of an Archbishop clad in dreary gray. So handsome, and yet my gut lurched at the sight of him, my skin crawling with the urge to get away. 

“Introducing the new Queen of Nox, Princess Marigold of Solis,” a man bellowed as I made the final step into the room, Ezra’s presence an anchor. 

It’ll be alright, Princess, he whispered in my head. I swear.

I hope you don’t take oaths lightly, I chided, earning a small curl of his lips as he walked me down the aisle, unfamiliar faces gawking at every step I took. Can you do the thing where you save me from throwing up all over the floor now?

He let out a breath of a laugh so soft I could have imagined it and let his eyes glow that beautiful liquid gold, the warmth of it pouring over me like a blanket. I squeezed his arm in thanks and took a deep breath as I arrived at the altar, my King grinning at me like I was a jewel. 

“Thank you, my Hand. I’ll take my wife from you now,” he purred, taking my arm from Ezra’s. I cringed at the coldness of his hand against my bare skin, at the way he gripped my arm hard enough to ache. “You’re a vision in black.”

I loathe black, I wanted to shout.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I bowed, letting him kiss my gloved hand. 

“Shall we, then?” He nudged his chin towards the Archbishop, the old man scowling at me as I met his gray eyes. Giving a weary nod to my groom, I followed him up the small set of stairs leading to the dais with my hand held firmly in his. 

“Your Majesty,” the archbishop bowed to my groom and him alone, his eyes never once meeting mine as he began to recite the words passed down from century to century, joining man and wife together under their god’s divine grace. A load of antiquated bullshit that meant nothing to me and my family, who pray to the Goddesses who value true love rather than all of this marrying for power. 

It made me hate my father all the more. 

When the archbishop was finished, Kaius--my King, my husband--took my face in his hands and stared at me, a wicked grin that promised we’d have fun together. More likely, that he’d have fun with me. I tried not to shudder as he pulled me in and kissed me, his lips soft and skilled and yet I felt nothing but shame. It felt wrong, like my body and soul agreed that I was not supposed to be here. When he pulled away, I forced a smile onto my face, but there was no hiding the tears in my eyes. 

“Look at that,” he called out into the dead silent hall, his court and guests looking on with a mixture of awe and pity. “My bride is shedding tears of happiness.”

I wiped the rolling tear off my cheek and lowered my eyes to the floor. I hated the crowd’s staring, hated that my husband was already taking my pain and turning it into something that benefited him. 

Eyes up. Ezra’s voice sounded again, only for my mind to hear. Don’t let them see you as a lamb. That voice lowered to a whisper. You’re a golden lion.

I don’t feel like a fucking lion, I griped back, lifting my eyes just to glare at him as he stood by the dais. 

“Come, bride,” Kaius looked at me, his eyes sweeping over every feature, that handsome yet vile smirk spreading wider as I fixed a winning smile onto my face. “You are a stunning creature. Dull, perhaps, but…stunning, nevertheless.”

“You are so…generous with your compliments, Your Majesty,” I managed, corralling my restraint and those royal manners I was taught as a girl. Kaius’s responding wink was enough to let me know he saw right through my pretty smiles, but that he didn’t give a shit so long as I fulfilled my half of the bargain. An heir. 

“Let us celebrate,” Kaius called out into the pin-drop silent hall as dinner commenced, his eyes dark as they remained on me as they had been all night. “To my beautiful bride and the true love we’ll share.”

“To true love!” the room called back, raising their goblets. I could only manage a murmur of agreement, by body outright refusing to play the role I’d been given. My eyes hadn’t left my plate besides to look to my right at Kaius seated at the head of the table, and directly ahead of me at Ezra who watched me just as carefully as the rest of the room. Only his attention felt welcome--reminded me of my humanity, my humor, my true self.

“My dear,” Kaius purred, lazy and bored and privileged. “Have you met my uncle?” He carelessy gestured at the man sat on the other side of me. I hadn’t noticed him, hadn’t met him, nor did I want to given his predatory gaze as my eyes met his. 

“Lord Oziel of the Frostlands,” the old, musty smelling man leaned in and kissed my gloved hand. His face was severe, nothing at all like Kaius’s unnerving beauty. With his thick, raven black eyebrows, his pale and wrinkled jowls, and the odor of booze and bad breath permeating with every word, I found it a feat just to keep what little I had in my stomach down. “That beauty sitting across from you is my wife, Lady Emita.”

My eyes willingly turned from Lord Oziel to his shockingly young and gorgeous wife, Emita. Her skin was as dark as the night sky, her eyes a startling amber that looked like wildfire. Her perfectly symmetrical almond eyes locked with mine, and I offered a smile, hoping to win a friend at court who might understand my current predicament. But Lady Emita offered me no smile, no ounce of warmth or friendliness in her eyes. 

“You’re from Solis?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips. “You look like it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered despite my attempt at confidence. 

“I didn’t mean that to be a compliment,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she stared down into the pool or dark red filling her cup. Out of instinct or embarrassment, my eyes flickered to Ezra’s, finding him with a clenched jaw, his fork stabbing at his plate a touch too aggressively for a royal. 

“Emi,” Lord Oziel warned, sounding more like her grandfather than anything. 

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” she waved a hand I supposed was meant to be an attempt at an apology. “Where I’m from, we don’t waste time with flattery.”

“Where is that?” I asked, my voice edged with frustration and embarrassment and disgust. 

“Heims,” she replied. “Your sister…what is her name again, husband?”

“Princess Wilhemina,” I cut in, my heart pounding at the mention of my eldest sister, the future Queen of Heims. 

“Yes, yes,” Lady Emita droned. “She is a rare jewel, managing to fit in so well in Heims. It isn’t as…soft as your Kingdom.”

“She is the strongest woman I know,” I managed, my heart calming now that I knew no insults would be hurled at my sister. “But I know many strong women in Solis. In fact, I can’t say that I’ve ever met a land who embraces women in power so much.”

“That didn’t stop your father from sending you off like cattle to the first buyer,” she challenged, her lips curling on one side the same way Kaius’s did when he was thoroughly pleased with the look on my face. That look that screamed naivety. 

“You’ve had enough to drink,” Ezra cut in, plucking the goblet from Lady Emita’s grasp without care for the seething look she shot him. “And Lady or not, you’re speaking to your Queen. Mind yourself.”

“My good Hand,” Kaius grinned. “Always doing the work I don’t want to do. Corralling these socialites is no easy task, wife.”

Wife? Property. 

“Queen or not--” 

Lord Oziel’s kick to her shin under the table was so hard it rattled our plates, my face going pale at the act of aggression, at the way no one in the room paid it any mind. At least Ezra had the decency to let his magic wash away her pain. 

She’ll be fine, he assured, his voice a pleasant echo in my mind, clearing away most of the haunting thoughts lingering in my head. 

She might have a mouth, but it’s awful that Kaius allows him to treat her like that, I replied, lowering my eyes to my plate. Any idea why she hates me? 

The North has always envied the South, he said. They think you’re untried, soft, naive. 

And you?

For a moment, when I first met you, he replied while shoveling food into his mouth as ungracefully as I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure why that made me like him more. But that judgment has long been wiped away. 

I haven’t managed to win over my husband so easily, I chided, managing a bite of my own food. The first bite I’d eaten since…I couldn’t remember. Time felt so strange here, as if it was frozen and sped up all at once. 

He looks happy, he offered. That’s as much as you can expect from him.

I expected him to be in love with me, I snapped, hating that in all my loathing and disgust, I still yearned for my husband’s approval. 

Kaius might not be in love with you, but he is in love with the fact that every single man in this room can’t take their eyes off of you, he replied, stabbing another piece of steak with his fork. Goddess above, I couldn’t stop watching him eat like an animal. Couldn’t stop imagining what else he’d do like one. 

All but you, I irresponsibly purred back, eyes fixed on him from across the table. Ezra’s eyes finally, albeit slowly, lifted to meet mine, dark brown meeting amber as I stared back. His stare flickered to my lips before lifting again, a subtle, hardly there smirk growing on his face. 

Do you like having my eyes on you, Princess? His voice was like a drug at this point, but when he lowered it like that…I worried I might be beyond the point of help when it came to my addiction to it. 

Do you want me to like it? I asked, twisting my mouth to control my growing smile as I let my eyes fall to my plate, my fork batting a few peas back and forth.

I want you to yearn for it, he managed, his voice strained with something akin to desperation. 

I didn’t have time to tell him I already did before my husband dropped his fork to his empty plate and announced dinner was over, not caring if the rest of the room hadn’t finished their meals, and that the ball would soon commence. 

“My bride, would you care to join me on the veranda?” Though I did not want to do anything of the sort, as if I had a choice, at least he went through the motions of asking. 

Say no, Ezra warned, not at all like a General or the King’s Hand, but as a friend. 

I said nothing in response, not willing to take the chance on what would happen if I denied my King anything, especially in front of his court, and accepted Kaius’s hand. 

Marigold, Ezra called again, his voice only mine to hear. I felt guilty ignoring him, but if Lady Emita showed me anything, it was that these people did not care what happened to me. Kaius could do whatever he wanted, and they’d turn a blind eye. So, I followed my husband toward the veranda, allowing the ice cold to whip across my exposed skin. 

Kaius was quick to pull me off into the shadows, where no one could see us. I couldn’t even see him as he leaned in to kiss me, a real kiss this time compared to the one we shared at the altar. His teeth bit at my lip and tongue as I struggled to keep up, struggled to want him. 

“Shall we consummate our marriage here, in front of our guests?” he rasped into my ear, his hands wandering greedily. “Do you want them to hear us? Hear my name coming from your lips?”

I certainly did not. 

“Bedroom,” I managed, breathless and dizzy and full of shame. “I want to go to your bedroom.”

Kaius had the audacity to look disappointed, but quickly grunted his agreement and tugged me back inside the warmth of the main hall. All eyes remained on us as he practically yanked me into the King’s corridor, a long, dark hall that connected his private wing to the rest of the castle. 

“Don’t get used to calling the shots,” he warned, stalking down the hall in front of me. “I’m not usually so…submissive.”

As if I needed reminding of his affinity for dominance. 

Though I’d never been touched before, at least not to this extent, I knew enough from my older sisters to know that I should be feeling at least a morsel of pleasure, but at best, sex seemed to feel more uncomfortable and foreign than anything else. It felt like a piston moving inside of me every time his hips snapped into mine. Not excruciatingly painful, but not pleasurable in the slightest. 

But I didn’t let it show out of fear of bruising the King’s ego. 

“Look at you,” he panted, reaching his large hand down to cradle my face as he drove into me, my overdramatic moans no doubt spurring him on. “So desperate for it.”

I held back my scoff. The only thing I was desperate for was for this to end. For me to fall pregnant with a healthy heir on the first try so I never had to do this again. 

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that men kill for this, start wars over this, give up every shred of moral decency to do this very act. It must feel dramatically different for them, otherwise, I’d think they were all severe masochists.

“Open your eyes,” he snarled, slipping his hand from my cheek to my throat. My eyes flashed wide with fear as he squeezed, not enough to hurt me, but enough to show me just how easily he could. “That’s better.”

Goddess, how much longer would this go on?

As if reading my mind, Kaius bottomed out in me with a groan loud enough to hurt my ears, his body falling forward to cover mine. I waited there, absolutely still beneath him as he caught his breath, waiting for him to roll over onto his side so that we could go to sleep and, hopefully, never have to do that again. 

“Virgins are always so much better,” he mused as he finally rolled over, making my skin crawl. I turned onto my side, studying him in all his post-orgasmic bliss and wondered how such an attractive man could be so nauseating. “Would you like me to…call someone?”

I laced my brows together. “For…”

“To escort you back to your chambers,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in my private quarters, did you?”

“I assumed--”

“Try not to do that,” he grunted, climbing out of bed and throwing his midnight blue, velvet robe on before pouring himself a drink. 

I looked over at the ornate candle holder on the bedside table and considered throwing it across the room at him, but managed to refrain. 

“Are you going to answer me?” he snapped, glaring at me from across the room. “Escort or no?”

“Oh,” I managed. I didn’t want some guard walking me back to my chambers in uncomfortable silence while I…processed the night. “I’ll manage on my own.”

“Good,” he nodded, tilting his chin towards the door. “You can go, then.”

Though I yearned to move quickly, my body wasn’t so ready for the hustle. I slowly climbed out of bed and ignored the sticky mess between my thighs as I slipped on my wedding gown that suddenly felt a lot heavier than before in more ways than one. Without so much as a goodbye, Kaius watched me leave from over the lip of his crystal glass, his eyes almost predatory. I knew instantly that I’d played my part too well. 

He’d come back for more, heir or not. 

I only allowed myself to breathe once the stone door of his chambers had closed, the cool air of the night drowning out the smell of his fine cologne still burning my nostrils. The guards posted along the halls of the King’s quarters didn’t look me in the eyes as I passed them, but I could still feel their desire. It made me feel sick in a way I never had before, knowing that if given a chance, each and every one of them would take it. Even if I had just been with someone else. Even with the tears streaming down my face. 

I shattered completely the minute I turned down the hall and found I was finally alone. It was all I could do not to curl up in a ball in the middle of this cold, dark corridor and weep. 

I wanted my mother. I wanted to fall into her arms and sob. I wanted to hear her voice and know that good things still existed in this world. But I was alone, and I’d always be. 

As I descended the staircase to the second floor, I could hear the festivities still raging on in the grand hall below me. The world still turned, no matter how frozen in time it was for me. 

“Your Highness?” 

My head whipped in the direction of a familiar voice. Ezra stood in the shadows of a corridor near the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase, but he wasn’t alone. Still pressed against the wall stood a breathless, flushed Lady of the Frostlands. Lady Emita. 

I felt sick again, for an entirely new reason. I hated her out of sheer jealousy, my eyes sharp as I ignored Ezra’s shocked stare. And then I hated myself for being so childish, so selfish. She was just a young woman, my age or even younger, trying to distract herself from her own brutal reality with a more age appropriate, more handsome, and charming man. 

I just wished it hadn’t been Ezra. 

“I…” I started to speak but couldn’t get the words out. My hand gestured up the staircase, towards where the King remained, basking in the afterglow of his pleasure while I…

Ezra’s face turned from shock to guilt before setting on rage, darkness so black it was blue pooling in his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he managed through gritted teeth, staying frozen just a foot away from his blushing mistress. 

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, my voice strained as my throat tightened. He didn’t seem to believe me, but I couldn’t blame him given the tears still streaming down my face. 

“Let me walk you to your chamber,” he offered, tipping his chin towards the corridor. Lady Emita clicked her tongue at him, clearly growing impatient, but he didn’t look her way. His dark eyes remained locked on mine. “With so many guests still on the grounds—“

“No,” I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat as I walked down to the landing with my chin held high, my jealousy so rampant I wondered if my amber eyes had turned a shade of green. 

Standing closer to him, I could smell the wine on his breath, could see the remnants of lust in his eyes. I fought the urge to vomit at the thought of what I would have seen if I had stumbled upon the two of them just a few minutes later. 

“Besides,” I said, my tone icy, my eyes still sharp. “It seems as though you’re currently busy.”

“It’s my duty to ensure your safety,” he countered, still not so much as glancing at his mistress. “I will never be too busy to tend to you, Your Highness.”

“I don’t need tending to,” I gritted out. Unlike Ezra, I couldn’t help but to constantly glance at Lady Emita. And unlike Ezra, I could see just how unwilling she was to share him. 

“Princess,” he cooed, his eyes finally warming as he took one step away from Lady Emita and one step closer to me. 

“I am not a princess. I am your queen,” I said, my voice on the verge of cracking. “That will be all for tonight.”

Though his lips parted to speak, I didn’t wait to hear what came out of them. I turned and let the sound of my heels drown out their lovers quarrel as Lady Emita finally spoke, cursing him with words so colorful I knew they could have only come from her crass husband. 

I didn’t let myself cry until I was shut inside the confines of my suite, too fearful that Ezra had stubbornly followed me to ensure my safety. Too sick to sleep and too tired to think, I made myself comfortable in front of the fire in the sitting room, one of my mother’s favorite books in my hands until the world around me looked less cold and more like home.