#getting a taste of that type of freedom would probably make him desperate enough to attain it again through marriage

[impactrueno]

earlier today someone i was discussing beetlejuice with via dms brought up beetlejuice going to juilliard and at first i thought "oh yeah, that had to be him talking bullshit since he wasn't even alive by that point"

but then i was like. hold up.

he's been a ghost for 600 years. what's stopping us from guessing that he could've spent some time roaming the realm of the living just because someone didn't "put him back" or some other reason, like. maybe he did get to attend juilliard and people didn't even realize he was a ghost. just a really fucking creepy and stinky guy.

much to think about..........

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 6

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

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Chapter 6: Farewell Gifts

< | Previous Chapter

The morning sun had begun filling your room, sneaking through parted curtains to cover everything in a warm glow. You had been reluctant to stir, a sense of melancholy hanging around you. You knew exactly why that was. You would be leaving tomorrow morning. There was good and bad to it, you supposed. You were introduced to a taste of freedom and new possibilities that came with this marriage. Yet it still meant saying goodbye to everything you knew here.

You slowly turned over in your bed, moving out of it. Might as well start the day, though. Moping wouldn’t get too much accomplished. You padded over towards the window, peering out of it for a few moments. The sun covered the land beyond the castle in a pleasant glow. Nature carried on like nothing was going to happen, and you couldn’t help but huff. You needed to as well. Even as you looked to the horizon, wondering what it held for you. Hopefully a decent life.

You hardly thought too much as you grabbed a dress, sliding it over your body. You didn’t even know what today held for you, either. You would find out after breakfast, though. That’s usually how things went for you. Taking each day as it came. You slid on your shoes, fastening them tightly. Take today one step at a time. Tomorrow would come when it came. 

The door to your room creaked quietly as you opened it, being careful to shut it softly. It clicked as it slid into pace, and you rubbed your face. Food would undoubtedly help you get in a better mood. Having your mind busy while you were on an empty stomach was hardly a good idea.

“Good, you’re awake. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” A voice called out. You jumped, a startled yelp escaping your lips. You covered your mouth as you sought out the voice, glaring at the owner. Dream was lounging against a wall across from you, and you reached out to shove at him playfully.

“Are you trying to make my soul leave my body?!” A laugh escaped him, though it felt almost tense. Was he still bothered by dinner last night? You didn’t care to mess with it, though. He’d likely get over himself. He usually did.

“Maybe I am. Do I get to keep you here if I do?” He mused as they walked, heading towards the dining hall once again. Like it was a normal morning. You truly wished it was, honestly. Nonetheless, you sighed, head shaking.

“You know I can’t stay, Dream. As much as you want me to. This is a matter bigger than you or I. Besides! I think it’ll be good for me, don’t you think?” You beamed over at him. It seemed like it would do you good, truthfully. It was presenting you with at least one option you had never been offered here: Training. The opportunity to fight and defend yourself. You deserved that much at least, right?

“I think it’ll be dangerous. They’ve never had a good reputation, how do I know you’ll be safe?” He threw back in rebuttal, making you sigh heavily. Always fretted over your wellbeing.

“Techno said it’s not that bad, I have no reason to not believe him.” You settled into your normal spot at the table. Breakfast was much simpler than dinner. The food was already set out, waiting to be eaten. You didn’t waste time, reaching for a few various dishes to eat.

“I beg to differ,” Dream murmured as he also sat, grabbing stuff to eat as well. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for whatever was with him. He just didn’t like Techno, for whatever reason. Always so protective of you. Though it was reassuring in a weird way.

“Whatever you say. What have you got planned for me today?” You queried instead, eager to change the subject away from your fiancé. You really didn’t want to deal with whatever problem there was with that subject.

“Going out to the markets in town. Make sure there isn’t anything that you need before leaving. Let the people in the capital see you one last time. It’ll probably eat most of your day, though,” He said. That was fine. It sounded like a good plan. You could do with a few things from the market. A few things to remind you of home.

You nodded for a couple of heartbeats, finishing the mouthful of food in your mouth before speaking. “That sounds fine to me. I wouldn’t mind picking up a couple of things to bring along. Oh! Techno! Good morning.” The pink-haired prince had walked into the dining hall when you were speaking to Dream. He settled across from you, glancing briefly to Dream before you.

“Good morning,” he finally returned, causing you to smile. Dream practically brooded beside you as your attention shifted away from him. You just elected to ignore it for the time being. He’d probably be just fine once the both of you were in the market. You were allowed to exchange some words with Techno before heading out for the day, at least.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, reaching for your cup with a contented hum. He nodded in response, gaze moving to Dream. You warily eyed the pair of them, trying to read whatever silent stand off they seemed to be having. Was it over the whole training thing? Either way, it was ridiculous and you did not want to deal with whatever tension was between them.

Clearing your throat, you attempted conversation once more with a soft, “Did you finish your books?” Techno’s gaze quickly pivoted back to you, seeming to forget about Dream for a few minutes. Good. 

“Most of them. I couldn’t finish the last one before I needed to sleep,” He replied. You nodded in acknowledgment. That was impressive, though. It did make you wonder how much he slept. Not like you could tell. Not with that mask on his face.

“Well, you can finish that one today. Dream and I are going out to the market to pick up some things before I leave. I’ll probably spend time with my family after dinner,” You explained. You wiped at your hands, turning to look at Dream and offering him a smile. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk starting tomorrow,” Techno mused. There was something almost smug in his voice, and you could hear Dream huff beside you. What the hell had happened with them? You weren’t given much time to ponder, as Dream stood up and held a hand towards you.

“Ready?” He asked, and you nodded slightly. You eyed his hand for a few moments, debating on if you should take it. You ultimately did, allowing him to pull you up. You waved towards Techno, offering him a smile. Even as you were nearly hauled away by Dream, you could hear that huff of his that signified laughter. He met your wave with a shake of his head, returning the action all the same.

You were content, despite how quickly Dream was walking. The interactions with Techno were pleasant, and increasingly less awkward. You caught up with Dream, letting go of his hand as you did. “Alright, do you have any specific plans on where to visit?” You questioned, forcing him to slow down.

“Not exactly. I figure we can just walk through the market, see what catches your eye,” He mumbled. You nodded along, finding it fair enough. You didn’t entirely know what you were looking for. So, for that reason, browsing around didn't seem too bad of an idea.

The walk wasn't too long. Slowly the calm path towards the castle morphed into busy streets, teeming with life. The heart of the capital was alive with noise, vendors in their stalls calling to people in the streets. The smell of various foods wafted in the air around you as you walked, a certain type of happiness settling in your chest. It was easy to forget the melancholy that hung around the castle while you were here.

It wasn't too long of wandering before you were noticed. Vendors would excitedly call to you, trying to get you to buy some of their wares. You did always look, complimenting whatever they were selling half the time. From one stand, you purchased a trinket box, the metal heavy in your hands. The sun caught onto the ornate lid, causing the jewels set into it to sparkle. The sides were less flashy, but still well made, with roses carved into the side. It spoke to you, practically, reminding you warmly of the kingdom you were going to leave.

As you continued your trek, an older voice called to you with urgency, a soft, "Princess! Come, come!" An older man beckoned to you, age wearing down his face and hands. You didn't even need to think twice, walking towards him with Dream in tow. The man behind you was busying himself with a stuffed bun he had bought, seemingly content to just follow you. The old man smiled as you walked over, looking down to his wares.

Knives and daggers covered the majority of the surface, though there was an occasional sword or bundle of arrows. The handles had intricate designs carved into the leather, though the blades were no less sharp or decorated. "I hear you're going on a dangerous journey soon," The man's voice interrupted you. You moved your attention to his face, meeting his gaze calmly.

"It's really not as dangerous as everyone is making it seem," You explained, offering a smile. The man just laughed, shaking his head at you.

"Off, alone, with a man too afraid to show his face and hides behind the face of a beast. If he is comfortable wearing the face of a beast, surely he is one himself." There was an edge to his voice and you could only sigh. Gossip from servants traveled fast, and it seemed stories of Techno's appearance had already reached the capital. You didn't care too much, though his words were minutely unsettling.

"You need to protect yourself from him. I have the perfect thing for you- free of charge. We can't have you getting hurt in enemy territory." He explained, rustling around to pick up one of the daggers. You were tempted to protest the price, surely not wanting to take from him. It wasn't right. Even if he did offer. Yet you could tell he wouldn't accept a single coin you gave him.

He presented the dagger to you for inspection, which you did humor. It was a pretty dagger, a dark leather grip with flowers sitting amongst vines of thorns. The cross guard was simple, curved, with a flower sitting in the middle of either side. The pommel similarly matched, while the thorned vines crawled down onto the design in the metal. It felt perfect in your hands, and you could have sworn the man had made it just for you.

You looked up to him, his dark eyes twinkling with something you couldn't place. "It's beautiful, thank you," You murmured your thanks. Any thought of rejecting it had left you the moment the leather fell to your hand. He seemed delighted by this, reaching to take it back to put it in a sheath. The sheath was put into a belt before being handed off to you.

"Keep yourself safe, little one," he told you. You nodded, fingers running along the leathed of the belt. You didn't really wear belts, so it felt almost foreign in your grip.

"Here," Dream interrupted, picking up the belt. He didn't waste time in fastening it around your waist, the dagger comfortably sitting against your hip. It was positioned so that your dominant hand could grab the dagger easily, should you need it.

"I thought you didn't want me to have weapons," You grumbled. Dream was silent as he resumed his earlier position, walking with you once more. With each step, the dagger hit your hip. It was a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one. 

"I don't, but I don't trust Technoblade. A dagger is straightforward enough to use. Even you can't fuck it up." He sounded bitter at the mention of Techno, but seemed to divert it to light hearted teasing. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe I'll try it on you first." You shoved him with your shoulder, unable to hide your laugh at his affronted gasp.

"You wouldn’t!" His exclamation was followed by a laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the things you would miss.

The sun climbed even higher into the sky as the pair of you walked, with you buying a few trinkets. You bought a few pieces of jewelry from various vendors, too fond of their work to part with it. Who knew when you would be given the chance to visit this market again. You and Dream had stopped by a small bakery to eat lunch, listening to the tales around you and watching the streets.

It was only when the sun was falling, and the daytime vendors began to pack up, that you started your way back. Dinner time would be soon. As the streets emptied, the activity dwindling down, you felt the melancholy creep back over you once more.

"I got you something," Dream finally interrupted, causing you to look up at him. Your eyebrows knitted for a moment, trying to remember when he had snuck off to get it. Or maybe he had brought it with him.

"You did?" You asked, pausing in the street.

"I got it earlier this week, but today seemed a good time to give it to you," He explained, rustling around for a few moments. He grasped a small bag, pulling it out and untying it. He didn't look directly at you as he pulled out the piece inside, instead focused solely on it.

It was a necklace- a very extravagant one at that. You don't think you'd ever had one like it. Multiple strands of beads connected three large jewels together, with charms comprised of smaller jewels in the shape of roses dangling from it intermittently. The light caught the yellow jewels, though red tinged the outside of them. It was always roses, wasn't it? It always had been.

In the very middle sat a metal plate, carved with the image of a picked rose with its thorns clipped. It was pretty. You couldn’t even imagine how much it cost. "Thank you, Dream. You didn’t have to get me something like this," You had started. He huffed in response, moving behind you to drape it around your neck.

"I know, but I wanted to. I hope whenever you wear it you think of me," he mumbled as he fastened it, the comfortable weight settling against your neck. You touched it, smiling softly.

"I will, Dream. Don't make me cry, though. There's too much left to do today." You knew you would be a mess by the end of the night. After all, this was your family you were leaving. It was going to sting just a little.

The walk back to the castle was relatively silent. Dream was thinking about something, but you didn't press. You weren't sure you could handle it right now. Once you had returned and eaten dinner, it was time to spend time with your family. Which, truthfully, you were glad to. Dream didn't protest on going home, though he did send a final accusatory glance at Techno as he left.

The prince didn't linger after dinner, simply bidding you a good night as he went to retire to his own rooms. You were fine with that, though. It let you put your whole concentration on your family as the four of you sat in one of the rooms. You all spoke fondly of everything you could think of. All of you were almost reluctant to say goodnight.

"I can't believe my baby is leaving tomorrow," Your mom finally broached the topic. You offered a sad smile, moving to hug her.

"I'll always write to you," you whispered, face nestled into her neck. She didn't say anything for a long while, just holding you there. You didn't complain, letting her do so. As she pulled back after she seemed ready, she reached for the blanket that had been sat in her lap.

"This was my great grandmother's, and has been passed down to the eldest daughter of everyone in our family. It's your turn to take it," She murmured, handing it to you. The weave was heavy, the red fabric carefully twined with golden accents. You could tell it was old, but you were extremely glad to have it.

"Thank you, I'll cherish it. Should I have any daughters, I'll give it to them as well." It was unknown if you would have children. It depended on how the marriage required itself to be upheld. Your gaze turned to your dad next.

"You always were getting into trouble and going on adventures. Don't get into too much trouble over there, okay?" He murmured affectionately, offering you a hug. This one wasn't nearly as long as your mother's, but that was fine. He wasn't as attached as your mother, nor as affectionate, so the hug meant the world to you.

You had nodded, not trusting your words right now. This was the worst part. Leaving. The goodbyes. Even harder was turning to George, who stared at you with an almost sad smile. "I'm going to miss you. Who else am I going to walk through the gardens with now?" He asked, causing you to give a watery laugh. You imagined he would make do.

"You always did love the gardens, so here's a piece of home. Only some light reading." He extended a hand, holding a thick book out to you. The leather cover was embossed with various flowers, and you smiled. It was a flower guide. Flowers were important to your kingdom, and though you were fond of them you never bothered to learn them. Now it was time, you supposed.

"I'll miss you, George. Try not to have too much fun without me," Your voice cracked as you spoke. He nodded, arms curling tightly around you within seconds. You sniffled, hiding against his shoulder and clinging to him. His hugs were always the best, not having them readily available to you would hurt. You didn't like it.

"Just promise me you'll write and take care of yourself." You could only nod as his voice reverberated through you. You didn't want to let go, but the seconds bled into minutes and sleep was calling you. Even as reluctant as you were, you did let go.

"I'll write to everyone. As often as I can," You said. You choked a little, refusing to say goodbye. Even as you walked with George to your room, you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Next Chapter | >

[demonslayedher]

Hello! I don't know if you've been asked about this before but I love your analysis and reflections and I'd love to know all your thoughts about Zennezu if you don't mind 👀⚡🎀 Thanks so much for this blog!! 😊💝

Thank you again for your patience, as well as your comments on my fics and stuff in the meantime (even on Bird Fic, kya~ thank you <3). All my thoughts, hmmmmn…. Well, clearly I am a fluffy ZenNezu shipper and ship-content creator now, but I sure didn’t start that way. This may be long and rambling and mixed between analysis and personal taste. (Actually, it turned into almost 4000 words.)

So. First a little background. I usually am not much of a shipper. The very few OTPs I have all ended in horrific tragedy, and when romance is a big focus of something I’m otherwise enjoying I usually end up not paying much attention to it in favor of all the other elements I like. This is so much more the case when you can tell they’re going to wind up happily ever after. So what happened to make me so soft and fuzzy about the Kimetsu ships, when I otherwise usually don’t have an appetite for happy fluffy romantic endings?

Three major factors: 1. I’m obsessed. 2. I love these characters and want to see anything and everything about them. 3. Romance wasn’t actually a big element at all in canon, so it left me with an appetite and curiosity for it.

Even though I figured from long ago that ZenNezu would be end game, initially I was somewhere between indifferent and put-off. As much as I love Zenitsu, and I acknowledge that Ufotable the added the “run around and chase Nezuko” bit and removed the part with Zenitsu adoringly talking to Nezuko through her box, and as much as he can be defended for being lonely rather a pervert, the fact still stands that his level of appreciation for girls makes the characters around him uncomfortable. His most cringe-worthy lines at the Butterfly Mansion are all straight from the manga, and even though he was easily one of my favorite characters by the end of my initial watch of the series, I was very put off by his “girls are all queens” surface-level comments and more disturbing pleasure he took in the presence of girls (especially when he could physically interact with them), not to mention his pathetic introduction bothering a complete stranger and displaying that he doesn’t actually take girls’ feelings into consideration.

All this made me inwardly groan, feeling bad for Nezuko, figuring they were going to wind up together because she’s a saint who can find the patience to deal with someone like that, as he clearly wasn’t going to be desirable to any of the rest of the female cast. Enjoying the series well enough despite this, it didn’t bother me terribly much, pairings happen, whatever, I have a history of ignoring them. But one day, well and deep into caring about this whole cast like they’re all my children, I realized something. Isn’t… isn’t it cute how they both get their strength from taking naps? W-wouldn’t it be cute to see them innocently take naps together? Naps to protect each other? Oh. Oh-h-h-h-h. Oh dear. Oh no, it’s cute. Oh no. OH NO.

And that was how my warming up to this pairing started, it very quickly grew into “I love these children and I want them to be happy, being with Nezuko will make Zenitsu very, very happy, I love seeing him happy, happy Zenitsu” but was still a little reserved about Nezuko. Zenitsu was going to make her happy, right? It wasn’t just going to be a case of Nezuko having gotten fond of him over the course of everything they’ve been though, he is actually going to be her taste and make her heart go “kyun” right? Oh Nezuko, oh saintly Nezuko…

Let’s take a moment to pause here and think chronologically, though, as well as analyze their personalities and tastes. Neither of them are particularly picky, we can start there. Aside from fussy busy-bodies like Aoi, as long as it’s a girl, any girl is Zenitsu’s type. He’s desperate, and he’s painted the whole of girl-kind in pretty similar, not always realistic rosy colors. Even though he’s been used and abused by so many girls in his past, it’s his desire to believe that each new one he meets will fit that rosy imaginary color he paints over them that he chooses to let himself be duped, because he really is that lonely. I’ll give him that, sure, he’s a healthy young man with an interest in physical touch, but his dream in Mugen Ressha gives a good indication of what he’s really looking for: companionship, someone who likes spending time with him, someone who will find him useful and believe in him and look to him for protection, someone who likes him enough to spare him the physical intimacy of simply holding his hand. This is all an extension of what Zenitsu desires as whole, hoping he can better himself enough to be reliable and valued in general. Picturing it in the form of a significant other is one very vivid way to focus all those feelings, resulting in that rosy ideal which Zenitsu probably knows in his heart of hearts is too good to be true. That’s why he probably doesn’t think he’s ever going to find it, and therefore why he’s all over any slightest chance of attaining it.

My gosh, if being abandoned over and over isn’t enough, the fact that none of the girls he dated in the past were ever willing to even hold his hand hurts so much.

Nezuko, though, grew up in a secure family with a good relationship to observe between her parents. She probably always envisioned growing up to be like her mother, the quintessential “good wife, wise mother” (a phrase coined later on in the Taisho period to idealize the traditional roles of a woman). She cooks and cleans and sews and the first fanbook even tells us she was good at using an abacus, so she can handle family finances like a pro. Her traditional values probably made her tastes pretty standard, hoping for a reliable protector, but also someone who might be as kind as her father and her brother. But as for what makes her heart go doki-doki? The extra comic at the end of volume 3 tells us that she does long since have a type, it’s a person who’s like a Hisha.

Hisha: a chess/Shougi piece that can move an unlimited number of spaces in horizontal and vertical directions, and is crowned a dragon when it enters enemy territory.

So, yes, this is the part where we all smile and point at Gotouge and say, “I see what you did there, Wani-sensei.”

I find this reassuring; it tells me that Nezuko can find her heart squeezed at how cool Zenitsu is instead of just coming around and liking him because she was flattered by his affection and learned to see how nice he is and stuff. There are plenty of nice Demon Slayers who are strong and cool protectors, but that ZING that Zenitsu has (when he’s asleep) is something that can make her heart race. I’m all for this. I hinge so much of my ZenNezu feelings on this Hisha comment.

The second fanbook states that Nezuko initially had trouble sorting out her memories, and because Zenitsu gave her two such different impressions, it felt like memories of two different people, but over time the memories overlapped to form one complete person. We could say that she and Zenitsu had two first meetings.

Initially, when she was in the box, her little demon heart did go doki-doki; it was the first time a boy besides her brother had protected her, so even though Oniichan is Number One in her heart for the general duration of canon, this encounter was sure to leave a flattering impression. However, when they met face to face that night, he was just some confusing dandelion yelling and screaming about weird stuff, and then he was just a confusing (and possible bothersome) dandelion wanting to hang around her and give her flowers and stuff. It’s anyone’s guess just how “there” Nezuko was at this stage, as she does seem to gain back more of her own will and thought processes over the course of the series, rather than being guided by very, very simple rules to govern her behavior.

Zenitsu feel in love at first sight, and the second fanbook tells us he asked Tanjiro about her human personality, seeing as she wasn’t fully there. He was initially doubtful that anyone so perfect as Nezuko could exist and figured Tanjiro must had been biased and therefore exaggerating, but can we blame Zenitsu for being a smidge guarded? He’s been let down a lot, after all.

We know from Taisho Secrets and side novels that Zenitsu spent a lot of time with Nezuko during their long recovery at the Butterfly Mansion. Even how much more thought we see Nezuko display in the Train arc, she probably underwent a lot of mental development in this time, and my guess is that due to how much he interacted with her, this is probably when Zenitsu went from being a strange dandelion to a strange companion. She probably focused more on the goldfish and the pretty flowers (which he did take her to see!) and any flattering mention of her brother, though. Zenitsu, I’m relieved to say, seemed to genuinely care about what would make Nezuko happy instead of selfishly assuming something like “she likes me too, she wants to marry me.” But knowing Zenitsu, he probably assumed that her willingness to spend time with him was an indication of being willing to talk marriage once she was more herself again, though.

Let’s pause here and put on our Oniichan goggles, though. Early on, Tanjiro has to insist to just about everyone that Nezuko is still her own person with her own thoughts and feelings. Being a demon has taken a lot of her freedom to act on her true nature away from her, but he knows she’s still in there and he treats her like an equal human being. He had to watch over and over as people see his sister and only think, “demon.”

And then there’s his friend Zenitsu, who looks at her and thinks, “girl. Girl! Girl. Girl. Sweet girl, adorable girl, best girl in the world.” And maybe that’s a little bothersome, but yes, someone gets it!! Someone understands! Even though Tanjiro’s initial concerns are keeping Nezuko from being bothered by unwelcome advances, as long as Zenitsu is willing to respect that Nezuko is not entirely able to speak for herself now, he seems pretty approving of Zenitsu (provided Nezuko decides she likes him back). I’d like to think there was an unspoken promise between bros on what boundaries to follow. Besides that, Tanjiro believes in Zenitsu a lot more than Zenitsu believes in himself, so Tanjiro probably wasn’t worried about the “strong protector” role a future husband should fulfil. Or at least, Tanjiro doesn’t seem concerned once he gets to know Zenitsu, he’d have rejected Zenitsu flat-out on that first meeting. Zenitsu, you are so lucky Tanjiro is so forgiving.

However, for as much as Zenitsu sees Nezuko as “GIRL!! Girl, girl, girl!”, he’s still got his rosy vision that conveniently clouds out any disturbing realities. She is, after all, a demon.

This is something Zenitsu never actually had the chance to struggle with, and I would have really liked to see him challenged by that reality a bit more. He never witnessed Nezuko’s berserker mode, nor did he ever see her struggle to keep from eating someone, he wasn’t even awake to watch her fight like a violent animal/angry toddler on the train. Had there been a scene of Zenitsu forced to face how terrifying she had potential to be, it would had really sold his commitment to Nezuko specifically, instead of only Nezuko as his most likely girlfriend candidate.

On the train, Nezuko has the good fortune of seeing another side of Zenitsu, getting one hell of a doki-doki moment. As she’s gaining more self-awareness back, it probably made those doki-dokis more complex too. While I understand there wasn’t a good opportunity to fit in the pace of the story, I love that Taisho Secret of her concerned about him before he wakes up. Instead of him just being that boy who shows her pretty things and says nice things about her Oniichan, this is when he starts becoming something a little more unique among all the people whom little demon Nezuko has bet and who have been nice to her.

In the months that follow, we don’t get much deviation from this slow development. Zenitsu’s feelings toward Nezuko don’t really change at all, but there’s another thing about this ship: neither one chose the other over anybody else. They sort of just came together, Zenitsu gets hooked on one girl at a time, but what if someone had come along with an interest in him? At what point would he had given up on Nezuko? Probably pretty quickly, if someone was serious enough about him. It wouldn’t have been a break up either, since he was still in the pursuing stages (might be more of a break-up conversation with Tanjiro, who had been tacitly supportive).

Actually, for most of the remainder of the series, the affection that Nezuko and Zenitsu build for each other is done when they’re apart, dwelling on their thoughts of each other. For Nezuko, we see this come out after the Swordsmith Village arc in her sunlit elation to see him again, and her efforts to greet him. She very clearly recognizes him and is happy to see him, a big difference compared to how she was more elated by the sight of a fishbowl before. In Zenitsu’s case, this deepening of his affections and running away with his thoughts and feelings results him declaring once and for all, this is her. He’s found her. This is the girl who he will be committed to his whole life, in his heart she is already his wife.

When human!Nezuko is gaining her memories back, her first impressions are of the boy showing her pretty things and giving her flowers, someone who probably has a crush on her, rather than thinking back to someone who she may have had a crush on. (Those cool impressions probably hit her later, I’m assuming, given the stress of the moment.) Romance is not immediately on her mind, though she does quickly recall having friendly affection for this boy for has always been so sweet to her. And Nezuko, handling his surprising level of affection gracefully, helps Zenitsu off the battlefield while he’s in terrible pain (though she probably was too, my poor girl, that fight with demon!Tanjiro was so rough). But honestly, not only is she probably too overwhelmed by everything to think much about romance, but she probably doesn’t take Zenitsu very seriously initially. She knows he’s got a tendency to overexaggerate, and it’s nice that he’s so sweet to her, but since he acts all fluffy and silly around her she probably thinks he’s not being that serious either. Furthermore, she’s got a lot of people to suddenly care about, Zenitsu has a lot to contend with for trying to get special attention. Hell, Zenitsu was probably awake and causing a racket while she was frantic with worry that comatose Giyuu might die. While she did remake Jiichan’s haori to fit Zenitsu’s later, see spent her time in the hospital mending Giyuu’s haori (Nezuko, baby, doesn’t your hand hurt though!?). While Zenitsu was swept up in happy “Nezuko is human now, we’re totally gonna get married” feels, he probably didn’t even notice that he was only one slice in a very big pie of memories that Nezuko suddenly found in her lap and had to slowly chew and digest.

So… this brings us to the extra post-canon comic in the second fanbook, which I initially did not like very much back when it came out in February. I’ve come around a lot to it, but what really hit me at first was “oh no, Nezuko really is only going to accept this marriage because she’s a saint, he’s not being desirable at all.”

But, treating it with a little more patience and sympathy for Zenitsu… he’s just gotten what he’s always wanted, of course he’s going to stop striving a bit and get blissfully carried away in it. And Nezuko, the ever sweet, isn’t going to stop him.

Some of the other commentary in the fanbook states that Zenitsu, for a time, found himself terrified of how girls could be sweet to his face while hiding their true thoughts about him. But, finding that Nezuko was not at all two-faced, he nearly “died and went to heaven” as the exaggeration goes. He doesn’t like to work hard in the first place (but does, because it will make people like Jiichan proud), so getting away with being spoiled is too big of a temptation to resist. Nezuko is sensitive to what makes the people around her happy or uncomfortable, so she never makes any request of Zenitsu. She’s so grateful to have their new little family that her happiness is everyone else’s happiness, she doesn’t really desire a heartthrob romance, even if being a wife and mother is an eventual goal. And, without being under any pressure to make someone proud, Zenitsu gets swept away and indulges.

Thank you, Tanjiro, for putting a stop to this.

He’s still rooting for Zenitsu, since this is his friend and he knows it would make his friend happy to wind up with Nezuko, but he’s setting himself up for failure, or setting Nezuko up to be cheated out on a good match at this rate (if she were to accept out of being nice). Very, very thankfully, Zenitsu responds well to pressure. By this point Nezuko has gotten so used to sweet but indulgent Zenitsu that he seems she totally accepted that his Hisha side didn’t exist anymore, if it even existed in the first place.

Good for Zenitsu asking for her response a year later (when they’d be getting to the legal marriage ages for the Taisho period anyway), he knew he still had shaping up to do to earn her affection. And Nezuko probably needed time to build some admiration for him again, since the doki-dokis were so gone. Even if he couldn’t use that super cool Thunder Breath anymore, it would probably catch her attention to see him strive again, to put effort into being manly, specifically for her. It wasn’t just the Thunder Breath that gave her doki-dokis, it was the Hisha knight-like attitude too, whether asleep and acting on his inner potential, or awake and bravely defending her based on his own goodness and faith.

I hope that in their married life, Zenitsu will retain that sort of manliness in being a provider for her, even he does get indulged a lot at home.

Now for how this plays into some of my fanwork and headcanons:

You know how I said all my OTPs were tragedies? Yeah, I love a good dose of angst. I did start writing a single-scene fic one time of injured Zenitsu desperately trying to cover Nezuko from the sun while waiting for Tanjiro to find them, and in Nezuko’s panic about the sun she starts losing her self-control over her appetite, and Zenitsu is forced to confront that the girl he loves could very easily kill him. I never finished it, though, and it was embarrassingly self-indulgent.

For my big favorite AU of a monster fanfic, I did add more ZenNezu on the massive edit, because by this point I just enjoy ZenNezu so much that I wanted more of it. But!! What I really like about working with it in this fic is that there’s a conflict: Demon!Tanjiro. In this canon divergence, Human!Nezuko and Zenitsu get to interact more than they ever did while she was a demon, and they both already have affection for each other, but the lingering fact that Tanjiro is technically their enemy gives me some tension and angst to work with.

Yes, I wrote a One Shot of Zenitsu and Nezuko as fresh new parents, but it was a bit of a dark dive into Zenitsu’s feelings of inadequacy. But domesticity comes with some inevitable fluff anyway, and likewise it felt embarrassing indulgent, and I can’t write fluff without a little bittersweetness. M…maybe the reason I’m not a shipper is because I’m easily flustered???

I’d like to think that Zenitsu got a desk job that he worked hard at because he wants to be a provider, and Nezuko does find his hard work attractive. I headcanon it was at an electric company, because hahahaha, electricity. I’d like to think he had a long career in that company (and although his colleagues know him for having a bit of an extreme personality and being obsessed with his wife, they sometimes catch glimpses of a very, very strong side of Zenitsu—like, scarily strong), and that when he’s old and retired in the Postwar Economic Miracle, he buys a fancy camera to take pictures of Nezuko (instead of “say cheese” it’s “Thunderclap and Flash!”), and he takes Nezuko to Paris because that’s the romantic thing to do. Also, I don’t like moustaches as a rule, but I totally approve of old man Zenitsu having a fluffy moustache.

World War Two, though… I’d like to think that if his job had him in the city, he was extremely reliable when it came to protecting his family in case of bombing. I’d also like to think that this was when the Kamado family moved to the city, because Nezuko was worried about Kanao and her nieces and nephews, so Zenitsu made sure they were all together. Inosuke might had taken the opposite route and taken his family to the mountains to shelter out there in the wild.

AAAAHHHH, listen to me being so self-indulgent with headcanons, I pride myself on sticking close to canon in my fanwork, I will never produce this, AAAAHHHH, I’m embarrassed~~~~I---I’m not a shipper! No! I don’t have a shipper’s bone in my body! Who needs romance, it means nothing to me, I don’t get swept up in happy fantasies about young newlywed Zenitsu and Nezuko, really I don’t, I take what canon gives me and I stick with it, I’m here for bromance and comradery and fights to the death, I—I don’t need disgusting fluffy feelings, ew, ew, no, really-----ahhh, too flustered, too flustered, too flustered, no, no, no, no, no, no, WHEN DID I BECOME A SHIPPER, nnnnnnnnhhhhjjjj

Which is all to say that Zenitsu and Nezuko as a pairing really grew on me, even though it is essentially a fluffy happy pairing that only got surface-level interaction and was never seriously challenged. It’s got some shadows lurking in there, especially diving into Zenitsu’s heart, but in general this was a slow build-up of mutual affection between two characters with pretty simple desires of their own, and most of all, a desire to see each other happy. That makes it a good comfort ship.

And they’re both are sleepyheads, hNNNGGGHHHhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House - Part 13.1

Summary: Ivar clarifies your role, and Hvitserk reaps all the benefits. Words: 2588 Notes: Content Warnings for bondage (possibly uncomfortable), BDSM humiliation and dirty talk, orgasm control, roleplayed dub/noncon (now that the relationships are established I’m going to remind you less often that they’ve already negotiated consent and safety measures).

Previous posts:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

(Fic begins below the cut because it starts off with a bang, baby)

In your current predicament, the world has narrowed down to two things. The vulnerability of your body, and the total neediness of your cunt.

The two are most certainly related. Ivar is not one to make idle threats. When he told you over the phone that he believed you deserved punishment . . . it seems that he had immediately started making plans.

You’re alone, now, helpless on your own bed. Of course, it’s Hvitserk’s bed, this week. Ivar has bound your wrists to your ankles, and pointed you with your spread legs aimed right at the door. The open door.

What a sight Hvitserk is going to see when he walks in.

“You know you deserve this,” Ivar had said, trussing you up with methodical fingers. The way that he took your clothes from you, you’re not sure you’re going to get them back until Hvitserk’s no longer in town. “You had freedom, and you wasted it. Now you have to understand that you are here for our pleasure. Not the other way around. This pussy,” he said, giving it a sudden rub followed by a quick slap, “is here for our use. So . . . I’m not letting you use anything else for a little while.”

Your hands are tied to the insides of your ankles. You can try closing your legs, but your thighs won’t come quite back together with your arms bound right there in the way. Lying on your back as you are, the slit of your swollen pussy lips would still be visible between your raised legs to anyone standing in the doorway anyway. So why bother.

He had assured you that he would make sure Hvitserk “stumbled in” fairly soon, before you got too stiff in this humiliating pose. But you’re sure he’s going to stretch out the suspense as long as he thinks you can handle it.

You rock your body anyway, fruitlessly seeking just a little relief. After opening you up, Ivar had carefully applied a liberal helping of lube all over your pussy, inside and out. “I want you wet and ready for him.” A bullet vibrator came next, positioned carefully on top of your clit by a small shibari harness wrapped around your upper thighs and waist. “I am not turning this up high enough to make you come,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You are not to come until your punishment is over. This is here merely to keep you focused.”

And fuck, are you focused. You’re cursing yourself for allowing Ivar to learn your body so well, to know just exactly how high he can turn up the vibration without pushing you over the edge. And the pattern, fuck, that pulsing, wavelike rrrm, Rrrm, RRRM is damned hypnotic. You can’t possibly ignore it. And yet you want to sob every time the wave crests too soon, the intensity dropping well before the tension building between your thighs has anywhere to go.

An even more powerful thrill rushes through your body as you hear movement at the door. Lifting your head from the mattress, you see Hvitserk’s eyes widen, his steps arrested on his way into the room. He does a doubletake before his brain can fully process the obscenity he’s truly seeing in front of him. He glances back down the hallway, then slides inside and shuts the door with a shark’s smile spreading across his face.

“You seem to be kind of stuck, Y/N.” His eyes roam over the backs of your thighs, and what’s on display in between. There’s no way not to feel completely, horribly exposed to him. It’s so hot you’re probably about to start dripping all over the sheets. “Can I help you?”

You look him right in the eyes. “I need to be fucked.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, settling down on his knees beside the bed, definitely not lining up to drive himself into you like you so desperately need.

“Yeah.” You nod, quickly. “I need it bad.”

You arc and whine when Hviterk’s fingers slide around your opening, gliding between your outer and inner lips. “You’re wet enough for me to believe you.” The pads of his fingers dip inside, but only shallowly, stretching the rim of your opening in a wide swirl.

“Fuck,” you sob. That’s a lot of entirely unsatisfying stimulation right there. You need to feel filled up, not stretched out. “Please, Hvitserk. I’m here for your use, so use me, fuck me, put me out of my misery.” You have crane your neck to make eye contact with him, looking down the line of your body and between your own legs.

His eyes are dark as he stares at your naked and readied body, which shudders with the strength of your need. His eyes flit up to the ropes that bind each ankle to a wrist. “Ivar did this?”

“Yes.”

His fingers slide along the thinner cord tying the vibrator down onto your clit.

“He said it’s my lesson. I need you to fuck me until I learn.” Having to explain this to Hvitserk somehow makes your predicament all the hotter.

Hvitserk moves in closer, until you can see his face between your ankles and don’t have to contort your neck so badly anymore. “That’s what Ivar wants.” His softly scratchy voice adds weight and intimacy to his words. “But what do you want?”

His fingers are still just teasing, up and down and around your entrance. He hasn’t even taken his dick out. “Fuck! Did he send you in here to test me or something?” You’re starting to feel desperate. “This isn’t about obedience, Hvitserk. I need to be used. I want it this way. I-I just want you to fuck me like a toy.”

“That’s it?” he asks, a wicked gleam flashing through his deep-set eyes. “All this” he gestures at your body “is just here for me to play with?”

“Uh huh.”

He grins and nips at your inner thighs, and finally presses two of those long fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back and keen your pleasure.

He toys with you, for a while. The relief of friction, of satisfying depth and pressure, starts to give way to fear that he might accidentally push you into orgasm before Ivar had permitted it. That hadn’t sounded like it would be such a hard rule to follow, when you thought that Hvitserk was going to come in here like the horny bro he’d been acting like before, and just sink his eager cock straight into you.

But even when there’s no contest to be won, Hvitserk evidently loves getting up close and personal with the pussy. He pulls his fingers out just to bring them to his lips, plunging them into his own mouth to taste you with a little savoring sound as he locks a promising look onto your eyes.

He’s not done. Hvitserk’s fingers slide under the ropes that bind the vibrator against your clit, then he’s pushing them out of his way and removing it.

You sigh, relieved to be free of the temptation and missing it immediately at the same time.

But then Hvitserk’s mouth replaces the device. And this is not just a taste. This is business, the same masterful pace and pressure that won him the contest earlier.

“No . . .” you wail at him, drowning under your own conflicting needs. “No, Hvitserk, Ivar said not to.”

He lifts his head just barely far enough to answer you, so that you can feel his breath against your slick and sensitive parts with every word. “I’m supposed to use you how I want, right? And what I want to do is eat this pussy like a birthday cake.”

“You can’t,” you insist. “I’m not allowed to come!”

He barely hesitates. “But I want you to,” he says, voice breathy and urgent. And he begins another round of his very best work.

There’s not really any other type of ordeal quite like this one. Pleasure blooms, white-hot and urgent, beneath Hvitserk’s tongue, and you can do nothing but grit your teeth and try to push it back. You could use your safeword if this was truly bothering you, Ivar had told you that Hvitserk was informed how that works. But this is a challenge you prefer to ride out, come what may.

You know Ivar well enough to be sure that he’s monitoring this, although you don’t see him darkening the doorway this time when you strain your neck to look. Perhaps he’s waiting just outside the door. Or hell, maybe the walls just are as thin as the boys keep saying. Either way, it makes you want to do him proud. Show him you can endure even this absolutely torturous pleasure, and follow his command despite it.

You manage to hold out, though internally you’re screaming. Your body is clenched in a line of sheer, stubborn tenacity against that insistent rapture when Hvitserk finally gives up, swiping his face with the back of his arm as he stands up. “Fine. Is this what you want?” He pulls out his dick, proud and rock-solid with a bit of a graceful curve toward the tip. He gives himself a crude stroke. “On to the main course, then.”

You sob your victorious agreement.

He grabs a rubber. Ivar had literally left a bowl of condoms right next to you, on top of a guest towel. It doesn’t get much more demeaning than that.

Hvitserk whips his shirt off and then leans over you, ready cock bobbing, and grasps one of your swaying feet in each hand. “This is so fuckin’ hot,” he intones, staring at the ropes. “Can you handle it if I leave you like this while we fuck?”

You let out a shaky breath and agree. You’ll stretch out later. This is, just as Hvitserk said, too fuckin’ hot.

The angle has your hips turned up rather sharply. He misses on his first attempt to enter you, cock slipping off your lubricated lips. He mutters an obscenity and then laughs it off, reaching down to line himself up better with an endearingly self-deprecating smirk.

It’s fun to watch him handle himself. You can’t do much to help the process, your body positioned precisely how Ivar wanted you left, with very little wiggle room. A lock of dirty blonde hair falls into his face as he peers down and lifts up onto his tiptoes to drive himself downward into your body.

It just got real, now. There’s nothing more grounding than an urgent cock pressing deep, deep inside.

Hvitserk leans over you, eyes going wide and tight around the edges as he sinks all the way into your aching pussy. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight like this.”

Your eyes bulge a little as you agree. This angle makes you feel full as hell.

Hvitserk stares down into your face as he starts moving his hips. That eye contact of his, fuck. You’re not sure how to handle it. Somehow it feels more intimate than the rubbing of your naughty bits together. He fucks down into you with an increasing pace, his lips curling up in a cheeky smile. “This is it, huh?” he glances down, looking at the way your tits bounce between your imprisoned arms, at your upturned cunt swallowing his cock down. “What you were begging for.” He interrupts himself with a sigh and a smile, bites his lip as he repeats an angle that must be particularly good for him.

“Fuck, yes,” you say, relishing the relentless depth of every one of his increasingly-wild strokes. “Use me.”

He puts one knee up on the bed, balancing the movement by wrapping an arm around your raised leg, and deepens the already-maddening intensity of the position. He groans with abandon above you, guttural sounds as he does exactly what you’ve encouraged him to do. You let him rut into you with no concern for anything else at all, neither your comfort or your pleasure. It’s worth it; the rush of this feels better than any soft, candlelit evening you could get out of a partner that was focused only on making you feel good. This is so much more complex; it scratches a deep itch you couldn’t even begin to explain, to let every boy in this apartment use your body according to their own wild and selfish desires.

Hvitserk is going to come soon. You can tell by the way his face is twisting to one side, almost wincing, the pleasure apparent in the wild sparkling of his eyes as he continues to attempt to hold onto your gaze even through all of this. You can hear it in the way his grunting breaths are matching the rhythm of his strokes, and the way his thrusts have gone from fluid to insistent, driving at a tight, brutal angle so deep that you swear he’s going to hit your backbone.

He invokes your name like a curse when he finally blows, drawing it out into a long and ragged sound. He can’t keep his eyes open for that moment, making you feel like you can finally catch your breath just as he’s losing his.

He shudders inside you, sealing himself in deep as he comes down from it. He’s propped his weight onto one hand that presses into the mattress just beside your head, so you don’t have much of anywhere to look aside from his heavy brow as he sags in the air right above you.

This time Ubbe’s not ready and waiting. You can’t see the doorway, but if Ivar’s there he has yet to announce himself. This time Hvitserk gets to stay nestled inside you as long as he wants, and you catch your breaths together.

When he lifts his head, his eyes are glittering with easy mirth and hints of something deeper. You smile back, squeezing your inner arms into contact with his body. It’s the closest to a hug you can do in these restraints.

Hvitserk turns his head, following the line of your arm up to ropes that connect it to your ankle. “Let’s get you out of those,” he says gently. He withdraws his cock with a shaky breath and eases himself back up to standing. “I can’t believe you—” his mouth is set at a wry angle and he shows his awe in a little shake of his head. “I’m sorry I—”

He’s cut off by Ivar’s return, his voice a sharp, loud contrast that instantly shifts the mood. “Leave those, Hvitserk. I will handle that.”

Hvitserk had just been reaching for your ankle. He drops his arm and melts back a bit.

“Did you enjoy my gift?” Ivar asks, stepping in between the two of you. He sets his crutch so he can stand more solidly beside the bed, and looks you over. His eyes crackle with a deep blue fire at whatever mess he sees in your face, and the expanse of your naked skin. When Hvitserk doesn’t give much of a response, Ivar moves to loosen the rope at your closest ankle. “Would you like to help me give her the rest of her punishment now?” He spares one pointed glance for his brother. “You are the wronged party, after all.”

“That wasn’t the punishment.” He looks at Ivar with a raised brow.

“Of course not. She loved that.” Ivar says, matter-of-factly, and then his whole face breaks out in his evilest grin.

Next Chapter

Link to my other Hvitserk fics

​

[normal-thoughts-official]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR BEAUTY AND THE BEAST IDEA. But may I also propose: Magnus cursed from a young age (probably bc of Asmodeus) that anyone who touches him is hurt by a blast of magic he can't control. (This may result in his mother's death). He locks himself away of his own will. Alec teaches then that it's fear that makes him lash out. Featuring: touch starved Magnus.

this idea is GENIUS actually and i love it. tbh me and my friend have a similar idea that we talk to each other about (lol) but it isn't a B&B thing, its more of an adventure AU. anyway, lets go!

so in this universe i guess magnus banished asmodeus like in the original sh verse but asmodeus cursed him with the "everyone you touch will be in indescribable pain" thing. maybe just as revenge, maybe to try and use it as bargaining chip because okay magnus, is it freedom that u want? u want to be able to have ur own friends and ur own life? fine. get me back, and ill leave u alone, and ull be free to have friends again. if not, ull be still isolated just like before. so is it gonna be win-win, or lose-lose?

but magnus doesn't budge because he knows that if he lets asmodeus free things will only get worse not only for him, but for the whole world. he is too dangerous to be out there. so, magnus resigns to his fate

and i guess in this version he wouldnt have a lot of close friends because he had been with asmodeus his whole life before he was cursed, so he was just. alone in his self-imposed isolation with no one to talk to. maybe he enchants the furniture so they gain sentience but they can't really feel pain, so at least he has someone to talk to. god im so fucking sad already

so is the furniture his friends in canon? im not entirely sure how i feel about that but also the idea of ragnor as that clock from the original movie is great. thats my most important thought on the subject ngl

btw its 4 degrees Celsius in here so im typing with gloves on so ull have to excuse my typos i am a mere brazilian and i want death

anyway okay so i guess his friends are like pieces of furniture that he spelled into sentience and they aren't his servants or anything cuz that's gross but they just like, hang out. wow im actually managing to type pretty well all things considered

so at least magnus has people to talk to but he's still touch starved because you know... a clock can't hug you and that'd just be weird. maybe them becoming sentient was an accident? lmao like magnus just wanted to automate some functions like having the clock talk to tell him the time or something and it turned out that they became sentient. possibly his magic is a little fucky because of the curse so that's why that happened? or maybe he just is way more powerful than he realizes and we all know he invented the spells he used to try and automate the things anyway. but if he gets people to talk to, well, he's not complaining

im focusing too much on this. anyway. id also like to note that im making rapha the cook/stove thing because i mean, come on. it's right there

and ok i guess alec comes into this because he uhhhhhh no u know i might go with that izzy thing. so izzy ran away from home because of maryse's bullshit and alec was sent to bring her back. so he was going after her but in the middle of the path there was the whole wolf attack thing that scared off his horse and LUCKILY magnus' house/tower/whatever was right next!!! so of course they take alec and his horse in but also WHOOPS there's a huge snowstorm that lasts for days (par the course for where magnus lives, actually. he DID want somewhere people would avoid. but also i think maybe his magic being fucky has something to do with it) so i guess alec is stuck at magnus' for the foreseeable future

which is HELL for magnus because he is terrified out of his mind that they will accidentally touch and alec will be hurt. and like.... his Constant Crave For Touch is already bad on a regular day, but having someone who could actually hug him in theory just makes it worse, you know? he hasn't interacted with other human beings in so long, just having one there is enough to make his need for touch almost unbearable and just... completely constant. it's hell

so magnus is scared, which means that he keeps to himself. so he tells alec not to go into his room, he tries not to eat at the same time, and other stuff like that, bUT his friends keep sabotaging his plans because they want him to have another friend, jesus christ!! (rapha being like "come on now magnus, you don't want my soup to get cold, do you? i'll be deeply offended. i guess you have no choice but to eat with alec". so magnus goes but the first thing he does is magic his regular table into a gigantic rectangular table with 41908410 seats and seat on on the side opposite to alec. alec just sighs

so like he's constantly coming across as rude because he is trying to avoid alec, alec just doesn't know why

but alec is also a stubborn bitch who goes stir crazy and refuses to just sit around isolated doing nothing while they wait for the stupid storm to finally be over so he can go get his sister. and magnus saved his life, so it's the least he can do to repay him in some way. besides, this is what, the first time that he's been completely away from his mom? for such a long time too? and he's finding that he feels... weirdly free and just relieved and he doesn't want to waste that opportunity with standing idly around alone all day. he had enough of that at home, thank you very much

besides yeah magnus is being rude but alec is used to straight up assholes and abusers (jace. i'm talking about jace. also maryse ofc but mostly jace) and magnus is not that. in fact he makes very polite conversation and is actually pretty fun during dinner, all things considered. he's just.... super private, i guess

AND magnus' friends are all being a nightmare with the making them interact so you know. they end up interacting. and alec makes it a point to help him take care of his house because it is a certified Depression Lair™. magnus can take care of it magically but it's like... so dark and almost suffocating at times and there is stuff like bad painting and piping problems that he never bothered to fix because it isn't affecting the functionality too much but it DOES makes life harder and alec "everything must be at 100% always" lightwood is not here for it so for a few days they are working on fixing the house and... magnus actually feels a lot better when the place has actual sunlight and looks inviting and like a home, he has to admit. when he says that to alec it might be the first time he's given him a real smile and man, is alec smitten

sidenote i guess this means that magnus doesn't exactly... dress well in this au lmaoo i mean it makes sense too because canonically magnus uses dressing up as a way to convey an image of power and untouchability and he doesn't really need that in this AU since he is completely isolated. so i guess he is a bit more like twi magnus - bare-faced and wearing comfortable clothes and the like. this isn't a twi au i'm just saying that it makes more sense for him to dress like that in that context

anyway. after the whole house fixing thing, they officially become friends. it turns out that alec also knows a bit about what it's like to feel isolated and touch-starved (altho he's always had izzy to help in that department, but still) and also what crappy parents are like. magnus shows alec his little mirror that he's enchanted to be able to show him anything he wants and how he uses it to be able to see all the places in the world he'd like to visit - he loves people, he loves culture, and sometimes it's all he can do to watch what's going on in Mumbai and it makes him feel a little better, so, he does that. he also admits that sometimes he catches on some drama happening and uses the mirror to see the people involved and make sure they are okay. kinda like a soap opera of his own but he has the means to interfere and help because of magic, so he will have someone who's struggling with money suddenly find hidden cash or have an "unknown dead relative" give them a lot of money in their will, or something like that. and if he also watches some of their personal drama that unfolds, well. he is lonely and it's not hurting anyone

but magnus doesn't tell him about the curse, and he still makes sure to keep his distance. it stings a little to alec, but it hurts magnus the most because fuck, maybe he just desperately needs someone who will give him the time of day, but he likes this guy and that only makes it harder to keep his distance. he makes it a point to always be at at least two arms length from alec, which alec thankfully respects and doesn't try to get him to breach, but. shit. it's still so hard to not want to just rest his head on his shoulder or get a hug or even fucking touch pinkies like stupid children and he can't. alec even once jokingly suggests that they have a ball since magnus doesn't know how to dance and magnus is actually excited for a second before he remembers that he can't, it would have to mean that alec touches him, and he can't

someone - maybe ragnor - even suggests that maybe he could try gloves and heavy clothing so alec isn't really touching him but magnus refuses to try because he doesn't want to risk it not working and alec getting hurt, because he'd never forgive himself. besides, getting a taste would only make it hurt more. he can't. he can't

but it's alright because at least he has some human company - he loves his friends, he does, fiercely, but it's different when they kind of have no choice but to be with him and also are enchanted creatures. he doesn't even know if they aren't nice to him just because he enchanted them into life, even tho to be fair if he had a choice ragnor wouldn't be that grouchy - and alec makes him laugh and gets him and helped make his place feel more like home, a little bit. and he can pretend that he feels the warmth from alec's body when they are sitting by the fire and feed these crumbs to his desperate need for touch and company

and then the snowstorm ends and it's time for alec to go

honestly, alec himself is kind of heartbroken, but- he loves his sister, and he can't just leave her alone in god knows where, even if he dreads the thought of coming back home now that he's been away from his family for so long. but magnus doesn't want to keep him, and doesn't want alec to feel pity for him, so he's all but pushing alec out of the door (not literally, of course. he can't do that, it would mean touching him) all "go, go, you never know when another storm might start. go see your sister. take my mirror, you can find her more easy". and alec's all "but it's been the only thing-" and magnus waves him off, of course, all "i can always make myself another one. besides, you'll have something to remember me by. now go"

so.... alec goes

and hooo boy magnus is heartbroken and a mess because even tho he knew how much having someone else there helped he had almost forgotten what it was like to be the only human in the house. he just feels extra lonely and even kind of bad about it because hey, his friends are there - not that they begrudge him for it, of course. it's not like they don't also hope for the chance to get out of the house and do other things, but well. they can't. so they understand him. and they know how awful he's feeling right then, but what can they do?

meanwhile alec finds izzy pretty quickly - she's living with this one insufferable villager named clary that alec absolutely can't stand, but- she's happy. and she doesn't want to come back, which alec expected, but he finds that he can't actually insist for her to come back. how could he, when he himself doesn't want to go?

and izzy insists that he stays with her - there's no reason for him to come back. they can stay in the village, and work, and build a life for themselves. alec is the only thing she's been missing ever since she left, and in here the both of them can actually be happy. and do it together, like they're meant to

and when he first gets into the village is the first time since izzy ran away that he was hugged and fuck, it's hard to say no to her

but also... he misses magnus already

and he doesn't know if he can just stay and leave him behind

and of course izzy is like "who is magnus?" so alec tells her the story, how he was attacked by wolves and rescued by this house that miraculously was in the middle of the single most inhospitable placealec had ever seen in his life. and the kind but wary stranger who always keeps his distance but seems so eager for connection, who made alec feel welcome and laugh and feel like he built a life for himself there

and clary tells him that she's heard of the story, but she never knew it was more than a legend - no one really remembers what happened. some say that magnus made a sacrifice to rid the village of a demon, and it turned him into a beast, forever locked in his castle. some say that he himself is the demon, and it's the tower that's containing him and keeping the village safe. some even say that he died battling the demon, and it's his ghost that keeps watch on the tower

she wants alec to explain which one is true, but it's all alec can say that none of these are right and he knows nothing because magnus never told him. all alec knows is that he doesn't want to leave magnus behind

and clary is like... well, if he's not a demon or a ghost, maybe we could bring him to the village too. he has magic, right? he could bring the tower closer. and maybe the other villagers could, you know, visit him and hang out. and he wouldn't be as lonely, and then alec and izzy could both stay

driven by this failproof plan, they decide to go back to magnus and tell him their great idea

except they are IDIOTS and forget about. you know. the damn wolves

and like holy shit is this pack big or what? like no seriously why are there infinite wolves in that one singular pack in beauty and the beast. like holy shit dude there's more wolves near the beast's house than in the whole yellowstone park

anyway there are Many Wolves and while alec is a good archer, izzy is a fantastic fighter, and clary is Fucking Crazy if you give her something stabby, there's only so many wolves they can take on at the same time

good thing magnus is a pining idiot who did in fact make himself another magic mirror and was watching alec with it. so he knows that the dumbass is in trouble and for the first time in years, he uses the portal (his own invention, and he had never gotten to use it before!) to get to them and fight off the wolves

so magnus saves all their lives, at the cost of getting severely injured and passing the fuck out. izzy, who's the one closest, runs to get to him and help put him on one of their horses... and is immediately hit by a blast of magic that almost makes HER pass tf out too

which is when they finally learn that, oh. that is the curse

izzy is fine, of course - the pain ended as soon as she was away from magnus

but it does pose the problem of How The Fuck Are They Getting Him Back To Safety, because they can't exactly wait for magnus to wake up (it's freezing, for starters) but with this amount of pain it won't be physically possible for them to hoist him up and get him on the horse. shit, will the curse work on the horse?

they bring alec's horse (by far the strongest of them because alec is huge buff mcgee) and try to get him to touch magnus and the spell does NOT work on the horse because in order to be dramatic asmodeus was like "you shall never feel human touch again" when he cast the spell, which accidentally gave a LOOPHOLE for non-human animals. so magnus could have had cats the whole time, which he had always dreamed of, but he didnt want to risk testing. besides, his house would be a poor environment for a cat and [self torture noises]

anyway thats one less problem to deal with, 99 to go, so they use some ropes to hoist magnus on top of the horse and bring him back to the tower (it's closer than the village) so they can tend to his wounds. thankfully, as the assigned Big Brother of a very irresponsible izzy, alec has experience with first aid, altho he never really dealt with anything quite this bad. and magnus' friends help, too, as much as they can. inevitably this means that alec ends up touching him even if by accident sometimes, but he knows what to expect so he Powers Through It because he won't let magnus die, damn. and as horrible as that is alec has experience with powering through pain, so. he's gonna bandage him up god damn it

izzy can't stand to see him dealing with that himself tho, so she helps, and clary ends up helping as well because they figure sharing the pain makes it easier and alec doesn't have to be too hurt. minimal touching accidents for alec! good

*narrator voice* And Then Magnus Wakes Up And Alec Hugs Him

full on launches on top of him and brings him into his arms and Magnus screams like NONONO OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALEC NO GET OFF ME YOU'LL BE HURT and his shock and distress at the whole thing sends another whole blast of magic that explodes that whole mf before it can touch alec and alec feels no pain and magnus is like.............. did i just COUNTER the spell? and everyone's like well! it looks like u did!

which earns him ANOTHER hug (oh my god alec stop he's so stressed out by this) (who knew alec was so touchy?) and this time he's paying attention to that gut reaction and because magnus is a Certified Magic Genius he realizes what it is that he's doing to counter the spell and immediately starts working on a way to turn this into unhexxing himself for good

which he DOES after some time idk how long but alec stays with him meanwhile and maybe izzy and clary do too, because magnus needs all the company he can get and besides, izzy has always wanted adventure and clary has never left the village before, so this is interesting to them at least. and magnus gets to meet new ppl which is nice

eventually the Begone Spell spell is performed and it works and turns out that when it does that it also unfucks magnus' magic and perfects his sentience spell turning all of his friends into humans WOW WHOD HAVE THOUGHT. so all of them are free to leave the tower as ppl at the same time and GROUP HUG!! and magnus cries like a baby in the group hug because holy shit hes been needing something like this so bad for so long and he never expected to have that with his friends but here he is :)

and then yeah they all move to the village to live a simple but fulfilling life and Magnus and Alec start living together in a little cottage and become husbands the end <3 this is so long too rip me

[jj-ktae]

Note I - Ionones -

Moodboard : Courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet​ ! Thank you for helping and hyping and just being here whenever I need it.

›  Title : Fragrances ›  Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance, Composer!Jungkook x Perfume Maker!Reader ›  Pairing :  Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader ›  Warning : Mentions of Suicide, heavy subjects, depression (none of these are used with the idea of glamourising mental illness), strong language, smut in later chapters probably. Do not read if any of these trigger you.

›  Author’s note : This is another version of the story I wrote a few years ago for GOT7. Some of the events will be different, others will not change just like some paragraphs will be the same and others won’t. Informations, definitions and words are taken from this website.

›  Summary : In the world of Perfume making, it is believed that everyone has their own natural fragrance. It is also believed that everyone has that one scent capable of making them feel a thousand things. You find yours in the form of a composer on the verge of breaking, right when you have to face one of the biggest challenge in your life.

Masterlist | Note I - Ionones |  Note II : Aldehydes

________

Note I: Ionones 

Violets and Iris depend on this group of highly valued synthetic chemicals. Used in small amounts in many floral, green, woody perfumes. Although this group of chemicals is dominated by just two chemicals "Ionone" and "Methyl Ionone" there are many, many isomers and qualities available that give different odour profiles from fruity - violet - green to iris. An important function is they act as blenders in a perfume helping the perfume to smell harmonious. It is also interesting to note that the nose quickly fatigues when smelling Ionones and the smell appears to fade. This same effect is found when smelling natural Violet flowers. 

You are going back home the first time you meet him. It takes a nanosecond for the feeling to hit you straight in the bones. It forces your steps to slow down and stiffens your muscles right in the middle of the streets. You think for a minute, contemplative and in awe. Nothing about his physical appearance strikes you at first, it’s your nose doing all the job. It’s overwhelming, and so very rare it can’t be ignored. You come across this type of person once in your life as they say, causing an overwhelming feeling you never pegged as being so entrancing. It brings back memories from times you thought were forgotten, makes you want to scream and laugh. He is leaning on the bridge’s safety barrier and he doesn’t see the way you’re frozen behind him, blinking. You have never met him but it feels like you’ve known him forever.

You almost forget about your dear bed for a minute, but your phone tears you out of your adoration and you snap, your pace fastening before the man can turn around. It is hard to say if he was able to see you, and you don’t want to go away but you’re aware it might seem weird so you just keep on walking. Your body revives and your heart slows when the air turns evanescent.

You’re at home when your phone rings again, which pulls an annoyed groan out of your mouth. “What?” you mumble, plopping on the sofa in desperation.

“You need to come to the meeting tomorrow morning.” Your boss’ voice feels like a scratch on broken glass and you wince, unpleased “they want you to be here, and we have to make sure they’ll work with us.” He adds to soften you.

“I’m never invited to these and I like it better that way, why tomorrow?”

“It’s a big brand, I want them to see who is going to be in charge of their perfume. They don’t want to talk with managers. They don’t care. I promised you holidays and I swear once this is over you’ll have it. Please.”

The headache is pounding yet you sigh, defeated. You can’t reject this, you’re in no position to do that.

“I’ll be here.” You sigh, his relief now evident yet adding to your misery.

He is beaming on the phone, rushing thanks and stuttering, probably because of what seems to be a big, juicy contract. Exciting. His voice is way too loud when he wishes you a good night, leaving you with the deafening silence once he hangs up. 

Being a composer is your job. You’re often called a perfume-composer, a perfume maker or even a perfumer and all of these are fine with you. It all explains the same thing; you use your nose to put scents together and create a perfume. You usually work with a tight schedule and precise requests, leaving you with generic projects. They involve what you call capitalist perfumes, targeted and produced for masses instead of harmony. Nowadays perfumes are for ‘suave’, ‘sexy’, ‘dynamic’ or even ‘active’ people. They’re best-sellers, perfumes you smell in the streets, shops, public transport, elevators. They’re repetitive and senseless. What used to be something exciting is now boring and dull. 

You’re even starting to be disgusted by some of your creations.

And it’s for a good reason. People do not buy perfume according to their own smell. It’s something that is barely exploited by the companies, the probability of not selling in mass too counterproductive to bother explaining why some perfumes are not suited to everyone. You see it in the stores, how vendors spray anyone willing to be perfumed. These places became a hotchpotch of scents and it gets to your nose so easily it hurts.

You are able to distinguish a lot of different scents, and this is your job. Mixing stuff, looking for new elements, blend oils, this is what you love about making perfume. Your sensitive nose had made you choose a career surrounded by a farandole of fragrances, and while it may sound like a horrible life, it was what had helped you survive the probability of a boring job surrounded by horrible coworkers. It’s a solace so unusual and mysterious that you can selfishly appreciate its beauty and complexity on your own.

But now, you find yourself doubting as you peak at your neat organ*, brown and rustic. You didn’t sign for tasteless nights and headaches.

Going to sleep is hard that night, when your brain can’t forget about this man and his scent, his oh so perfect scent which you have yet to put a finger on. You finally forget about him and your brain turns off, while another person is going back home, head heavy and mind lost.

Jungkook throws his bag on his table and goes on the floor, silent.

He wasn’t able to end his life, again.

__

It’s hard to believe that you are currently meeting with a famous brand directly. Most of the time, they would meet your managers and you’d have a project sent over your way, leaving you a mere two weeks to work on a foolish project with foolish requests. 

Today you are in shock though, because they are asking you what you want to do. It’s the first time you get asked about this and it frightens you, it scares the hell out of you when you suddenly have too much freedom. All ideas evaporate, like you have no taste and no dreams for a perfect perfume.

The woman’s stilettos make too much noise on the floor, and she speaks in a slow and irritating manner, like you’re too stupid to understand her request.  She comes closer and you smile, weakly. It’s a mix between pain and fear, it looks like she is about to eat you up. Maybe it is because you look like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m asking you about your plans concerning our next fragrance. You get that we want an Eau de Parfum, and not an Eau de Toilette, which means we need lasting scents. We have no guidelines, no themes, no requests, just a thirst for your creativity. You have what it takes to make it from scratch without us poking into your business- I mean, I'll be here to check on how it is going, of course.” She speaks words at an incredibly fast pace, with a tone deprived of any doubt.

All you feel is your boss’ stare, boring holes into your back; he knows what you’re going to answer. “I’m afraid we don’t work that way. How am I supposed to know what kind of product you need? Don’t you already have an advertisement sample to show me? A muse, somebody representing the brand?” You try the best you can, because now you have too many possibilities and it can’t happen. 

“We only have you and your talent, for now.”

Your boss walks up to you two and waves his hands “Not that we think you’re not worth our time, but we mostly work based on requests. We need a guideline.” He pleads, and his fake laugh nearly makes you scoff. 

But the woman is thick headed, and she points a finger at you, accusingly. “This person doesn’t need us in order to create a perfume. We’ve been following you for so long after your last fragrance won 1st rank in Vogue’s top 10 Perfume recommendations. You were not easy to find, though.” 

But you know, you know it wasn’t your own work, but simply something you were asked to do. “I’m sorry madam, but I simply did as I was told. Without this, I’m nothing.” You say and it sounds depreciatory concerning your own capacities but you don’t care. You are getting so scared right now that you’re ready to call yourself a scam in front of anyone.

The woman laughs and it looks like she can see through you “There is a thousand way to create a perfume with the same elements. You simply refuse to admit you’re a genius, but we both know you can’t waste your time beating yourself.” She adds and lets the contract fall on the glass table, stilettos beating the floor again and her expensive bag back on her shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” Your boss takes the contract and starts reading, but you just want to cry. You don’t want to do this, because you’re scared and afraid and you know you will fail. At the same time, you wanted this, you wanted to create on your own. You had thrown away so many samples until now, thinking it was useless. Now that somebody is asking for your true self, you back off. Your brain screams at you to stop being so contradictory and grasp that opportunity but you just feel numb and pressured and it’s enough to petrify you.

“I can’t. We can’t.” You mumble but your boss looks shocked, mouth agape and fingers gripping the contract.

“This is big, Y/N. Looks at this.” He says and you feel like fainting when you see the amount of money they are willing to pay. You know your boss will never refuse this and panic takes over.

Your shaky fingers almost tear the contract away “I’m going to fail; they will lose their time and the company will be ruined, you know it!”

But he knows better and smiles sweetly at you. “You’re always complaining about plain perfumes and cheap fragrances. You’re given a chance to compose on your own and I fully support you, so please tell me you’ll try, at least. We still have an observation period in case you can’t do it, okay?” you know he is not thinking about the money only, yet you hardly think he is thinking about your well-being either but you can’t refuse now, and you’re left with two pieces of paper and a lump in your throat as your boss goes out of the big office.

For the next couple of days it’s all you can think about, while your boss keeps on calling to make sure you’ll do it. You try to act rebellious a few times but to no avail; you end up agreeing because you don’t have the luxury nor the power to reject this offer.

You agree but deep inside you’re burning with fear. It’s not even exciting, it’s like a wide ocean, with no shores and huge waves. It’s suffocating.

The second time you meet the mysterious guy, he is at the same spot. He keeps on leaning against the bridge, and his whole existence looks like a misery but his smell makes you slow down again. It’s overwhelming, almost unbearable. There is no way a perfume can do that.

It’s a natural smell.

He doesn’t see you and you don’t see his face, but this is not even important right now. Your brain goes back and forth, and it’s a long journey to your past. This guy doesn’t even feel your presence and when you walk away, the feeling is gone, and you breathe again.

__

“I’m glad you decided to take this offer.” You’re just behind her. She is walking fast, passing halls after halls and you look around, unfamiliar with the smell. It’s like you’re entering the mafia because everyone bows like she owns the place. Only her smell lingers, suiting her perfectly.

Leather.

“As written in the contract, we will provide a lab and supplies. We can have everything you need, so feel free to ask.” She is bragging, and you know it’s her way of making you feel at ease but it’s even scarier. Obviously they are going to provide whatever you need. It's a big investment for little result.

“Oh, and I’ll introduce you to your assistant.” She turns around and winks at you.

“I- I have an assistant?” you stutter, it’s unreal. You don’t mind working alone- why would you even need someone to help?

“You’ll have an assistant, of course. You’re telling me you don’t have one at your company ?” You shake your head with power and she gasps “See? You don’t deserve to be treated this way.” She whispers and opens a door, white and shiny.

When you enter, the smell is strong with disinfectant. There’s no doubt they deep cleaned this place for the launching of a new product. The walls are grey, covered by old advertising pictures from the brand, the furniture seems brand new and there is a man. He looks around you age, with designer clothes and loafers. His hair is blond and he is wearing blue lenses. 

“You’re here already?” The woman asks and he nods, his plumps lips revealing shiny teeth. He looks so happy.

“I couldn’t miss it, not when you’re bringing a genius here.” He talks funny and walks with no hidden enthusiasm. He looks like he is out of a fashion show and it’s making you step back with apprehension.

“Good, I guess we can start with the introductions. Meet your assistant.” He offers a hand and his smile widens when you reciprocate the gesture.

He smells like your latest creation “I’m Park Jimin. Nice to meet you, boss.”

Boss. What the hell.

“Nice...to meet you too?” It sounds like a question, but it’s actually a plea. You don’t want to do this. 

“I’m so glad you agreed on working with us! It’s not easy to know who hides behind perfumes and it was hard to find you but we did !” He beams at the woman as she taps his shoulder, nodding.

“You found me ? How ?”

“I saw you at a launch product party.  When I heard it was you I was so happy. I’m a big fan.” He laughs and you feel even more burdened. The woman is looking at you two like a proud - and rich - mother 

“You’re wearing-”

“Yeah, it’s yours! Amazing, right? Oh, tell me if it suits me!” He lifts his head and offers you his neck, giggling. 

“Jasmine. You bring out the jasmine in it.” 

It’s true, Jasmine suits him.

He makes a weird noise before pointing a finger at the lady “I told you! She is a genius! It’s exactly why I bought it.” 

“Since you’re getting along pretty well, I’ll leave you in the hands of this young boy.” Her strong smell of musk stays behind her when she turns around and leaves the room.

“I’m such a big fan of you. You might find it weird, but I bought every single perfume you made. For study purposes, of course!” He is embarrassed but a second later, he is back to serious. “You don’t wear perfume.” He looks intrigued.

“It blurs my sense of smell.”

“Oh my god, this is exactly what a genius would say.” He shakes his head, amazed at your apparently smart answer and proceeds to show you around the lab, the explanations never ending.

The rest of the day is spent next to this guy, who knows every single person in the building. You keep on shaking hands, and soon, you’re exhausted. Jimin is chatting non-stop, offering you drinks and being a perfect assistant.

You discover he is still an apprentice in the perfume industry and is aiming to become a composer for the brand. He tells you he loves fashion, and this you noticed, but he also says something that triggers you.

I want to be like you 

You want to laugh at him for being such a fanboy, and you tell him numerous times that the perfumes you made are only things you were asked to create, that it wasn’t your own work, but he brushes you off, explaining you know nothing about your own skills. Jimin is the type of guy who loves to socialise, he has this way of communicating that makes everyone love him. The same day, you go back home with his phone number saved and a tone of messages from him about how excited he is to be working under your care.

On your way back home, you don’t see the guy.

__

Jungkook has plenty of time to think and he doesn’t like it. His apartment is silent and not even the cars passing by outside can ease the emptiness. He doesn’t dare look at the papers scattered on the floor. They are all creased, and the trash is full. He wants to crash the whole place; he wants to tear it to pieces. It’s infuriating, how everything is here for purpose and he has nothing to look forward to.

He can’t stand it anymore.

His phone rings but he ignores it. His best friend has been calling all day, and he knows he’ll receive a lot of nagging from him but he doesn’t care. 

Soon, nobody will have to deal with his abnormal self.

Maybe it was supposed to end like this, even though he has no idea when it actually started. All Jungkook knows is that at some point, he became useless. He used to be efficient, powerful. But now everything is dull. His eyes burn, his ears ring, his mouth is dry.

This is garbage. You’re not what you used to be. Where did your talent go ?

He can stand critiques; he knows the music industry and its perks but he can’t stand being belittled. He doesn’t want anyone to question his way of functioning but it was starting to get a bit too frequent for his taste.

He gets up and goes to his huge and sophisticated window.

He wants everything to stop.

__

“How did you end up being a perfume maker?” Jimin is swallowing his food, filling the whole lab with spiciness and you want him to go away.

“Give me the bergamot sample.” You open another small bottle and ignore his question, trying to focus on your task.

“You’ve been on this all day, have a break, boss.” He tries although his voice is muffled by all the food he is trying to swallow. You know he is right. You have absolutely no idea about what you’re doing, so you mix stuff in hope of a miracle. Nothing works, everything smells terrible, it’s disgusting even.

“Here, drink something, at least. Take your time.” He coos with a worried expression.

You sigh and rub your face, tired. “I can’t do this.” 

“I know, they gave you nothing. I’m here to help so don’t stay quiet and let’s think about this together. I know how they work, let’s take our time, no one is rushing you yet.”

You look at the scattered glass bottles and smelling strips. This is a mess.

Jimin asks you if you want to go to a party held by another luxury brand the same night but you refuse. He isn’t surprised when you tell him you hate going to these places. You’re not the type of person who likes to socialise, and your assistant understands but tells you that you have to go with him next time. You also refuse.

So you go back home. Your head hurts, your body is sore, and your brain is empty. The air is thick with humidity but you like how it resets your sense of smell, erasing all the stuff you’ve been smelling all day. 

The guy is here. He is leaning against the bridge again but something about him irks you. He is shivering. His smell slowly fills your nostrils as you approach him and you can’t help but notice that he is leaning against the barrier a bit too much. He sighs, again and again and when he leans even more to look at the river under the bridge, you stop walking.

You’re right behind him.

It’s true that you’re not into socialising, but you definitely recognise someone in pain. His smell makes you move on your own and before he can sigh some more, you find yourself next to him.

It’s even stronger now.

He isn’t surprised when he feels somebody next to him. He stays quiet and acts like he is alone but straightens his back like he was caught doing something wrong.

“Did you...lose something?” You ask, peeking at the river far under your feet. You know he didn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that it’s not the first time you see him here.

“No.” His answer is short and it allows you to finally take a good look at his face. His brown locks cup his face, from his shiny eyes to his round nose and pouty lips. He’d look cool if it wasn’t for his pitiful aura.

“Are you trying to...?” You begin but his eyes go wide and you both understand. He can’t hide it anymore. You don’t notice how blunt your words are but your brain is processing too many things to focus on your conversational skills.

“Can you...leave me alone?” his voice is low and the words are slow. He is almost pleading.

“I can’t. You’re about to do some serious shit right now.”

“I’m not. Go away.” He asks again and you can feel how annoyed he is now.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but I doubt you should be thinking about this.” He laughs at you and you regret trying to be such a smart-ass.

“How would you know? Just go, please.” He is irritated now, but you can’t let him do that. His smell works like a spell on you.

“I just do. Stop this. I’m not going anywhere until you go back to a safe place.”

“There is no such place. We don’t even know each other.” He is now looking at you with a bored expression.

“You must have a place to stay.” 

He sighs loudly and turns to you, looking exhausted “I don’t, I’m homeless. What are you going to do about it?” 

“Then come to my place.” You shrug and he makes a face. There is no way you just asked him to come to your place, right?

“You must be crazy.” He breathes but you shake your head. You can’t let this smell go to waste. Not when you don’t know what it is.

Your mind is screaming.

“I’m perfectly fine. If you’re going to do something stupid, I’ll call for help. If you don’t, then come to my place. I have enough room for two anyways.” You are really crazy.

“You’re a stranger. I might be some psycho running out there.”

“You’re none of that. Don’t try to make me back off.” He doesn’t smell like trouble. He smells like safety.

And he is crazier than you, because he agrees. His backpack is firmly hanging on his shoulder when he turns to face you once again.

“You’re not going to let me be.” Jungkook knows that at some point, he won’t get out of this. Now that you discovered what he is about to do, he won’t be in peace until you make sure he is safe, which is totally crazy. Serves him right for not even being good enough to leave peacefully.

“You...agreed?” 

“What, you changed your mind? Good, then I can-”

“No! it’s fine! I thought I was being too crazy, that’s all.” 

Jungkook nods. “This is crazy, but it can’t get any worse now.”

So you walk in front of him and toward your place. It is hard to think or talk with the smell right behind you, but you keep the game strong and walk proudly, like you just did something great. And you did, you’re bringing him home, when he was about to throw himself off the bridge. You don’t dare ask for more right now, because he might run away.

You open the door and Jungkook stops as soon as he enters the place.

It’s huge.

“There is a guest room but It’s full of my stuff. I’ll take it off tomorrow.” You say, taking off your coat.

“So I’m living here now?” Jungkook scoffs, hoping he is being sarcastic enough to make you give up on him.

“Why not? If you’re homeless, you can stay. I’ll note the door’s passcode on a piece of paper for you.  Also, here is the-”

“Wait, I’m not going to live with you.” 

“So where are you going to live? On this bridge?”

“I still have a flat until the end of the month, I lied. I thought you were crazy so I said whatever came to my mind.” He confesses, almost feeling guilty. 

You’re not mad, not at all. Because now your flat is full of his smell, and it makes your brain work again. You want to know what it is.

“Oh then you’ll be homeless by the end of the month. If you’re uncomfortable, you can pay for your room. I don’t mind.” You shrug and his mouth is wide opened now.

You are really insane. Really.

“This situation is beyond weird. I don’t even know you.” 

“And I don’t know you either, but you didn’t slaughter me yet so I guess we’re cool.” You’re being a bit too familiar but he doesn’t notice it, and simply walks deeper into your living-room.

Jungkook doesn’t know what is happening, but in a way, it’s not worse than his current situation. He wouldn’t be homeless; he would never be homeless but he prefers this rather than going back to the family house and admitting he failed. His best-friend is going to lecture him about how the music industry is full of drug addicts, and his parents, oh his parents.

His father would be too happy to prove his superiority.

His pride speaks for him “Okay, I agree. But I’m not staying for free.” He sits on the expensive couch and you know you’ve won this fight.

“Good. My name is Y/N. You are…?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He lets his head fall on the fluffy material and closes his eyes. He is exhausted. He needs some sleep.

“Nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook.” You speak like a robot, making him smile uncomfortably and mumble an answer. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so calm when he was about to do something horrible. Maybe he is going insane too. Maybe he has no idea what is going on in his life. 

“You can wander the flat, I don’t mind. I’m seriously spent so I’ll head to bed. The guest-room is right there and the bedding is clean, I think...ah, the bathroom is at the end of this hall. Knock if you need something.” You escape now, the scent is filling the place and it makes your brain go wild. You don’t need this right now. Or maybe you do and you’re scared he will vanish if you push your luck any further.

“Good night. If you escape I’m going to fight you.” You try to warn him but he simply nods, smiling apologetically. He makes an okay sign and you don’t know why, but you believe him. 

You forget about the probability of him being a scam, a thief, a killer or whoever could hurt you in your sleep. You just focus on the feeling, that one scent invading your olfactory bulb and exciting your axons.

You can’t sleep that night. Jungkook either.

He is thinking about a thousand things. He falls asleep at some point, body as exhausted as his brain. When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in the huge flat along with a sticky note, neat on the fridge.

Suit yourself, I’ll be back by 8 p.m.

Even in the middle of this movie-like situation, he can’t help but look around the rooms, staring at the paintings and furniture. The place is cuddly, calm and warm. He starts writing when he doesn’t find it in himself to question his life choices. The living-room is perfect for his plan and it doesn’t take long for him to fill numerous pages.

Inspiration is creeping and he can’t let it go.

___

*Organ : Refers to a unit of stepped shelving containing hundreds of bottles of raw materials. Arrangement is in a way to assist the perfumer in the creation and compounding of perfume compositions.

[spidercakes]

Have some type of AU where Peter and Tony have met online (although its never specified where), but when they choose to meet in person its a little um. Different, from the usual.

Warnings: (canon typical but Peter is 19) age difference, bondage, blindfolds, (sort of) anonymous sex, slightly under negotiated kink, 

*

Peter can’t believe he’s doing this, laying on a bed with his head and chest on the mattress and his ass up in the air. His hands aren’t tied down at the moment but he’s already managed to get the restraints on the bed so each cuff is sitting in the corner looking lonely. He might have gotten a little ahead of himself anyway if it were possible to cuff both his hands but also he doesn’t want to screw himself over if he has to like, go to the bathroom or something.

Or if he gets stood up, not that he wants to think of that at the moment. He doesn’t think Tony would anyway, there’s not a whole lot of reason to miss a booty call. He can’t help but be a little paranoid at the moment when he’s wearing nothing but a butt plug, a pink blindfold, and a pink collar. The cuffs are pink too, because he kind of has an obsession with the color. That’d been partially what started this whole thing, that and his taste in sex toys.

More accurately he has expensive taste in toys and a small wallet, not that he tells people that. But he’s managed to acquire a rather large collection over the last couple years with what he can spare here and there plus a few more expensive additions from Tony. Its not the kind of thing Peter would normally do but he’d indulged Tony too much pretty much right away and in his defense it paid off. It might have helped that the first thing Tony did was compliment the Batman poster he’d vandalized in the background of one of his pictures. He likes to think he’s funny and no one ever comments on the surroundings in his pictures, just his body, so it’d been something new.

That’s how Tony ended up seeing his collection, which is how he ended up adding to it, and how they ended up in regular communication. He shouldn’t be nervous after all the stuff he’s done with Tony anyway, but also none of that was in person. Its one thing filming yourself jerking off for someone and sending them a video, its another to actually sleep with them. But the difference makes Peter giddy as he waits.

It feels like forever but its probably only a couple minutes before Tony shows up, Peter had timed it like that on purpose because that’s what they talked about. Peter works not to wiggle in anticipation or nervousness as the door to the room opens and in theory it could be anybody. Its not lost on him, the danger he could be in but that’s all part of the fantasy. He’d always been a little ashamed of this fantasy of his, wanting to be used by a total stranger he’s never even met previous to the encounter, but Tony had reacted immediately well to it. Peter had warmed to him after that and when Tony sent what he’d do to him back Peter had gotten hard pretty fucking quick.

He’s hard now too, a little desperate to be touched but Tony hasn’t come closer yet. He can hear fabric sliding against fabric, presumably Tony taking his jacket off, but he doesn’t get much more than that at first. Once again he suppresses the urge to squirm around and he can’t tell if its some misguided pride or if its some desire to behave for Tony. Either way he manages to suppress the need to shift around uncomfortably in his spot as he listens for any kind of noise that’ll indicate what’s going on.

It takes a moment for the foot falls on the carpet but when Peter hears it he lets out a soft noise that thankfully goes unheard. Its not until a hand lands on his back that he jumps a little from the unexpected contact. “Okay?” a soft, deep voice asks. Peter recognizes it from the videos Tony has sent him and relaxes some.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shivering a little when Tony touches him again. He slides his hand down Peter’s back until he circles his hand around the back of Peter’s neck for a moment, pushing his head further into the mattress before letting go and sliding his hand back up Peter’s back and over his ass.

“Pretty little ass like that, you're begging to be fucked,” Tony murmurs, voice low and attractive. He gives Peter’s ass a sharp smack that makes him gasp slightly. He pulls away again but his touch reappears fast at his wrists. He lets Tony move his wrist the way he wants it, wrapping the cuff around it before closing it tightly. He can hear Tony walk around the bed as he makes his way to his other wrist, doing pretty much the same thing. He circles back, stopping in the middle of the bed before Peter feels the telltale feeling of someone crawling into bed. Tony feels at his ass when he reaches Peter, grabbing at his cheeks greedily as he spreads them apart.

When he lets go of Peter’s cheeks he starts toying with the plug and Peter moans softly and then a little louder as Tony pulls it out a little and back in. “That looks like a pretty big plug, baby,” Tony says. 

“I like to feel stretched out,” he admits, moaning as Tony pulls the plug out a little more this time before pushing it back in. Peter loves the feeling of being stretched out over the plug as Tony fucks him with it, moving it in and out of his hole quickly.

“Fuck, I bet you take cock real good,” Tony murmurs, running a hand up and down Peter’s ass. “Bet you’re still tight, too.”

“Fuck me and find out,” Peter tells him, getting antsy for it.

Tony laughs, pulling out the plug but leaving Peter empty long enough that he makes a disgruntled noise. “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he says, fingers swiping his hole a few times before he fucks his fingers into Peter. “Mmm, yeah you’re going to feel fucking amazing on my cock. You do this a lot, let strangers fuck your hole?” Tony asks.

He knows Peter has never done anything like this before, but he hasn’t filled Tony in on all the details of his sex life. Just the ones he thought Tony would find hot. He nods, “used to have a thing for hookup apps,” he says. Shortly after moving out of May’s he decided he liked his freedom and he liked that he had his own room with no risk of anyone walking in. He maybe abused that a little for awhile.

“So you’re a slut,” Tony states, not asks. Peter doesn’t expect the sharp feeling of arousal at that but his cock twitches anyway. “You like that, hmm? Being called a slut?” He nods because unexpected or not he likes the way it feels when Tony calls him that. Tony pulls his fingers out of Peter’s ass, “with a body like that I’m grateful you aren’t too picky about who fucks you.”

Peter moans, “please.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for but he knows he wants it bad.

“Desperate for it, aren’t you, baby?” Tony asks him, running a hand over his ass.

He nods, “please, Mr. Stark.” He knows Tony likes it, he’s pulled that on him before and it always goes well. This time it results in Tony leaning over his back and curling a hand around his neck, pinning him harshly to the bed as he grinds into Peter’s ass. His cock is hard and Peter moans just feeling it through what feels like dress pants.

Tony lets up for a moment, just long enough to unzip his pants and pull himself out Peter is hoping, but when he leans back in he gets his answer. Tony presses into him almost roughly, hand on Peter’s hip to steady himself as he fucks into him. Tony’s cock is thick and Peter moans as he feels himself stretch over it, and he can’t help the small noise of pleasure he lets out as he feels Tony throb inside him.

“That’s right, take my cock,” Tony tells him. “Pretty little slut, you’re going to love this,” he adds, fucking into Peter faster. Tony leans forward, pressing a hand into his back and pushing him into the mattress as he moans. “You feel fucking amazing,” Tony says, “so damn tight.”

Peter relaxes fully and lets Tony fuck him however he wants, taking what he needs from his hole. Tony fucks him fast and rough, clearly after his own pleasure and it makes Peter’s cock twitch, thinking about Tony fucking his hole for his own pleasure. He doesn’t mind when Tony fucks him harder, easing up on his back for a moment before Tony moves his hand into Peter’s hair. He grips the strands tight and Peter isn’t expecting the extra weight added to it as Tony forces his head further into the mattress but it results in him squirming.

“‘M’gunna cum,” he says, gasping harshly as Tony fucks him hard. “Oh my god I’m gunna cum!”

“Like being used like that, don’t you baby? Like knowing that your tight little hole makes my cock feel good?” Tony asks, sounding a little breathless. 

“Yes!” Peter says enthusiastically. “Yes please, m’so close Mr. Stark.”

Tony stammers in his rhythm and Peter makes a disgruntled noise. “Fuck, you’re a hot little tease, aren’t you? Keep that up and I’ll cum inside you,” Tony tells him, fingers in his hair tightening for a moment.

“Cum in me,” Peter tells him, “fuck, please Mr. Stark I need it please.”

Tony swears loudly and fucks into him faster, “that what you want baby, you want me to cum inside you?”

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter says, voice almost whining but he can’t help it.

If Tony minds he doesn’t say anything, he just presses Peter’s head a little further into the mattress and fucks into him hard. “Gunna cum,” Tony tells him, “fuck, you’re good.”

Peter doesn’t expect to cum at that but he does, moaning loudly as his toes curl. He pants harshly, having a hard time catching his breath as Tony fucks into him. Tony cums too, fucking into him deep as he moans.

*

Peter is sitting in his desk chair spinning around aimlessly when his phone vibrates. He picks it up idly, spinning around in his chair again as he looks at who text him. He grins when he sees Tony’s name.

How are you doing baby?

He’d been worried that Tony would lose interest after their little encounter but he hasn’t. If anything he’s more interested than he was before. Peter bites his lip and texts back.

Would be better with you inside me ;)

[ihavelovednone]

Emily & Miguel: Power & control

This post is long - REALLY LONG. I’ve tried to reduce it and separate it - but it’s not really working. So here goes. It’s centered around Emily and Miguel and the power imbalance between them and the abusiveness that he displays. I hope it’s somewhat interesting and not to hard to follow - if you read it in full that is.

The initial power imbalance There are several aspects in Miguel’s and Emily’s relationship that creates a power imbalance between them. First, and probably the one that relates to every other imbalance in their relationship, is the fact that she’s a woman. That doesn’t really need any further explaining. Women are generally seen as the weaker sex and there’s a long since decided role for women that still has deep roots in our society and in Emily’s life it’s very prominent. Dita displays dislike about Emily involving herself in the search for her child for instance. Devante uses a tone that reeks of aw, little girl and Miguel is somewhere in between wanting to be the sole provider and wanting her help.

One more obvious thing is the clear age difference between Miguel and Emily. It’s kinda like a spinn on the stereotypical old husband, young wife trope - except that Miguel, even though he’s no spring chicken, is still relatively young and very attractive. Kurt Sutter and Elgin James are so subtle in the way they decide use a stereotype without stereotyping that if you don’t look closely, you miss it. 

I think they met when Emily was in her final years of college or in law school and Miguel was in the start of his business career - the legal business that is. I have this idea in my head that Miguel tried really hard to impress her and she just rolled her eyes at him. Emily’s smart and strong, opinionated and a fighter, we’ve seen that in season 1 when Emily’s delivered info to Miguel about LO, called Devante out on his misogynistic shit and when she didn’t let herself get intimidated by Potter. She also found the info about the murder of EZ’s mother and called out Miguel’s hypocrisy in season 2. 

At the same time there’s an insecurity within Emily. She’s probably been told several times by her parents that she’s not good enough. When Emily meets Miguel the break-up from EZ is probably still lingering, even if it was awhile ago they ended in a way that never really gave them closure - she didn’t just loose her first love, she lost someone that was a security to her. On top of that she’d lost her baby (yes I say lost because I don’t think she’d have aborted it had the circumstances been different). This probably made Emily more susceptible to Miguel’s charm.

That insecurity is very apparent in season 2 when Miguel starts spending more time with Adelita. He used to worship the ground she walked on, she was his “touchstone” and all of a sudden his work is all about taking Potter down with the help of Adelita and Emily ends up being in the background. There’s a desperation in her actions in that season. She enters territories she’d never actually enter otherwise. She’s so desperate for the Agra Park thing to work because she never chose the cartel, she chose Miguel. 

There’s also a duality with Emily in season 2 - The cartel is, up until the kidnapping of Cristobal, in the background of Emily’s life. She didn’t see, she didn’t hear.  I think she stayed with Miguel in the hopes that he’d liquidate the cartel and go one hundred percent legit but now, he’s rising - he’s making more money and Emily’s spurring him on. Maybe because she wants to be more involved with him, close to him, move Adelita out of the way. She wants to feel needed. It’s a weird dynamic between them, like the abused wife that wants to please her man or something.

Never in control Miguel might’ve initially been a person she found to be what EZ once was - a safe harbor, a home, a lifeline. Not necessarily financial, more emotional. Emily sees Miguels way of treating her with loving words and gifts as affection, maybe she knows that there’s something else under the beautiful exterior, maybe she doesn’t. As Erin said, they choose men that are darkness personified, hinting that they seek it out, it comes naturally - almost as a way to punish themselves for not being good enough. Miguel’s affectionate behavior bleeds into darkness, or maybe his affectionate behavior is actually something sinister altogether - like he feeds on women wanting him, needing him, he uses it to get to them.

In the midst of her vulnerability Miguel displays behaviors of wanting for her to belong to him and no one else, and that’s dangerous and toxic. She doesn’t realize that behavior as problematic until season 2 - even though it starts in season 1 when he propagates to EZ that he need to leave Emily alone - because it complicates things. 

Emily’s very isolated. She has no friends, she’s got no one that’s just hers. Except for EZ when he gets out of prison, and even so, they’re not really friends either. They’re more in limbo than anything. And even though they’ve got a past - she’s got the right to spend time with whoever she wants. Or should have the right. Loyalty to a man does not derive from how few men you’re in contact with as a woman. Emily doesn’t need to go back to her man, or only stay by his side. She’s not Miguel’s property. She’s allowed to have relationships with other men - as long as she’s not actually cheating - and even if she wanted to - she’s could, it doesn’t warrant abuse of any kind.

His want for her to be a housewife - or work close by, offering her a job in his company - is toxic. Why? Well, she’s constantly under his watch, she’s doesn’t have the opportunity to make new acquaintances and friendships without those people having relations to Miguel. If Miguel were to demand information about what a person has spoken to his wife about - they’d tell him - in fear of loosing their job, or their life. Now, had Miguel not displayed other types of weird and controlling behaviors it probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind that she worked for him. It would’ve been fine.

Him having her ride with a platoon and not be left alone is, yeah, you guessed it: TOXIC. Freedom is not something that she has. You might think that Emily, just because she lives in an ocean of money and opportunity that she’s somehow free. She’s not. She has no privacy. And yeah, you could argue that Miguel’s cartel work is dangerous and therefore she needs to be protected - but at what cost? She’s constantly under the watchful eye of Miguel’s lackeys - which becomes more apparent in season 2 when Nestor’s following her every move without her knowing. They work for him - they abide to him. She doesn’t have the ability to do what ever she wants - and when she does, he abuses her, as seen in S01E05. As I said in a post that’s been deleted now: Miguel is, most of the time, abusive without actually doing it himself. He uses his staff to control her.

We’ve never actually seen Miguel give Emily any presents, probably because it’d be very stereotypical of him and Sutter and James want to avoid stereotypes. But I think he’d do something like that, considering his expensive taste in suits, cars and other things - I think he likes showing of how rich he is. 

Miguel comes of as one of those people who’d use presents to stifle someone. The wife’s mad? Get her a meaningless expensive present to shut her up and simultaneously tell her you care for her without actually asking how she’s feeling. She thinks you don’t love her? Diamonds, get her some diamonds. Diamond equals love. Him throwing all kinds of materialistic shit at her is toxic and it doesn’t matter how much he loves her because his behavior ends up being manipulative and controlling every single time. 

The comment you should be grateful feels like something that’d come out of his mouth to (and probably from people on the outside looking in). Not that many women get to live a life in luxury, he’d probably say. Like she should be grateful for something she never really asked for. 

Conclusion This became a long post - probably longer than all my posts so far - combined. There are so many red flags with Miguel and Emily - some of them so subtle you hardly notice them. In the first episode I thought they’d go the whole sugar daddy route which might seem cool and fun in theory. But it’s in fact a very common way for young women to enter prostitution so I’m glad they didn’t go that way with it and display it like it’s no big deal - it’s all fun, look at all the pretty things I get for being a companion. 

Miguel’s abusive behavior is subtle at times and yeah, he loves her and she love him, but it doesn’t matter when the relationship is so unhealthy. Writing this piece has given me a new perspective of the two as well. Emily’s desperate to not loose Miguel - why? Most likely because she’d be on her own otherwise and she’s not really ready for that and Miguel’s behavior is probably something he’s picked up from his childhood and I’m not sure he’s always aware of it. Miguel very insecure. Let’s be honest, no man comfortable within himself would ever restrain a woman’s social circle, career or freedom to roam. 

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Finding Home

A/N: AAH I am so sorry this took so long to update!! And for anyone who didn’t understand the last update it was sorta Snapchat update and once again my beta for this was @bookwyrminspiration

Word count: 3607

Chapter 4: Change of Plans

There was a feeling of freedom that he used to feel every day. Tam missed that feeling as he dragged his sleepy body through the halls of Foxfire. He wanted to laugh. Why, in any world, was he here? He had been outlawed once before, seemingly too dangerous for them. And now here he was, spending day after day teaching children who didn’t understand how wrong their ways were; how to use the gifts they neglected for so long.

“Sir! Sir, is this how you do it?” a kid in the back asked as he floated a few inches in the air. He wobbled as he got higher and tilted from side to side trying not to lose his progress. Tam looked over in approval; he smiled a small smile, and the kid broke out in a grin.  

By the time the bell sounded with a shrill most of the kids had figured out how to float a few inches. Just a normal day, he thought as the next swarm of children came loudly into the clearing.

-

It had been a day since Sophie had gotten Linh’s number, and it had been five hours since the last time Linh texted her. She was using every bit of her self-control to not spam random comments about her classes that were so blatantly desperate cries for attention. Sophie wouldn’t be a clingy girlfriend. That wasn’t her personality. Right?

She wasn’t able to resist the urges that pulled her eyes to her phone screen or the corner of her laptop, begging for a notification to pop up. Quantum Physics was the one class she could actually pay attention to, something she was interested in to get her mind off of the girl who was probably busy working. With many glares and smacks on the arm, Amy drilled it into her head that Linh was “just busy” and Sophie herself had “done nothing wrong.” Sophie doubted both of these but played along for her sister’s sanity.

“What if her feelings have changed?” she asked at lunch, anxiously tapping her finger on the plastic table. Amy raised her eyebrow and looked seconds from dropping her head in her cheese fries.

“Then she’ll get the reward for the fastest change of heart, it’s been three days,” she said and rolled her eyes.

“My relationship with Fitz lasted for like three weeks,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. It was roughly true; even with her perfect memory, days and nights back then ran together making exact times hard to determine.

“That doesn’t count, you guys weren’t technically dating,” Amy brushed off as she slurped the last of her shake. “Plus, she wrote you a note, that’s pretty serious.” Sophie shrugged and tried not to reach for her phone again.

-

“I miss running,” Linh said, staring at her plate. They had been eating dinner, some new recipe that Biana had introduced Linh too. It tasted a bit bland but Tam really couldn’t care about the taste;  he was too busy replaying Linh’s words. Running had been the worst years of his life. Trying to find places to stay, not knowing if he could find food, knowing that the next day would be even more brutal. “I know what you’re thinking,” Linh said with a sigh. He made a noise in response.

“I don’t mean the life or death stuff, that was horrible. I mean like the times that we found that river? Or that field with hundreds of dragonflies! And when the gnomes taught us how to bake and how to make our own clothes! I miss that! I miss it being an adventure,” she said, longing clinging to her words.

He scoffed, “Only you would see it as an adventure.”

“It was more of one than Foxfire will ever be for us.” He couldn’t deny that. The kids didn’t quite need him, and honestly, he felt too young to be teaching them. Never going to the upper levels made his oldest class only a year younger than him, even if he was ages more mature.

Linh studied her plate. “We’re too young for this. For the war we’ve been through. To be teaching children how to fight because the leaders of our world are scared. We need time to grow up.”

That was when he finally got it. “This is about Sophie leaving.”

“It is not!” she shouted. He shook his head, getting up.

“Look,” he said as he started stacking their plates. “I know you two had this weird suppressed emotions thingy that you never talked about, but seriously, it’s been a year since she left.”

Linh sighed. “I miss her but I promise this isn’t about her. I just can’t seem to walk into those halls and teach those kids and not feel like an imposter. Maybe we just don’t belong here, and we’ve never tried belonging in the Forbidden Cities.” Linh was asking for a lot, but by the look on her face, she knew it. He understood what she was saying. He didn’t seem to fit in around the others, and that was okay. He wasn’t supposed to fit. But honestly, he hadn’t talked to the rest of the group in months, and his students were only there for past mistakes, past fears. Mistakes that weren’t his. What did he have to lose?

He stared her in the eye and nodded. “Okay.”

Packing was simple; he still had his old duffle. Dex gave them a harddrive identical to Sophie’s and stole a leaping crystal from the Council for them. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” he said with a wink. He was the only one they told; it was easier that way. That way once they were gone Dex could simply say they’d left and reassure everyone that they weren’t dead.

The night they chose was cold, very cold. Snow fell around them in slow motion. It covered the hills, the house, the bushes, everything. The only thing colder than the snow was the icy determination on her face, but he knew underneath she was ecstatic. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the small crystal, Here we go, he thought. This was no time for going back, for second thoughts, for last-minute grabs. This was Tam, this was the way he made the decision to follow his sister because he didn’t have second thoughts when it was Linh.

-

Linh picked her up from school, making her heart skip a beat and anxiety settle itself into a solid in her stomach. A huge grin, bright eyes, and a beanie holding her chaotic hair in place greeted her. The sun’s rays fell in her eyes as she jogged blindly to the dirty white truck. “Didn’t take you for the truck type,” Sophie remarked as she reached Linh.

“It’s actually Chris’s—my boss—he thought picking up my girlfriend was a valid enough reason to take the afternoon off and use his truck. Especially since I got Beth to take my shift,” she threw a smirk over her shoulder and crossed to the driver’s side.

Sophie switched the music twelve times until Linh grabbed her hand to stop her. She focused on the warmth of the hand covering hers to distract herself from the thoughts in the back of her mind, questions that wouldn’t go away, but if she asked them they would sound ridiculous. Linh didn’t need to know about the crazy anxiety underneath. Not yet, not for a while, so Sophie focused on Linh’s hand, her callouses, the lines, her fingers laced between Sophie’s.

“So do I call you Amilia?” Linh asked through the crippling silence.

That made her think. At home, she could be Sophie, and in her head, she was Sophie, sometimes to Amy she was Sophie. To the rest of the world she was Amilia, but maybe it would make sense for Linh to know her how she always had. Shaking her head she responded, “No, to you, I don’t think I’ll ever really be Amilia.”

That was that, Linh only nodded and started dancing to the song that was playing. Sophie watched her and laughed, singing along in her own horrible voice, and forgetting about the emotions that had risen with her own words.

The afternoon carried on, window shopping and debating if frozen custard was better than ice cream. Half the time Sophie’s face was burning and her heart almost beat its way out of her chest every time Linh laughed. It was normal, completely and utterly normal. If it was a movie Sophie would’ve fallen asleep and Amy would’ve been acting like the action had only just begun. Part of her mind wanted to know if Amy had ever felt like this. Part of her wanted to know if the feeling ever went away.

-

“What is this place?” Tam asked her. There were hundreds of towering buildings staring down at them, watching. The glass, the lights, the cameras on street corners and shops; it was overwhelming. On the other hand, Linh looked completely in her element. She looked like herself for the first time. He still resisted the urge to put himself in front of her and this new world. This wasn’t his place, but it was Linh’s and because of that he would make it.

“It’s called Denver,” she responded, and there was a look in her eyes that Tam didn’t like.

He didn’t like any of this. “Come on dear brother, Dex gave us the address for a ‘hotel’ to stay in.” The look on her face suggested that there was more to do than just find the hotel.

They headed west, trying to tell the building apart from the others. Tower after tower went by and crowds of people trapped them. Swarmed on every side, talking, moving, crashing into one another. Colors, sounds, shapes, things he had never seen. It took everything in him not to jump every time a person bumped him, to not take a friendly smile as a threat. This, this is what he'll always remember of running. How when they got to the dwarven cities he clutched Linh's hand just to know she was still there. When their parents kicked them out and everyone they knew suddenly turned against them. He'll always remember the blood pounding in his ears, the buzz of his veins, the thoughts like arrows in his head.

His throat went dry, and his voice broke when he spoke, "Linh, Linh I don't like this."

"Come on, it's not far!" She didn't even look back. So Tam kept going even as his mind began to scream danger and begged to turn back. She needs this, Tam thought.

But why? a part of him asked, and he quickly tuned it out. He didn't have second thoughts with Linh.

-

They pulled into the apartment complex as the sun started to set below the city line. Sophie laughed when Linh ended up getting lost three times. She didn’t say that she knew it was on purpose. She didn’t say that she, too, wasn’t ready for the night to end. Only laughed and gave her the right directions again and again.

The big black numbers on the side of her building came into view and for a split second she thought about not pointing them out, but Linh had already seen them. The steering wheel turned too fast for Sophie’s liking as they pulled into a parking spot next to the stairs. Doors shut softly in the dark silence of the night, and the stairs seemed shorter than she remembered. She wished there was a way to slow down time to make this moment at her door last a bit longer just so she could look at Linh one more time.

“So, I guess this is it,” Linh said softly, barely audible over the wind.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Sophie looked up at her eyes, they were bright in the dark of night. They glistened and held something behind them like she was waiting for permission. It gave Sophie a burst of confidence and she asked, “Or you could stay the night?”

Linh’s eyes widened and for a beautiful, heart-stopping second Sophie thought she would say yes. She laughed nervously and said, “I think that there’s an unspoken rule about not staying the night after a first date.”

Sophie opened her mouth to respond when the door swung open loudly behind her to reveal Amy in fuzzy socks and some form of mismatched pajamas. “Yes! There is! It’s called: Sibling Gossip Time so get-“ Amy said hurriedly and out of breath.

“Amy!” Sophie exclaimed, Amy only rolled her eyes. “I am so sorry about her, but yeah she’ll probably kill me if she doesn’t get an update. Tam would probably be worried if you didn't come home, I'd rather he not kill me." For a moment Sophie thought that Linh’s eyes widened in surprise, thrown off by the mention of Tam. She pushed the thought out of her head trying not to think what it meant.

With an easy smile, Linh pecked her on the cheek, momentarily freezing Sophie’s brain, and gave a small wave to Amy and made her way down the stairs. Sophie could only stare after, words in her throat but not getting any farther.

-

A month later, they had found a place to stay outside of hotels and motels. Tam was able to find a job at a grocery store while Linh worked afternoons at a restaurant down the street. The moon was high in the sky and Tam was finally falling asleep when Linh stumbled through the door. A small crashing sound followed the door closing. "Linh?" he called out hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

A ray of light revealed her disheveled face. Makeup ran down her cheeks and her hair was disheveled. "Clearly not," she said, a bite in her words.

"What happened to you?" he asked, throwing off the covers.

"Go back to bed."

Tam stared at her, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, "No I'm not leaving you alone."

"I’m telling you to leave me alone. I am fine."

"Did I do something?"

Linh groaned. “Well yeah, you weren’t supposed to see this.

“But I did, now what?”

Linh whirled on him, “Now, you stop asking questions and forget about it, got it? I don’t need your help.”

Her nostrils flared and she stared at him with a fury he’d seen before but always directed at other people; for once he was scared of his baby sister. He had so many more questions and concerns but he’d never seen her so angry before, so reckless. For once he was scared of what she’d do. “Okay,” he said simply. He wished he hadn’t.

The moment the door closed Amy dragged her to the couch and forcibly sat Sophie down. “Tell me everything,” Amy said, eyes narrowing.

“Well she picked me up from school,” Sophie started, trying not to laugh.

“Well yeah; I already knew that but it does give her some bonuses for being classic,” Amy nodded.

Sophie halted, staring at her sister quizzically. "I'm sorry are you testing my girlfriend?"

"Oh sweetie, what else did you expect me to do?"

"Be normal?" Sophie raised her eyebrow, but Amy only laughed. So, Sophie continued and recollected the night. Only a few times Amy butted in with comments.

When she finished Amy hesitated and asked, “Did you guys talk about Tam at all?”

Startled, Sophie said, “No, why?”

A look crossed Amy’s face that she didn’t quite like, “I just think you should ask her about him.”

And that was that; Tam didn’t get brought up, and neither did Linh. Shoveling oven pizza in their mouths in between words, Amy hopped from topic to topic like their conversation never happened. Avoidance, Sophie knew the strategy all too well; she played along anyway. It was easier that way.

-

Linh wasn't talking to him. No matter how many times he tried, through notes, through shadows, through everything he could think of. She pretended he didn't exist, spending nights out more often or avoiding him completely when they ended up home together. Tam was lost. This was who they were, they didn't fight, they tried not to argue, and when they did Linh always came to him to talk it out. That's what he did. He waited for her to come to him.

He took as many shifts as he could, some days he watched the sunrise and set through the dirty glass. He didn't talk to coworkers as much as they tried, he didn't need new attachments. It happened slowly, realizing that he didn't see Linh anymore. She was either out doing something when he got home or passed out on the couch. Tam didn't know how he could help if she wouldn't let him.

The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't sleeping. At night he started to pretend to be asleep and see if she would get up. Every night, after thirty minutes of laying there, she'd get up and go out. She didn't sleep, the bags under her eyes grew. So did the hole in his stomach.

Then she stopped coming home at all. She'd leave a note saying she was gone, at this party or another, taking one more shift so they could pay for rent. There was always a reason. The only sign of his sister was the laundry basket that would sometimes appear by the door while he slept.

"Where's my work clothes dammit!" It was the first time she spoke to him in two weeks.

"What?" Tam asked the air, still bewildered by the fact that she was talking.

"My work clothes! I've gotta take Wyatt's shift and mine tonight which means I'll be like the only person there and I need my work clothes! Wyatt's gonna kill me if I'm late I can’t be demoted- they were right here I swear!" she threw up her hands and paced.

"Calm down calm down-"

"Don't you tell me to calm down-"

"Oh, I'm sorry the first time you've talked to me you're losing your shit over something simple-"

"Well I for one would like to pay for rent and I need my freaking work clothes to do it!" she glared at him with fury he hadn't seen before.

"Well if you actually talked to me you'd realize I got promoted so you don't need to worry about rent right now!" Tam yelled back, throwing his arms out.

"I'm not talking to you? I never see you to talk to you anymore!"

"That’s because you're always out making some other mistake that I am not going to join in on!"

"This would've never happened if you just stayed HOME!" she yelled and her voice cracked a bit, "You were happy doing the same damn thing over and over again. You would've thrived there."

"You asked me to come, you asked me for Sophie, for adventure. I said yes because I didn't want to fix our world's problems but this isn't better," Tam’s eyebrows furrowed and his tone implored.

"Yeah well, maybe you should just go home because clearly being here isn't doing anything for you. I should've never told you I was leaving, that was my only mistake," she said her voice calm.

Somehow that hurt more than when she was yelling. Linh gave him a final, pitying look before she closed the door behind her with a final slam.

The door closed, and he could hear her feet receding and he made his decision. He didn’t belong here, but maybe Linh did, and he had to trust she’d be okay without him.

-

Laying alone in her bed Sophie studied the ceiling. Why hadn’t Linh talked about Tam? Or at least mentioned him? She tried not to think about it. It wasn’t her business anyway. Why would she hide it though? her brain asked.

Sophie could think of a thousand reasons.

But what if she doesn’t trust you?

Chilling air brushed against her toes and she pulled them back under the fluffy blanket and curled herself in a ball. The fan on the ceiling still made noise every time she turned it on, a soft, tick, tick, tick. The wind was loud. Her distrust was louder. It ticked through her thoughts as she drifted, still, she couldn’t shake the cold dread coming over her.

-

Tam left. He cleaned up his stuff, washing his clothes in the meager washer and dryer and throwing them into a duffle bag. By the time the moon had risen he was all packed. He grabbed the elven crystal from under his pillow and held it up to the moon. With a flash, he was back in the clearing they had left in a half a year earlier. This time, Fitz was standing there, startled like a scared deer, staring at him like he had seen a ghost.

"Dex said you weren’t coming back," Fitz finally said barely above a whisper.

"Plans change," Tam said simply. "Where are you going?"

"Following your lead I guess, hoping I last a bit longer," he responded, staring at the crystal in his hand. There was a look in his eyes that Tam wanted to understand and in a split second of impulsiveness, he made a decision.

"Mind if I hitch a ride?" he asked, Fitz gave him a crooked smile.

"Thought you'd never ask."

-

Finally, drifting off, Sophie’s mind was still on Linh, on Tam. Questions that she didn’t know how to ask. Without her control, her mind searched for them. That night, her dreams were filled with memories that were not hers.

[adulttrio-imagines]

190. “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.”  With Hisoka haha

 This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It’s not love we don’t wish to fall into, but that fear. this word is not enough but it will have to do

- Margaret Atwood

The taste of bile lingers at the back of your throat, even after you down your second can of lemonade. It burns, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste on your mouth, no matter how much lemonade you try to force down. You sigh for the umpteenth time, the alcohol pounding on your head as the world spins, blurring into hundreds of colorful splotches as you curse yourself once again for your lack of self-control. Hisoka sits beside you, serenely sipping on a bottle of champagne he nicked from the party as you both overlook the small hill.

You sneak a glance at him, stomach fluttering for reasons beyond the alcohol as you trace the high peak of his nose to the curve of his lips. He was an enigma, representing everything you couldn’t understand. From his colorful attire to his oddly painted yet attractive face, he stood at the top of an existence that was beyond your comprehension, a sense of freedom and purpose that drove you to him like flies to honey, running in circles to understand the meaning in the world he seeks. You should have been mad at him for turning up at the event unannounced, making a fool of the both of you, causing a ruckus and gotten you both kicked out, though not before inciting a mass panic. But, for some stupid, inexplicable reason, you just couldn’t. You bitterly dump the empty can right next to the pair of heels you had carelessly thrown off, quietly cursing when it bounces off and rolls down the hill.

“I did tell you not to drink too much, darling. Now look where you got us.” The magician sings, looking very much like a cat who stole a prized canary under its owner’s nose, tugging a few wayward strands of hair behind the crook of your ear as you sulk, the places his fingers brush tingling long after you push them away. His voice is light and airy, they remind you of wind chimes in the summer, easily carried by the afternoon wind. You don’t appreciate how condescending he sounds but struggle to hide the smile in your voice.

“Says you. You stole a whole bottle of champagne, you’re probably worst off than I am.” It’s a lie. It’s an unusually warm Octobers night, and your bones creak with a familiar sense of exhaustion as you feel your consciousness slip between cracks.

Hisoka hums, pale cheeks appearing more flushed than usual; you force yourself not to stare at the pair of high cheekbones that have always intrigued you. “Maybe, but at least I don’t deny it.”

You try to punch him in the shoulder; you trust your physical capabilities as a hunter, but even alcohol intoxication remains a threat to you, and in your current inebriated state, miss him completely, and almost fall forward from the momentum. Faster than you can think, he grabs you by the shoulders, steadying you back into an upright position, smile never leaving his face as the heat at the back of your neck slowly creeps up your cheeks.

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.” You finally admit, wrapping your arms around yourself after brushing his hands away (you miss the way he narrows his eyes), denying that slight twinge of happiness you felt when he reached out to grab you. It burns where he held you, and fills you with conflicting thoughts. 

His smile doesn’t falter but you see a malicious glint in his eyes.

For a moment, everything remained upright, but a sudden shove from your back upends the delicate balance you had tried desperate to remain. You scream, toppling over, but not before grabbing his arm and dragging him along with you, gleefully squealing as you both roll haphazardly down the hill, landing clumsily at the base in a tangled mess of limbs. 

“That wasn’t fair.” You struggle to contain your laughter at his childish whining, he’s immature tone not at all suiting his larger than life build.

“Well, you started it.” You throw a fistful of grass at him, rolling your eyes and bursting into laughter as he pouts, tuffs of grass mixing in with the fiery orange of his hair. You collapse into the grass, the earliest of dew drops soaking into your clothes, the grass stains would be a pain to clean up, but being drunk off copious amounts of alcohol under such a calm night, you release a contented and stretch into a more comfortable position.

Hisoka huffs from his spot, a tick of annoyance radiating off him in waves, the few remaining blades of grass hanging mockingly to his shirt, but he crawls over to you, eyes dripping with mischief. Before you can process anything, he drops all of his six foot three inch glory into your lap, knocking the air out of you, face twisting into a cheeky smile as you struggle to escape his hold.

“Hisoka-! Get-get off, me!” You splutter, trying to shove him off the best you can with what little coordination you have left. He grins lazily at you instead, reclining into you in such a way that his head rested in between both of your breast, making sure he could see your struggled expression from any angle. If it wasn’t for his literal weight on your being, the act itself would have sent you careening off into the moon from embarrassment.

“Nah, I think this is just too comfortable. Also consider this payment for making me wait for you.” He hums, purposefully burying deeper into your chest, and you curse your past self for buying a dress with such thin fabric that each movement he made tickled the sensitive skin of your breast.

“I can’t breathe!” You protest, wriggling desperately under him, but you suspect he had bungee gummed himself to you, and not for the first time, curse his nen ability.

“Oh? Hmm..?” His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you would have lashed out to punch him square in the jaw if your arms weren’t plastered to the ground. He rests his chin on his hands, elbows digging into your stomach as he pretends to think about the issue for a moment, ignoring your continual struggle beneath him, “Nope, I don’t think I care.” He shoots you a Cheshire smile, boops your nose and flops right back down on you. 

You groan in defeat, throwing your head back against the grass, the fresh dirt pillowing the force. It’s difficult but you try your best to ignore how sweet he smelled, or how warm he felt spread on top of you, or how your nose tingled at his touch, praying that the darkness of the night hid your steadily reddening face. 

“Fine,” you huff, shooting him a dirty look. “I guess I’ll just choke on my own puke and die here then- Woah!” 

Strong pair of arms grab you on either side, one firmly holding you close while the other gently supports the back of your head. Too shocked from the sudden change, you can only whelp as he rolls backwards, sending dandelion seeds floating off into the night sky as he lands on his back, reversing your previous position where you now lie helplessly on top of him with your head resting right below the dip between his collar bones, perfect for hearing the steady beat from his chest that is so starkly contrast your own rapidly beating heart. 

“We can’t have that, can’t we, sweet thing? I can’t lose you that fast.” Hisoka chuckles at your reaction somewhere above you, his right arm straddling you feeling very pleasant against the skin as he grips your thigh while his left thumb runs smooth circles over your knuckles, and your alcohol-induced mind squishes any sort of logical restraint you usually would have had. His fingers are calloused and the texture surprise he pasted over them don’t hide the nicks and scars you feel beneath the flimsy barrier. He leans in closer still, breath hot down your neck. “The fun hasn’t even started yet.” 

“No. No. Not here.” You object, immediately sobering up, praying that he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was thumping right now as you push his arm away and start to get up, only to be held back by the incredulous look he shoots you that almost cracks your resolve as you fumble for an excuse, “too many bugs!”

He scoffs, clearly not convinced by your answer and you feel him tighten the grip on your fingers. “Are you afraid of some small insect?”

You run a hand through your already messy hair, shaking out the remaining remnants of streamers from the party, trying to ignore the very chiseled abs pressed against your thigh. “Yes. No. Well, it’s more like we don’t know what’s been here and I don’t want to get an infection, and-and….” 

You trail off, letting the frosty silence settle between the both of you. There were no illusions about the type of person Hisoka was. You slid off his chest, letting the darkness hide your face as you stared blankly into your hands. In the faint moonlight, it’s easy to forget with his charming smiles and playful wit that this was an indiscriminate murderer; who comfortably held lies at the tip of his tongue and could effortlessly crush a man’s skull with his bare hands, who snuffed the light out of many for simple fun, who reeked of blood and violence as he clambered insistently for your undivided attention, painting the walls in your house a gory red. You look at his hands, tracing the delicate tips of his nails to the high ridges of his knuckles, wondering if they would one day wrap themselves around your neck as well. 

He was a danger manifested in human form, a demon who held strength that shook the earth masquerading as a mortal, you knew exactly what he represented, but couldn’t stop yourself from crashing deeper and deeper into his magnetic vortex. You twist the stem, easily plucking the lone dandelion off, it’s a nice night, perhaps you should-

“Come. Lie with me.” You blink at the tone of his voice; it’s not a command, but a request. The words stay by me are left hanging precariously between the both of you. As if he senses your internal conflict, he gently tugs at your hand and after a moment of hesitation, your defenses are whittled to non-existence and you sigh but lay down next to him, breathing in a mixture of spiced liquor, sweet candy and wet grass, fingers still interlocked together as you both stare at the vast expanse of darkness that was the cloudless night sky stretched endlessly above your heads, with clusters of stars flickering brightly off into the distance, accompanied by a solitary half moon that acted as a weary guardian. They shine delicately, as if someone had painstakingly created each of them individually before carefully hanging them in unseen patterns, painting a canopy of ever dancing light. You begin to relax, enjoying the rare circle of comforting silence created solely for such a purpose, saying nothing as you stared at the vast multitude of stars sitting at the high heavens above, all too aware of his slow breathing, the heat radiating from his bare arm and the feeling of your hand in his.

“Do you know what that constellation is called?” Hisoka says suddenly, lifting your joined hands to point at a small collection of stars somewhere off to the left.

“Uhm… is it Ursa Minor?” You guess, the urge to slide your hand off his fighting your urge to hold them closer, instead you cock your head to the side. 

He laughs, and under the faint moonlight his expression is soft (it shines brighter than anything you’ve ever seen) and he dons a surprisingly boyish grin on his face (you didn’t know that devils could smile like that), looking years younger and resembling an unruly teenager more than the wild being he existed as now. “No, but close. That’s Cassiopeia. Now, that is Ursa Minor.” He answers, pointing at another group of stars at the right. 

“What? They’re nowhere close to each other!” You rest your intertwined hands on your chest, (they weigh your down like anchors, dragging you all the way down to the depths of the ocean floor, chaining you) the warmth an unfamiliar but welcomed comfort. 

His smile is small (you heart crumbles to a million pieces, it hurts, hurts, hurts) and you have to fight to just smile back (you squeeze his hands tightly, wondering if he can feel how hard they’re shaking as you dig your fingers into the ground). He leans into you so that his head rested directly above yours. “It’s a good try. Here, how about this one?” He asks, pointing with his free hand.

“Hmm, is it the Big Dipper?” You return his smile with a grin of your own. (The cracks in your resolve deepen, fracturing off and collapsing into itself.) 

Is it really alright….

“Well, you’re somewhat right. The Big Dipper is the group of stars contained in the Ursa Major. It itself isn’t a constellation.”

…. for me to stay by your side?

“Ahh, I see.” Tranquility falls between you both again, and a strange combination of guilt and relief seeps its way into your being. It would be easier to end this all now, but the stillness of the night ties your tongue in knots, extinguishing your voice for reason with a few strokes on your thighs and warm fingers curled around yours. Instead you say,

“You like the stars a lot, don’t you.” You instantly regret your words, his smiles sliding off his face like melted butter, for reasons beyond your understanding. He’s silent, and for a split second you hear his pulse thunder furiously.

I guess you can say that.” He pauses, gaze aimlessly tracing the constellations hanging above, as if they held secrets untold. Pangs of guilt roll in waves, eating away at you for conjuring such bitter feelings. 

“When I left the Yorbian desert,” his lips unwind, and for a split second, you see a small lone figure, broken and desperate, forcing his way through mountains of sand, “the only help I had was from the stars. They tell many stories, you just have to know how to look.” He claws his way past the sand dunes, gasping for breath as the night sky led him on. 

He clams up, and the boy collapses, silent screams coloring the dessert. For once, words evade him and he struggles to form coherent words to paint the horrors he saw, but you’ve seen how his twists in his sleep, the wordless stream of screams that subsequent each kill, his manic laughter when he returns to you, thick with murder and bloodlust as he creeps into your room. It’s easier to smile and pretend the bad things don’t exist, easier to pretend everything is fine, easier to remain comfortably broken than lose your head in the process of piecing every broken piece together and try to make sense of the horrors.

“Tell me more about your stars.” You whisper, placing your hand on his cheek. You’re alive, you’re don’t have to go back anymore, you’re here and fine, and everything is going to be alright, alright, alright-

He turns to you, resting his free hand over yours, pair of burning suns piercing right through you as the world slows its spinning for just one moment. 

And as if a switch is flipped, something greater than the sum of all your thoughts blooms in your heart, creating tiny explosions that blast into a thousand suns, as if in that moment, a new universe was created inside of you. Heart fluttering, you become all too aware of the heat that colors your cheeks, the steady beat of his pulse as you curled into the nape of his neck, and your own close proximity to him. The smell of honeysuckle permeating the air as the cloudless night sky shone in all its radiance, the autumn breeze carrying the distant smoke of firewood from the distance, your heart full and warm with contentedness.

Your breath hitches, and you believe in that moment that he’s more beautiful than all the stars that are and ever will be in the galaxy. More than stars, you see supernovas of pure chaos and energy radiating from his orbs that burn brighter than even the fiercest of suns, confident and blazing in every way, and of course it’s impossible to tear your gaze away from the brilliant cluster before you. 

(My heart wavers on, oh where will you go, where will you go?)

Your hands are shaking so hard that nothing you do can stop them. His fingers clasp themselves in yours, dispelling any shred of doubt you had left, stilling your thoughts and filling the gaps perfectly as he brings them up to his lips, kissing them with unknown tenderness. 

Stay by me.

Stay be me.

Stay by me.

He was a beast pretending to be human, a demon barely holding on to its mortal form, who dwells in the pits of Tartarus and pretends to exists among ordinary man, but yet, even after everything he has done, he’s beautiful in a way that hurts when stringing your thoughts into tangible words, because when you finally press your lips against his, the very foundation of your being breaks and under the blanket of stars do you both spiral into something too terrible and beautiful for either of you to fathom. 

[tiredthinkbucket]

It comes in waves.

There are sometimes when it’s calm, it’s quiet, it’s almost serene. And Yennefer just feels like a person, she feels alright, like she was never incomplete, like she was enough, like she is enough. She’s strong, but not too strong, just the right amount of weakness to feel her humanity.

And then there are times that weakness is overbearing, it’s all consuming, where she comes apart from the inside. Pieces of her start spilling out, parts so deep and so dark she didn’t even realize that she had, things she’s shoved to the side to address later but later came too soon, and she tries to grab them, to hold them in place while she figures out a way to patch it back together. Yet she always manages to somehow get it, to be mostly whole, better. 

In a way, each time it happens, it gets a little bit easier, because she’s had practice at putting it all back. She’s learned what works, what doesn’t, she knows more about what she needs, and how to heal the fastest and the easiest. It becomes second nature, an unconscious sort of art form. 

But each time, it also gets harder, because the bones have never fully healed, the angles are a little off, the scars have already left her skin a little rough, the stitches are just yanked open, tearing the skin even more than before. Aches that have dulled but they never left, and the cold reminds her that they’re still there, they’ve never left, just been a little more quiet.

Every time, she misses a piece, but in it’s stead she gains a lesson. 

Her father— she was still so young when he died— but she remembers the first realization of loss. She learned that not all things are beautiful, and it was soon after that she realized that most things on the Continent are not beautiful at all. They were like her, ugly, malformed, unnecessary.

Her mother: meant well, but didn’t do well, or not well enough for it to matter. Through her and her failures, Yennefer learnt that good intentions are rarely good enough. Sometimes it’s just better to be straightforwardly selfish, if that’s how it has to be, because there is no sense in trying to make it more palatable. The pill has to be swallowed either way, the effect will be the same.

The villagers, they usually didn’t care enough to really affect her. The few unfortunate interactions she did have with the unlucky taught her fear: fear the unknown, fear the different, fear the ugly. The things that didn’t make sense, that were an abomination, the abnormal, she realized that most shunned them simply because they did not understand. It was not out of an innate dislike, it was protection, a mere defense mechanism. And while it hurt, she understood.

Her step-father was always filled with hatred, and perhaps that’s where she first truly learned the feeling. Sometimes it was not enough to fear what was different from you, sometimes you needed to hate it so you didn’t feel so similar. Hate creates a type of distance, in the way that trying to cross it feels impossible, because the two sides are irreconcilable. Distance makes you safe, removed, impossible to be reached and touched.

The Rectoress taught her humiliation—a burning, enveloping sense of shame and disgust for who and what she was.  Piglet, not worthy of a real name, not even worth full price, only another pig in the pen, an eel in the pool, only a conduit and nothing more. She brought her down lower than she thought she could go, having been raised unloved and unwanted, she realized that even if by some miracle someone could look past her disfiguration, she would still never be loved nor wanted. And so she learnt the shame of desiring something one could never, should never even hope to have. 

With the young sorcerer, her first lover, she came to understand the true meaning and the far reaching effects of betrayal. To put trust in someone so willingly was to ask to be broken. Laughably, she should have expected him to only act as dishonorably as she. It was a lesson she thought she had already knew, that trust was only for constants, and not for mortals. Foolishly, she had forged ahead, blinded by her emotions, comforted by his care, craving the feeling of being wanted by another, despite knowing it wasn’t real, she’d wanted it, she’d had it, and then she destroyed it with something as simple as trusting someone with too much. How could she expect someone else to handle her fragile, patchwork heart with the amount of care she needed to keep it together? 

The King, for all his charm and excellent tastes, was a fool, and if Yennefer learned anything it court, it was that men were more easily swayed by hips than with tongues, and yet they’d sooner listen to another pair of balls than a pair of breasts. People were easy enough to understand and manipulate once you brought them down to their most base desires, but you could only bring them so far within the carnal realm before they refused to go further, for they would rather wallow in wanton pleasure than care about more the more powerful pursuits. Sex can bring pleasure, can tease gold from purses, but it cannot bring peace to war torn lands, cannot feed starving bellies, and it cannot satisfy for very long.

The Witcher, the proud, presumptuous, woebegone mutant, left his parting gift of taking away Yennefer’s free will from her. All the rest, Yennefer had learned how to cope with, how to reassemble the pieces she had been left with when she crumbled down. But now, tied with strings of fate she had never consented to, bound to a man who she probably never truly loved, bereft of her freedom and trapped in a cage that she cannot see, she finally understands the stupidity of her heart. She had always chased after what she thought she could not have, believing that it would finally teach her how to be happy. She may feel constrained because of the man’s wish, but it is herself that has long imposed the restrictions that prevent her, the freedom she lost was nothing she had not already stolen from herself. Yennefer for so long had allowed herself to be told that she was not, could not, would not ever be enough. 

Tissaia de Vries stands before Yennefer of Vengerberg and asks her to stand with her, to fight alongside her, as an equal. Yennefer cannot seem to reconcile the woman that pleads with her now with the one that had once told her she would not be loved even if she were beautiful. But as the confusion swirls in her heart, threatening to break her down once more, reopening the hurts, suddenly all the pieces she has clung to come together.

Yennefer’s one defining fear had always been that she could not be loved because she thought she was hideous. Even after her transformation, she let that terrorize her mind, that she would always have to try her hardest and beyond to manipulate people into loving her. If she wanted to be seen and powerful, she would have to accept that because she was not, she had to fight and selfishly take what she wanted, she needed to ostracize, to despise, she needed to demean and degrade others, she would have to trust no one and especially not a man, and only when she had no choice in the matter did she realize that it has always been her choice. The person that Yennefer has for years striven to prove herself to all along was a hunchback girl from Vengerberg. 

Tissaia had been trying to teach her self sufficiency, by facing her fears and moving beyond them. What Yennefer thought she had wanted was to be good at something, to succeed and excel and to prove to everyone else that she could. That this hunchback, disfigured, undesirable girl could achieve what was thought to be impossible, and she stupidly thought that would be enough for her.

She was already excellent. She has already proved herself to be a capable sorceress. 

And only when she finally accepts that does she realize that Tissaia has long thought so too.

She will accept the invitation. Anyway, what other option does she really have? Fight now or fight later, but there is certainly something satisfying about being asked so desperately, knowing she is needed, wanted. She finally gets her wish when she realizes it was useless. Even now, however, some habits are hard to break.

“Have you ever used that word before?”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 33

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

It’s six thirty in the morning when he steps out onto the front porch; barefoot and blurry eyed, still clad in just a pair of boxer briefs, cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other.  After Nik’s call he’d fallen into a restless sleep; dreaming of Dhaka and the night at Gaspar’s house when he’d been given the five million dollar deal. This time he’d made a different decision; willingly giving both Ovi and Esme up in exchange for money and his freedom. Asif had been there, sitting in a darkened corner; watching and listening. A pleased, victorious smile on his lips as his right hand man brought over his two new favourite playthings. They’d been drugged; minds and eyes hazy, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.  He’d had a change of heart at the last moment; offering his life in exchange for hers. Begging and pleading with Asif to ‘take me instead of the girl’.  Asif had just laughed, then grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at Tyler. Mocking her, telling her to look at the big, strong man now; crying like a baby and bargaining to save her. How did that make her feel? Knowing he could be so weak? That she was the one capable of making him that way? Is that really what she wanted? Someone so pathetic? Or did she want a real man like him. Then he’d his hand had moved to her throat; fingers digging into the soft flesh with enough power and pressure to steal her breath. And he’d kissed her. Savagely. Brutally.

And she’d kissed him back.

Tyler woke up breathless; near sobbing. Tears spilling down his cheeks,  his heart thundering, and chest aching. Initially panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings and bolting upright, wide -almost terrified- eyes taking in everything around him; the furnishings, the color of the walls, his old friend sleeping soundly across the room, the cattle dog sitting beside the couch, curiously watching him.  And it hadn’t been until he’d glanced out the window and caught sight of the mountain range, tree line, and brush that reality had finally settled in.  He was no longer in Dhaka. Not at Gaspar’s outside the city limits.  It was seven years ago. Not now. He’d turned down the offer and Asif hadn’t been there; he’d never laid a hand on her and he’d never kissed her. None of that had ever happened. Just his mind -broken and in tatters- playing tricks on him. They’d made it out of Bangladesh. She was saife. At home. In bed. THEIR bed.

He’d been tempted to call; just to hear her voice; needing that extra bit of reassurance that everything was fine. SHE was fine. But he knew what the mornings could be like; up before the sunrise with the baby, then tending to Declan and getting breakfast made and three kids up and ready for school. Ovi would be there; promising to keep an eye on things and lending a hand whenever it was needed. Kyle couldn’t be relied on; too busy getting his rocks off with Salena. Or whatever the hell her real name is. And Tyler had briefly wondered if getting into Kyle’s life had been part of whatever the new neighbor was up to; a way of weaseling her way into their lives for some fucked. The uncertainty eats at him; knowing that something isn’t quite right yet not being able to prove it or get the information that he needs. Way too many things pointing towards trouble; the Jeep with the stolen plates and the driver with the earpiece that had been watching him and the kids. Salena getting out of the passenger seat with a stack of folders under her arm and no record of her actually existing. All the ingredients, everything needed, to create a huge goddamn mess.

His head throbs. A mixture of lack of sleep and not eating properly. The cravings are intense. When he’d gone into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, he’d been greeted by all the whisky and scotch bottles that littered the counters and shelves; some empty, others half full, a handful still sealed.  And his hands had been shaking as he’d considered it; one on a glass and the other around a bottle of scotch. His brain exhausted from dealing with the nightmare,   trying to piece together the bullshit with the neighbor, and the call from Nik and the threats she’d made.  A single wouldn’t hurt. That’s what the demon on his shoulder had been telling him. That he could stop at just one and walk away; get enough to satisfy the craving, get the taste of it on his lips and tongue.  And he’d been close. So close. Seconds away from pouring the scotch into a glass.  And then as quick as the desperation and the need had come, it had disappeared. Leaving him feeling  weak and shamed and completely disgusted with himself.

Now he sits on the edge of the porch, feeling ground with his feet pressed against the damp earth. It had rained considerably last night; puddles of mud, lower temperatures, and a fresh and familiar earthy smell in its wake. Sadie hasn’t left his side since he’d arrived yesterday; now pressed tightly to him, chin resting on his thigh as he sips his coffee and checks his text messages and emails. Skipping over the angry rants left by Nik and the irritated ‘clearly out of fucks’- one that Yaz had contributed. Tyler hasn’t heard from him since New Zealand; the one other man taking it as a personal slight that he’d given it all up and walked away without even a glance back.

There’s dozens of emails from the contacts he’d reached out to; mercs wanting to work for him and offering their services, retired guys wanting to get back into the game, people who can supply him with weapons and ammo and every other accessory and piece of technology he can imagine.  Even mail from former clients; guys he’d done jobs for and had been so impressed with his efficient -and successful- work. They’re pleased  that he’s not only   back in action, but that he’s actually still alive. They have resources for him; supplies, money, names and numbers of other high profile people that may need some work done.  And he sees the emails that his wife has returned, smiling as he reads her replies; concise, confident, intelligent. As if she’s never spent a single moment away from the job; smoothly and effortlessly transitioning back into her old life.

It won’t be easy; balancing the job and running a business while trying to keep a marriage afloat and raise five kids. But there’s no doubt in his mind that they can do it. They’re stronger together than they are apart; they always have been. And if they can survive the past seven years -especially his addiction issues and a six month separation that should have broken them-, they can survive anything.

He sends a text message. Telling her how much he loves her. Misses her. How he can’t wait to see her. That he’s proud of her. Not just the way that she’s handling the business side of things, but EVERYTHING.  The way she’s always fought for them. For HIM. How she raises his kids. Pouring his heart out with every letter that appears on the screen. He’d not normally that ‘type’, grand displays of affection and sincere, romantic words not his strong suit.  But the nightmare -especially the way Asif had kissed her and she’d reciprocated- has left him feeling unsettled; needing to get things off his chest. The things he feels but always struggles to say.

She quickly sends a text in response. I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. WE MISS YOU.  Accompanied by a selfie of herself and Millie lying in the middle of their bed, both with sleepy smiles and messy hair and hands down the two most beautiful girls in the world. And he thinks of what Koen had said; about how lucky he is and that any woman who would stuck his side -through everything- was a woman worth holding onto him. She could have easily left that day on the bridge; he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But she’d ignored Nik and stuck around and put her own ass on line in an attempt to save his. And that’s nothing you easily thank someone for.

“You really are out of your damn mind,” Koen grumbles, as he wanders out onto the porch, his own cup of coffee in his hand; hair messy from sleep and eyes stilly glassy from all the booze he’d consumed. “Up at these hours of the morning.”

“This is pretty normal for me. Has been since I got clean.”

“Probably used to getting up with the rugrats,” Koen reasons, and takes a seat beside him. “Everything okay?” he nods down at the phone still clutched in Tyler’s hand. “At home?”

“Yeah. Everything’s good. Just checking in on everyone. Making sure they haven’t driven their mom crazy yet.”

“She must already be crazy. Having that many kids with the likes of you. How the hell she puts up with you is beyond me. I’d only be able to stand looking at that ugly mug for so long.”

“You must not look in the mirror very often.”

Koen smirks. “Smart ass. You always were quick with the shit head comments. Thought maybe all that oxygen you were deprived of might have slowed you down a bit. But here I am, dealing with your crap.”

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“About as much as I miss my two ex wives,” Koen scoffs, and then digs a playful elbow in Tyler’s ribs. “You miss it? Living out here?”

“Not really. I have a better life now. A nice place right on the beach. Tons of property. Perfect for raising kids. Wouldn’t have been able to do that out here. We probably would have tried, bt…” he sips his coffee and shrugs. “...we’re happy where we are.”

“Smartest thing you ever did; coming home. No better place to bring up a handful of kids, if you ask me. It’s weird as hell though,” he chuckles. “You doing the whole daddy thing all over again. Never thought I’d see the day, to be honest.”

“Neither did I,” Tyler admits, and he thinks about the picture he’d received just minutes before. Millie with her messy, unruly hair and those huge blue eyes that crinkle at the edges when she smiles. How’d he cried when she’d been born and a nurse had placed her in his arms; tears of both relief that she’d made it safely and immense gratitude that he’d been given that chance again.

After Austin had passed away and his marriage disintegrated, he’d thought that it was it for him. His life had been a mess...HE’D been a mess...and he couldn’t imagine meeting someone that he’d be able to have that kind of experience with. That he’d trust enough to let his guard down around and that could tolerate him and his bullshit long enough to actually fall in with him. That he’d ever find someone to fall in love WITH.

“She’s going to be a heart breaker that one,” Koen says. “The oldest. Those eyes of hers? All the boys are going to be tripping over themselves to get to her.”

Tyler frowns. “They’re going to have to get through me first.”

“Poor bastards. They’re going to be scared shitless when they walk up the house and you’re the first one out to greet them. I feel for them; trying to date a girl that has you as their father. They’d have no clue that you’re capable of tearing them in half.”

“Anyone touches either of my girls, no one will ever find their bodies. No boyfriends. No dates. No dances. None of that. No one is getting close to them. Ever.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Koen chuckles, and takes a swallow of coffee. And for several minutes they sit in silence;   enjoying the feel of the breeze and the smell of fresh, damp earth.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” his friend says. “With the whole merc business. I thought one brush with death would be enough. Apparently not.”

“Things will be different this time. I won’t have to go out in the field as much. Only if things really go to shit.”

“Don’t they always go to shit?”

“Sometimes. Dhaka was the worst, but it wasn’t the first time things went wrong and it won’t be the last. Hopefully we can avoid that level of shit show. I know what I’m doing. I’m not some rookie going into this blind. It was my life for years.”

“But why do you need it to be your life now? Look what you’ve got going for you. You’ve got a wife and little ones. Stability. Why put all that on the line for who you used to be?”

“You having second thoughts?”

“Nope. I said I’m in, I’m in. I’m just worried about you. I don’t you throwing your life away. I don’t want you losing your kids and that pretty little wife of yours. You got a thing going. A damn good thing. You don’t need to fucking that up.”

“It’s something I need to do,” Tyler says. “I need to get back out there. Get back that piece of who I was. I need to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my life.”

Koen frowns. “You don’t think you are? Doing something worthwhile?”

“What am I doing? I don’t have a nine to five job. No skills outside of what I learned in the military and on the job. I pick up odd shit here and there. Nothing steady. I spend more of my time in the gym or out in the water or spending time with my wife.”

“And you’re complaining about that last part? Spending time with the likes of her? What the fuck is wrong with you? Give her to someone who’d appreciate her then.”

“I’m not complaining. Far from it. I’m just saying there needs to be something more to this life. I feel like I need to be doing something more. I need to feel useful again. Like I’m not just washed up, broken down ex soldier with a drinking problem.”

“You’re a husband. And a dad. You help raise little human beings. There’s nothing useless about that. You should be sitting back enjoying your life. Appreciating what you have right in front of you. How you gonna feel if all this blows up in your face? If things go to hell and you lose everything? What the hell you gonna do then?”

“I don’t know. Put a gun in my mouth?”

Koen scowls. “I’m being serious, mate.”

“So am I.”

“All I’m hoping is that you got your shit together and you know what you’re doing. Because this is some serious stuff here. Getting back into being a merc. And you’ve got a lot to lose now. You’ve got everything to lose. That’s all I’m saying.”

Tyler smirks. “When did you become so sensitive and sentimental?”

“Don’t be a dick about this. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you going back into this and losing what you have. Because you finally got your shit together and got a life that’s worth living.”

“I appreciate you worrying about me and all that, mate. I do. But I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to be like last time. I won’t let it be.”

Koen sighs. “You always have been a stubborn sonofabitch.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tyler insists. “And I wouldn’t be doing it if I couldn’t handle it. Things will be alright. Esme and I are in this together. We’re on the same page. We’re not going to let this break us.”

“I hope not,”  Koen says. “Because I don’t think you’d survive that.”

***

His flight arrives on time, touching down shortly before noon hour at Cooktown airport. She parks the truck on the tarmac and waits; a pair of aviator style sunglasses covering her eyes, fingernails drumming against the steering wheel. She gives the pilot a small wave and a pleasant smile when he nods in her direction; they’d met briefly two days before, when he’d come to the house after Tyler had sought out his help.  Short and broad shouldered; brown hair cropped tightly to his head and kind green eyes that sparkle when he smiles. The quintessential ‘boy next door’ with his youthful wholesome good looks and his khaki pants and crisp white golf shirt.  Quite the juxtaposition compared to Tyler; all power and muscle and the tattoos and scars that tell of a hard life spent living on the edge.  

This is the furthest she’s ever gotten into the job; not only helping organize and run things, but the acquiring of weapons and ammo and other supplies, and the handling of money -big money-  aside from her own payouts. It makes her anxious; knowing that she’s one of two people that others will come to now. Instead of being approached with work and offered jobs,  now she’s in charge of finding and assigning them. Gathering intel had been one thing; she’d spent years honing those skills. Being boss is an entirely different animal all in itself.

So much for not getting ‘too involved’.

Four large and heavy locked trunks are placed in the bed of the truck, followed by several smaller duffle bags that are loaded into the back seat. All containing a shockingly generous amount of automatic and semi automatic rifles and handguns, various types of grenades and their launches, knives, and utility vests. Whatever immediate gear that a merc would meet. All would be placed in a storage facility on the outskirts of town, save for a handful that would be kept in the two locked and secure  gun lockers  that already exist at home; one in their garage and the other in the attic.

Once things are safely loaded, an envelope of money is exchanged. Everything being handled off the books; no paper trail that can connect the pilot to the or the very illegal transport of weapons. You never know who is watching. Now that word has gotten out and spread like wildfire, support and interest are pouring in. But it isn’t just the good-intentioned that are paying attention; a man like Tyler Rake burns a lot of bridges and makes a lot of enemies. Evil, dangerous people who feel as if he wronged them and have been holding onto grudges and fantasizing about revenge.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as he slides into the passenger seat. “How was the flight? How…?”

His mouth is on hers before she gets the rest of the words out; a hand tangling in her hair as he aggressively pulls her into him.  The kiss is long and soft and sweet at first; his lips bearing a hint of coffee and a touch of mint. But then things quickly take a more intense turn; his tongue pushing its way way into her mouth, the miss much more ravenous and needy. Desperate.

“Wow…” she breathes, when he pulls away, forehead briefly resting against hers before his lips brush against the bridge of her nose. “...what was that for?”

“I wanted to kiss my wife. That’s not allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed. And encouraged. But that was...intense. That wasn’t your usual ‘back after only twenty four hours’ kiss. That was your ‘I’ve been gone for two or three weeks’ kind of kiss.”

“Guess I just missed you.” he reasons, and then presses his lips to her temple before settling back into his seat and reaching for the belt.

“Okay, something is going on. You kissed me like THAT and you’re letting me drive your truck?”

“You had to drive it here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re here now and it’s your baby and usually…”

“It’s just a truck,” he says with a shrug, and buckles his seat belt.

“Something is definitely going on with you.”

Tyler chuckles. “There’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night and I have a killer headache and it’s probably just better if you drive. That’s all.”

“Do you have a killer headache because…?”

“I wasn’t drinking iof that’s what you’re going to ask. I stayed sober. I told you I wasn’t going to be like that again and I meant it.”

“What was the dream about?”

“Can’t remember. I just know it was fucked and I don’t want to have it again.”

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, noticing the way he grimaces when he stretches his legs out in front of him and the frown on his face as he rubs at his troublesome knee. The scar is long and jagged; starting three inches above and stopping four inches below. There’d been complications; the surgeon discovering more damage, bone fragments and scar tissue than he’d initially expected and having to not only replace the knee, but repair ligaments and tendons that were nearly severed.

“What’s this about?” She reaches over to tussle his hair. The length on the top is the same as when he’d left, but the sides and back now shaved as close to the skin as possible.  High and tight; a Marine cut.  

“Just something I thought I’d try.”

“You’re going back to the old hair aren’t you,” a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re going to let the top grow out.”

“It’s the look you liked the most, yeah? Now you can’t say I never do anything nice for you.”

“Baby…” she leans across the space between their seats and presses a kiss to his cheek; his beard still full yet trimmed and tidier. “...you’re the best. You know how to keep your girl happy.”

He grins. “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” she says, and places a kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back into her seat and starting the ignition.  A companionable silence falling between them as they pull out of the hanger and head for home.

****

“ARE you okay?” Esme asks several minutes later.

“Fine,” Tyler replies, his head tilted back against his seat, eyes closed; one hand on his stomach, the other on her thigh, thumb continuously brushing against her skin.  “Just tired. It was a long night. Couldn’t fall asleep and when I did, I had that fucked up dream.” “And you don’t remember what it was about?”

“Nope. It wasn’t one of the usual ones, though. Never had this one before. But it was messed up. I remember that much.”

How do you explain a dream like THAT? That you’d been  willing to sacrifice someone’s life for five million dollars; knowing that a drug lord would have used and abused them  in horrific and degrading ways before killing them? She doesn’t even know about the whole truth about what happened at Gaspar’s. For nearly seven years she’d assumed that the deal had been for Ovi; that Gaspar had been hell bent on killing him and Tyler refused to give the kid up and all hell broke loose.

“Hmmm…” she turns her full attention to the road, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip. She’s used to this; his constant need to keep everything inside and shoulder every single burden on his own. It’s his protective nature; not wanting to add any extra stress or worry to her already overflowing plate. “...and things went okay?”

“Everything went fine. Got Koen on board, got everything we need to get started. Things went good. Place doesn’t even look the same anymore. Not inside, anyway.”

“And he’s still okay with letting us stay there?”

“Yup. Just said to make sure we change the sheets. Said he doesn’t want to be lying in our ‘business’.”

She laughs at that.

“Did Nik call you?” he casually and calmly asks, hand sliding onto the inside of her thigh; fingertips against the bare skin just below the hem of her shorts.

“Nik? Why should she call me? I’m probably the last person she wants to hear from after that night at the restaurant. I’m sure she blames me for Kyle calling things off.”

“Well in all fairness, you did kind of instigate the whole thing. Hooking him with the neighbor. Even after I told you to stay out of it and mind your business.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault it was instant lust between them. We know all about that, don’t we.”

He grins.

“But no. She didn’t call. That’s kind of a weird thing to ask, About Nik.”

“She called me,” Tyler admits, and he notices the way both of her brows arch. “Last night. I only answered because I thought it was you and that maybe something was wrong at home.”

“Why would she call you? Was she having a lonely night? Wanted to have phone sex?”

“I didn’t have the energy. I’d already had phone sex with you, so…”

“Boy that must have broken her heart; the fact you keep shooting her down. Maybe she feels if she keeps bugging you enough she’ll wear you down and you’ll give in.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you; I’m not a cheater. I don’t want anyone else but you. And she actually called to give me shit. I guess word travels faster than we thought it would.”

“Well it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Later would have been nice.”

“I take it she wasn’t happy.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s one way of putting it. She lost her shit. She’s taking it personally; thinks I did it to purposefully fuck her over and put her out of business.”

“Mercs are jumping ship left, right, and center. I can’t keep up with all the messages and the emails. She’s not going to have anyone left.”

He shrugs. “Guess she shouldn’t have let things go to shit.”

“They went to shit seven years ago when she made the decisions she did. That should have been the end of it; when she was so willing to leave you on the bridge to die. She totally fucked you. And not in a good way. Like whose dick is she sucking that she keeps her job?”

A grin tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “You’re feisty today.”

“I hope you do put her out of business. I hope she loses everything. Because she fucking deserves it. She’s done a lot of shitty things and I’m glad karma is finally biting her in the ass.”

“She’s not going to go down without a fight. She’s pretty pissed. And pretty determined to make my life hell.”

Esme frowns. “She said that? That she’s going to make your life hell?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Well what did she say? Did she threaten to show up and kick your ass? I’d love to see her try.”

“She just said some shit. About us. When I said something about how my wife and my kids will always be around, she made a comment about how she’ll ‘see about that’.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But I told her I wasn’t fucking around. Don’t threaten my family. It didn’t end well for the last person who tried it and it won’t end well for her.” “Nk hardly seems the type that would hurt kids. There’s no doubt in my mind she’d come for me. She’s been wanting me out of the picture for a long time. But to do something to hurt the kids? I can’t see her stooping that low.”

“I don’t think it was a physical threat. Nik’s all about screwing with peoples’ heads. Look what she did to me. She knew I was messed up and she knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to do what she wanted.”

“You think that’s what it is? Psychological warfare? Because she’s never gone up against me and that's a  battle I will not lose. I’ve gone up against bigger and better than her and I’m still here to tell about it. Besides, what could she possibly say that would bother me that much? After everything I’ve been through in the past seven years? Nothing could unnerve me that badly that it would screw things up between us. Look at everything we’ve been through. That shit we’ve survived.  She doesn’t even know HALF of it. Trust me, there’s nothing she could say that could hurt us.”

“It’s Nik. She’ll make shit up if she has to.”

“She can save her breath. I know all your deepest and darkest secrets. So if she thinks she has something to surprise me, she’s got another thing coming. I do, right?” she casts him a sidelong glance. “Know everything I need to know?”

“There’s nothing I haven’t told you. I told you most of it in the first couple of days. Everything else you’ve lived through with me.”

“Then let her make shit up,” Esme shrugs. “I think I trust you word over hers. After everything she’s pulled,  I wouldn’t believe a goddamn word she says. And the fact she’d even threaten you? Like, she knows who she’s talking to, right? Someone who killed two people with one garden rake. That’s really who she wants to go up against?”

“She probably thinks I won’t retaliate. I don’t give a shit what history we have. You don’t threaten my family. Ever.”

“Normally I’d tell you you’re being paranoid and you’re way too overprotective, but this side of you is kind of hot.”

He grins. “Kind of?”

“Totally hot,” she admits, then giggles and shoves his hand away when he slides it towards her crotch. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What’s gotten into you the last few days? You’re a little...I don’t know...assertive...when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

“I’m not allowed to want to have sex with my life? First I can’t kiss you a certain way, now I can’t have sex with you either?”

“It’s not that you can’t. You’re just a little more...demanding...than usual. Needy.  Needy is a good word for it. And we’ve always had a lot of sex but lately, you’ve just been...extra...about it.”

He gives in an amused smirk. “I’m extra?”

“In a good way,” she assures him.

“Look, I love you. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. And I want to fuck you. So…”  his hand once again slides along her thigh, slipping under the leg opening of her shorts. Fingertips grazing against the edge of her simple cotton pants. “...when we get home, that’s what we’re going to do. Fuck.”

“Addie and Declan are there. Ovi’s watching them.”

“Send them to his place. Tell him we need half an hour kid free. He’ll know what that means.”

“A half an hour?” she playfully inquires. “When has it only taken half an hour?”

“I’m in a mood,” he replies, and slides a finger under her panties, and she swallows noisily and her entire body tenses when it pushes through her folds and grazes over her clit.

“Obviously. And you’re going to put me in a mood!” She squeezes  her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. “Stop! I’m trying to drive!”

“Just relax. Let me do this.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Come on…” he grins. “...do it. I know you want to. It’s something we’ve never done before. You can’t tell me you don’t want to try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler. I could crash and kill us both and our kids would be orphans. That’s pretty much the worst.”

“Do it…” he encourages. “...open your legs...let me do this for you...let me make you feel good.”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Our little secret,” his grin widens. “I promise.”

“You're insane. You really are.”

“Maybe. But I can feel how wet you are. “I know you want it just as much as I do. Just do it. Just this once. Let me to this for you.”

She sighs heavily, thighs releasing the grip on his hand.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, swallowing noisily when he slips another finger between her folds, watching her face as the tips press against her clit. Noticing the flush that creeps into her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way her teeth dig painfully into her bottom lip.

“You really are a bad influence,” she half-heartedly complains.

“Yeah,” he agrees, as his fingers continue their ministrations.  “But you love me though.”

She doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

[hotforharrison]

Unholy Divinity ch 5

Chapter 4 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 6

Shiny new moodboard by the amazing @hazssouthernbelle!

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader/Tom Holland

Summary: Choosing to spend your eternity in heaven or hell should be easy, right? Yeah, not so much.

Word Count: 2,659

Warnings: Language & Smut

A/N: Have another longer than average part and enjoy the new moodboard that I’m madly in love with.

You passed time telling Tom stories about your life before you died, not sure if he knew them already or not, since he said he ‘handpicked’ you, whatever that meant. You figured that even if he did, it wouldn’t have been through your perspective.

Gradually, his bravado disappeared completely, and the new Tom made your heart melt a bit.

“You know, I’m not scared of you at all now,” you commented with a smile.

He sweetly kissed you. “As long as this stays between us, both here and in hell if you choose to join me. The king of hell can’t be seen as soft.”

“I promise it will,” you told him. “How are you so good at being the king of hell, though?”

“I was an actor when I was alive. The king of hell is just another role, but one that’s given me a lot more freedom than I ever had as a fallen angel,” he explained.

“How did you even become a fallen angel? You don’t seem like a bad person,” you commented.

“That’s a story for another time,” he answered.

You didn’t want to push him, after he’d already told you so much. “Anyway, now that you’re not the big scary king of hell in my mind, will you do everything you said when we slept together earlier next time?”

He laughed. “Of course. It’s a pity that next time isn’t right now, but Harrison could be back at any moment.”

As if he heard his name, Harrison walked in and took in the sight of the two of you cuddling fully clothed on the bed. “Didn’t think you were the type to linger, Tom.”

Tom stood up and put his jacket back on. “I promised you privacy, and now I know when you’re here, so I can make a point of not walking in on you cumming in your pants again. At least I’ve left her satisfied for now.”

“And she’ll realize what she was missing out on and be genuinely satisfied when you come back.” Harrison moved out of the way by the door to allow Tom to pass.

Tom stopped to kiss you, particularly dirty and long, while Harrison watched. “I’ll see you again soon, darling. It’s a good thing he can’t bore you to sleep.”

You watched as Tom walked out of the room, oozing confidence, falling into his role expertly. He was absolutely nothing like the boy he’d let you see when you promised to tell no one, the boy you could see yourself falling in love with.

As much as you’d enjoyed your time with Tom, you had wanted Harrison as well the entire time, constant and insistent at the back of your mind.

Without warning, you launched yourself at the gorgeous angel and kissed him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Did you miss me, pretty girl?” he asked, kissing you again before you could respond.

“So much,” you confirmed after he pulled away.

“I’m going to ask you something, and please be honest with me, alright?” he started.

“I will,” you agreed.

He moved back to look into your eyes, expression serious. “Tom didn’t do anything to hurt you, did he? I know I told you he wouldn’t, but then I spent the whole time I was away thinking too much about it, and I needed to make sure.”

“No. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to,” you answered, purposely leaving out the details.

“Good, I’m so glad.” He pulled you against him tightly, with a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you in unsafe hands and something happened to you.”

You kissed him again, with both gratitude and want.

He pulled back and chuckled. “Did Tom really leave you that unsatisfied, love?”

“No, I just missed you a lot,” you told him, smiling.

“Since you missed me so much, is Tom out of your system?” he asked, lightly, but you could hear the hopeful undertones.

“Not yet.” If you were being completely honest, it was probably ‘not ever.’

“His lovers did always come back for more. I really wondered if that had changed, too, since his fallen angel fuckbuddies were leaving him,” he admitted.

You cringed. A big part of you wanted to correct him, tell him that Tom wasn’t who Harrison thought he was, that maybe they could reconcile, but that wasn’t your place. “He wasn’t at all selfish, if that’s what you mean.”

“So it was good for you?” he asked.

“For the most part, yeah,” you responded.

“I’m glad,” he said, then added teasingly, “anything I could improve on?”

“There’s something I want you to teach me,” you told him.

“What would that be?” he asked.

“I want to learn how to go down on a guy,” you replied.

“So you can know what you’re doing with Tom?” he guessed.

“Well, also you. It’s not like I plan on just doing this once and never again,” you said.

He chuckled. “Alright. I can show you, love.”

You grinned. “Thank you!”

“Yes, you should be thanking me for giving me a blowjob,” he commented, obviously amused. “I’m looking forward to returning the favor.”

“Me too. I’ve always wondered what that’s like,” you admitted.

He frowned. “Tom didn’t do that for you?”

You bit your lip while you were contemplating whether to explain or not, and eventually decided it wouldn’t be too revealing. “He was worried I wouldn’t tell him to stop if I didn’t want something. He wanted to see my face the entire time to make sure, since he’s the king of hell, and kind of...intimidating?”

Harrison’s expression softened. “I guess I’ll give him a pass on that.”

“I admit that I don’t know the story behind your falling out with him, but Tom’s really not as bad as you think,” you told him, knowing you were probably overstepping your bounds, but you desperately wanted them to be able to be in the same room with you. “Maybe you should talk to him sometime, without antagonizing each other.”

“Maybe,” he said. “It does feel kind of like we’re angry divorced parents sharing custody of you.”

You laughed.

“Would I be wrong if I said you probably won’t be making a decision any time soon?” he asked.

You shook your head. “You wouldn’t be wrong. As awful as purgatory is when I’m alone, this is probably the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I don’t want to imagine spending eternity missing either one of you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’d miss you, too, pretty girl. It’s been so long that I forgot what it felt like to see someone new, how exciting it is.”

You leaned forward to kiss him heatedly, lips parting and tongues meeting, your fingers stroking his wings teasingly. Your lips didn’t separate when you pushed him gently down and straddled him to grind against him, careful of his sensitive wings.

He pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard. “Stop, stop.”

You immediately climbed off of him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I was just getting too close, and I didn’t want to delay your lesson,” he explained, getting up to take off his clothes.

You quickly pulled your clothes off, too, tossing them onto the floor beside the bed.

You didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes from Harrison’s body as more of it was revealed. When he was completely nude, the first thing you noticed was that he was markedly more well-endowed than Tom was. “What the fuck, you have a bigger dick!”

“Than Tom?” he asked.

“He told me you didn’t,” you responded.

“The king of hell lied to you. Surprising,” he said, drily. “I could have told you that, though. I wouldn’t be upset if you want to do something else if you’re uncomfortable or scared.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll be okay. You aren’t as big as the guys in porn, and those girls handle them just fine.” You reached over to grab his hand and pulled him back toward the bed.

He sat up at the top of the bed, leaning against the headboard. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You ran your fingers down his torso until you reached his cock where it rested against his stomach, wrapping your hand around it. Your fingertips and thumb didn’t quite meet around its girth. After a couple of uncertain strokes, you moved to lick him tentatively from base to tip and take him into your mouth.

He gasped, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Fuck, love.”

You swirled your tongue around the head, precum bitter and a bit unpleasant, before you popped off. “This is supposed to be a lesson,” you teased.

He smirked down at you. “The lesson is anything you do is going to feel fucking amazing, as long as you make sure not to use your teeth, and be careful not to make yourself gag.”

You laughed and took him in your mouth again, wrapping your hand around the base. Remembering what he’d said about gagging, you slowly figured out how much of him you could take comfortably.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” he praised you between the little pleasured noises he made that you couldn’t get enough of. He slowly ran his fingers through your hair. You were pretty sure no one had ever looked at you with that much affection, and it made your heart swell.

It didn’t take long for his moans to grow louder and breathing more labored. “Oh god, I’m going to cum.”

You’d failed to consider what to do about that, but you decided to let him finish in your mouth. You wrinkled your nose at the salty and bitter taste. With no good place to spit it out, you instead swallowed it down.

“Oh no, I should have thought to warn you about that. I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s fine. It could definitely be worse,” you reassured him.

“Let me make it up to you, love,” he offered, carefully and effortlessly moving you to lie on the pillows at the head of the bed. It wasn’t just Tom, then. Angels apparently had super strength, too. That probably wouldn’t ever stop being hot.

You watched his head of blond hair descend as he peppered kisses down your torso, leaving your skin warm and tingling where his lips had touched it. He was obviously eager to get to his final destination.

“I promise next time I’ll take my time, but god, I want to taste you so bad,” he told you as he climbed between your spread legs and put them over his shoulders.

You inhaled sharply when his tongue pushed inside you, curving to easily find your g-spot, and his nose unexpectedly bumped against your already throbbing clit.

He pulled back to say, “you’re fucking delicious,” and then dived back in enthusiastically.

“Oh my god,” you moaned when he licked from your entrance up to your clit, circling it teasingly before finally flicking his tongue across it.

One, then two, fingers pressed into you, also curling to find your g-spot as he pumped them in and out unhurriedly. He pulled back again. “Want my dick after this?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

His mouth returned to your clit, focusing on it more heavily than he had been. The stretch when he worked a third finger into you was enough to push you over the edge into an intense orgasm. Your hips rolled against his face as he stretched you more with his fingers while you were in the midst of your climax.

After you had come down from your high, he pulled his fingers out, taking a moment to lick them clean. He wiped his glistening face off on his arm, then climbed up your body.

“I want you inside me,” you begged him.

He reached down between your bodies to line himself up. His eyes were on yours as he pushed his hips forward until he popped inside you.

The stretch didn’t ache like it had with Tom, which surprised you, since Harrison was bigger. Although, if you were honest, your orgasm with Harrison had been much stronger than it had been with Tom, and you were also much less nervous.

“Ready for me to move, love?” he asked.

“Please,” you almost begged.

His thrusts started out as a gentle rocking, but gradually grew harder and faster, until he was fucking into you at a steady pace.

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked, a bit breathlessly.

“Definitely,” you answered, wondering why he felt the need to ask.

His lips met yours in a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his mouth and tongue, and realized that was why he asked, but found that you didn’t mind.

You heard something over your shared labored breathing and moans. You made eye contact with Tom standing in the doorway. He was holding a small pile of books and a few other things you were too far away to identify. He lifted his hand to wave, quietly placing the pile by the doorway, and walked away. A big part of you wished he would have stayed.

Harrison had apparently been too distracted to notice Tom’s presence.

You continued thoroughly enjoying what Harrison was doing, while simultaneously wondering what had just happened with Tom in the back of your mind.

Harrison pulled back from your kiss and slowed his thrusts. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. Just got caught up in my thoughts for a minute,” you half-lied.

“Well, whatever you were thinking about just made you a lot wetter,” he commented, with a smirk.

You felt bad about the actual reason and decided to change the subject. “Can you make me cum again?”

“Of course, pretty girl.” He sped up again and snaked a hand between your bodies to rub your clit in quick circles.

It didn’t take much for you to reach a second climax, especially thinking that Tom had just been there, that he might have been watching you secretly before getting your attention. Your body’s pulsing and clenching around Harrison’s cock brought him over the edge with you.

After your breathing had slowed, and he’d softened quite a bit, he pulled out and rolled over next to you. You lay your head on his shoulder, but glanced over at the pile of things Tom had left by the door.

Harrison noticed where you were looking and saw it, too. “That wasn’t there before.”

“It wasn’t,” you agreed.

Several moments of silence passed. “Is Tom showing up why you suddenly got wetter?”

“Maybe?” You hid your face in his chest, embarrassed.

He chuckled. “I’m not upset. I’m just surprised he didn’t interrupt us.”

“He’s full of surprises,” you said.

Harrison moved to get up, padding across the room and grabbing the pile from by the door. “I’m curious what he brought you and why.”

“I’m curious, too,” you admitted.

“There’s a note. ‘To make purgatory less miserable.’ Let’s see. An mp3 player, a speaker, and some Airpods. A blank journal and some pens and pencils. The Great Gatsby, Lolita, The Notebook, The Kama Sutra, and the Bible.” Harrison laughed at that. “This is actually really sweet, and not something I can do for you.”

“You’re not allowed to bring things?” you asked.

“Afraid not,” he answered. “There’s no one in hell to tell Tom what he can and cannot do. It honestly reminds me of the little things he used to do for the girls he dated when we were alive. I thought that part of him was gone.”

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you encouraged for a second time, deciding that you weren’t going to stop until the two had a heart to heart.

Harrison sighed. “It’s honestly probably past time. We haven’t talked in ages. I’ll wait here with you until he comes back.”

Unholy Divinity tag list: @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @relise-thefury @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @eeyore101247 @unholyhaz @definitely-not-black-cat

[shakasa]

sakura haruno fanfic rec list.

I tend to lean towards longer Sakura-centric fics. I'm not really one for oneshots, so if long rides are your type of thing, you're in the right place.

Maybe if this gets a lot of attention, I'll make a part 2 but as of now, this is all I'm posting since its 3am. It's still pretty decently sized though.

I'm also on mobile so sorry if my formatting looks wonky.

Anachronistic Drift

Summary: Her plan was flawless. Save Shisui. Save the world. Time-travel, Sakura-centric AU

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 93k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Dec 29, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/11675447/1/Anachronistic-Drift

Survival of the Fittest

Summary: Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

Pairing: N/A. Shikasaku if you squint really hard.

Word count: 24k

Status: Complete.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127889

Sunrise

Summary: They say hello more times than goodbye, and Sakura thinks it might be for the best. Especially when it's time to go. / (AU) War-torn Japan, 1600s. Married life.

Pairing: Sasusaku

Word count: 141k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Dec 25, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/12769548/1/Sunrise

Kill Your Heroes

Summary: It's time to stop waiting for other people to save you. A story about fear, resilience, and Sakura.

Pairing: N/A but hints of Itasaku later on but it's really ignorable.

Word count: 268k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Dec 25, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/11418526/1/Kill-Your-Heroes

Retrograde Motion

Summary: From sixteen to eleven didn't feel like a big jump until she realized that she was now the best ninja in their class. And that tiny Sasuke hates her for it.

Pairing: N/A.

Word count: 75k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Feb 6, 2019.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566900/chapters/28622888

Believe Me When I Say I Carry All My Sins

Summary: Sakura knew the best way to tear a man's spine out of his nose without breaking a sweat. She didn't know how to live in a village with Minato as Hokage and the Uchiha clan as the beloved police force. She didn't know how to live as a disgraced genin in a bloody apartment with dead men knocking at her door. She didn't know how to forgive herself for failing Konoha. Now she had a chance to save it.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 30k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Apr 26, 2019.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103049/chapters/35020064

Hokage by Necessity

Summary: Hokage-it was Naruto's dream, just as Sasuke was his promise. And for a short, glorious time, he had them both. But when tragedy strikes, it is Sakura who must continue to bear the reality of the dream: endless paperwork, bickering Kage, and political factions.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 65k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Jan 16, 2015.

https://fanfiction.net/s/9576833/1/Hokage-By-Necessity

Daughter of Fire

Summary: Sakura got up and didn’t bother brushing the dirt from her dress. She had a feeling she was about to get even dirtier. She looked at the memorial stone one last time, memorizing the characters without even realizing she was doing it. It would serve from that moment on as a reminder of her determination. She wouldn’t let Naruto and Sasuke join the names carved on that stone. That was her nindo.

Pairing: Kakasaku but it's endgame.

Word count: 53k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated January 15, 2020.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17306768/chapters/40708583

Expedient

Summary: Konoha and Iwa sign a truce and agree to an Exchange Program between recently promoted genin to "bolster village relations." Fortunately, if anything were to go wrong, Haruno Sakura was just average enough to risk losing.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 277k

Status: Complete

https://fanfiction.net/s/6004135/1/Expedient

Shikkotsu no Sakura

Summary: Sakura made a promise to the slugs of Shikkotsu Forest. She will not fail them, not for anything. (I HIGHLY recommend reading the previous fics in the "the ballad of the slug sage" series. This particular fic is part 7 and may not make sense if you don't read the previous parts.)

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 119k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated November 28, 2019.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13439829/chapters/30802980

The First Flower of Spring

Summary: Because every ninja comes from somewhere. Lacking a presence in any ninja village, the Haruno are a clan just the same. Beholden to the traditions of her family, Sakura is changed, as are Team Seven's dynamics. What will become of them? (Super duper OOC Sakura with a kekkei genkai but I still found it entertaining.)

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 90k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Jan 10, 2015.

https://fanfiction.net/s/7476705/1/The-First-Flower-of-Spring

Hollow Point

Summary: Arms dealing is her trade, but young and in a man's world, it takes a criminal mastermind to play with the big dogs without getting bit. TobiSaku/ItaSaku. Crime!AU. Rated M for mentions of adult themes.

Pairing: Tobisaku. Itasaku.

Word count: 137k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Nov 22, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/12960050/1/Hollow-Point

The Vessel

Summary: I started out as a girl without memories in a foreign land, and life took a turn for the worse after that. Sakura-centric. (This is a crossover between AOT and Naruto.)

Pairing: Levi x Sakura

Word count: 282k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated May 27, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/10032202/1/The-Vessel

The Man in Black

Summary: A man in black haunts her hospital. But what does he want and why is it that Sakura is the only one that can see him? ItaSaku. Modern Myth AU. Death AU

Pairing: Itasaku

Word count: 9k

Status: Complete. Oneshot.

https://fanfiction.net/s/13160495/1/The-Man-in-Black

Close to Home

Summary: Something in his eyes told her, it was always you. [SasuSaku. Blank period. Bonus chapters to come.]

Pairing: Sasusaku

Word count: 38k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/12884838/1/Close-to-home

Dirt and Ashes, or the One-and-a-Half Body Problem

Summary: The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn't fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home. Alternative summary: In which Sakura carries half of Hidan across two countries, leaving a trail of blood, bodies, and other people's legs.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 90k

Status: Complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012402/chapters/9015190

Nightmare in Red

Summary: Haruno Sakura used to think the eyes were the windows to the soul, but after witnessing the horrors of the Sharingan firsthand, she's convinced they are the doors. Itasaku. Nonmass.

Pairing: Itasaku

Word count: 109k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/12024623/1/Nightmare-in-Red

I Found You Missing

Summary: 'They're asking us because these soldiers have absolutely no one left to write home to,' Sakura thought with a frown. So she signs up for the Shinobi Letter Exchange, not realizing how large the consequences would be. - AUish one-shot [KakaSaku]

Pairing: Kakasaku

Word count: 18k

Status: Complete. Oneshot.

https://fanfiction.net/s/10752939/1/I-Found-You-Missing

Five Kingdoms for the Dead

Summary: After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 220k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/4545558/1/Five-Kingdoms-for-the-Dead

Catch 22

Summary: Sakura isn't weak because she lacks strength. She is weak because they protect her. Sakura-centric

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 106k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Apr 22, 2013. (Yeah it's probably never going to be finished but still a good read)

https://fanfiction.net/s/5405135/1/Catch-22

Freedom in the Eyes of Another

Summary: The Wave Mission was a failure. They got caught, captured, taken-it didn't end well. Now Sakura has a half-heard order, uncut fingernails, and more desperation than bravery. One way or another, she's getting Team Seven out today. Complete.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 20k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/7281191/1/Freedom-in-the-Eyes-of-Another

Stripped Bare

Summary: When Sakura wanted a change of pace, she hadn't expected THIS! Now she's on a mission with Kakashi, masquerading as a dancer at a club far away from home and she finds herself forced to explore her own powers of sexuality and seduction. KakaSaku (Rated M)

Pairing: Kakasaku

Word count: 295k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/3998157/1/Stripped-Bare

The Way of the Wind

Summary: ANBU Captain Uchiha Itachi had things well planned out, until a medic-nin with ridiculous hair went and made herself interesting. Sakura insisted she was just doing her job, but Itachi didn't quite see it that way. Non-massacre. Sakura/Itachi.

Pairing: Itasaku

Word count: 158k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/4136594/1/The-Way-of-the-Wind

Take It or Leave It

Summary: Akatsuki & Sakura. After a moment of shock, Sakura realized that two fully grown, fully naked men were sitting squished uncomfortably together in her bathtub. (This one has a huge plot twist. Don't let the summary turn you off from this story)

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 79k

https://fanfiction.net/s/3608990/1/Take-It-or-Leave-It

Found

Summary: Deidara & Sakura. He was peculiar and a little too observant for her tastes, but he was also alone, just like her, at the fault of this supercilious war. So she would dance with him, just until they could both forget how much they had lost.

Pairing: Deisaku

Word count: 105k

Status: Complete.

https://fanfiction.net/s/3478457/1/Found

Vertigo

Summary: Sakura accepts the most critical and dangerous mission of her life, but the price of success may very well be her soul. When your entire world turns upside down, how do you keep from going under? DeiSaku.

Pairing: Deisaku

Word count: 201k

Status: Complete

https://fanfiction.net/s/4146785/1/Vertigo

Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond

Summary: Naruto had been bragging all day that his new jutsu was his best yet. Sakura and her new situation beg to differ. Post timeskip. DeiSaku.

Pairing: Deisaku

Word count: 82k

Status: Complete

https://fanfiction.net/s/3281376/1/Somewhere-I-Have-Never-Travelled-Gladly-Beyond

Seven Days

Summary: A mission gone awry lands two squeakyclean ninja in the Konoha Prison for a week. One cell. Seven Days. What could possibly happen? [Aside from the obvious throttling, of course. This is Kakashi and Sakura we're talking about].

Pairing: Kakasaku

Word count: 68k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Mar 25, 2008. (It's been over a decade so it's a lost cause.)

https://fanfiction.net/s/3063206/1/Seven-Days

The Window

Summary: Sakura always wanted to see Kakashi unmasked. This was a bit much though...

Pairing: Kakaskau

Word count: 165k

Status: Complete

https://fanfiction.net/s/3161976/1/The-Window

Fated

Summary: Sakura runs from her past as Kakashi wants to run from life. Naruto and Genma witness the painful trials their friends must go through.

Pairing: Sasusaku. Kakasaku

Word count: 124k

Status: Complete

https://fanfiction.net/s/2144296/1/Fated

Loyalty

Summary: Blind loyalty is simple. The problem only begins when the world makes you open your eyes. Sakura-centric, AU, pre-timeskip.

Pairing: N/A

Word count: 243k

Status: Incomplete. Last updated Dec 3, 2019.

https://fanfiction.net/s/5316196/1/Loyalty

[hbostolemysoul]

Thalassophobia - Shifty Powers x Reader

Your smile is polite, if not a bit strained, as the other members of the 101st airborne shoot you concerned glances before they venture off deck and deeper into the helm of the ship that would ferry you to England.

As you look towards the horizon you can now only see a tiny sliver of the port from which you left not too long ago.

The unease swelled in your chest, all-consuming much like the dark waves that crashed so harshly beneath you.

“Breathe Y/N…just breathe”, the gentle voice inside your head was almost drowned out through the almost thunderous sound of the waves below you.

Knuckles white as your hands gripped the rail in front of you. You could hear as the last of the men made there way below, so far below the surface. You suppressed a shudder at the thought of what might happen to them should the boat sink.

You could think of no fate worse than drowning, and as a medic, you knew of many ways in which someone could die…but to you the mere thought of being trapped below the dark unforgiving waves, pulled deeper and deeper below the surface as you fought for breath.

Your hands squeeze the rail tighter and you close your eyes. Yeah, getting shot didn’t seem to be so bad in comparison.

As the sun began to set you could feel the temperature drop. Shuddering more from cold than fear you knew that with all the bodies packed below it would be significantly warmer. You just couldn’t bring yourself to move though.

To put yourself in a position where you would be inevitably trapped should something go wrong, well you just couldn’t do it. At least up here, you would have a chance…at least you would be prepared.

“...Ma’am?”, you jolt and look over to your left. Seeing that its Shifty you can feel yourself relax a bit.

“Hey Shifty”, you can hear the exhaustion in your voice, and you curse yourself for it. 

Hell, you weren’t even in the actual war yet and the bloody ocean was enough to make you feel weak and pathetic.

“Well Ma’am…you weren’t down below, the fella’s and I…well we was worried.”, you can see the concern in Shify’s dark eyes, they are almost doe like you think. Quite beautiful come to think of it.

Clearing your throat you look away, hoping the faint flush working its way onto your cheeks would be missed by the concerned sharp shooter.

“You can call me Y/N Shifty, feel like we have known each other long enough to be on a first name basis, don’t you think?” you can see his ears turn pink as he blushes, and for a few moments your mind is focused less on the pounding waves below, and more on the kind man before you.

Shifty gradually comes to lean on the railing next to you. There is a comfortable silence that settles between you two before Shifty shoots you a shy glance,

“I hope you don’t mind me askin’…but why haven’t you come down below Ma’..Y/N?”.

Pursing your lips you look down at your feet.

“Just don’t like being on boats Shifty”, you follow the statement with a shrug. You couldn’t bring yourself to full-on lie to him, but a half-truth was better than nothing.

He seemed to pause for a moment, mulling over the information. He looked unconvinced but wasn’t the type to push.

Eventually, you felt the weight of the day’s events hit you, giving in to your need for sleep you followed Shifty down into the ‘abyss’ of the ship.

The crowded bunks already smelled of stale bodies, cigarette smoke, and the sourness of vomit. Taking a shuddering breath, you followed behind Shifty, squeezing past groups of men until you reached your bunk.

Shifty shoots you a small smile before making his way a bit further down to his bunk.

Laying down you can feel the ship sway with the waves, closing your eyes you will the sick feeling in your stomach away as you slowly lull yourself into a fitful sleep.

The sound of screeching steel has to be the most horrific sound you have ever heard. Your legs feel like lead as you struggle to make it up to the stairs. The ice-cold water nipping at your heels, slowly swallowing the terrified screams of the men who will not make it out in time.

The sliver of light above you is growing dimmer and dimmer. The faster you try to move the slower you go.

Soon you are encased in ice cold,

Pulled deeper and deeper below,

Your lungs burn as the last remnants of oxygen die out.

The overwhelming taste of salt hits your tongue as your lungs take in gulps of knife-like water.

As your vision grows dim you weakly reach out,

Fingers just grazing the small sliver of light that would have been your freedom.

When you wake you are covered in a cold sweat, chest heaving as if fighting to take in as much air as possible.

A choked sob leaves your lips, you quickly cover your mouth with a fist, trying desperately not to draw attention to yourself.

You are trembling and you can feel warm tears searing their way down your cheeks.

You felt pathetic.

It was just a dream.

Just a horrible, horrible dream.

With shaky legs you pull yourself out of bed, stumbling down the narrow hall, you don’t know where your legs are taking you, you just know that you need to move.

Looking forward you think you can make out the base of a staircase.

You needed to get out.

Get out of this would be coffin.

“Y/N?”,

You feel yourself freeze, looking over you see a half-asleep Shifty. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes he sits up more when he sees how distressed you look.

You can feel your face crumple as more tears cascade down them. You all but throw yourself into Shifty’s arms.

He is startled at first, but soon you can feel the warmth of his arms as he pulls you close, rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

You should feel ashamed of yourself, having a meltdown and then throwing yourself at another soldier. 

But in this moment, all you feel is grateful.

Shifty is humming some soft lullaby into your neck as he gently cradles you, swaying back and forth as one might do with a scared child.

“I-I'm s-sorry Shifty…I don’t want to drown, please I don’t..”, the words tumble from your lips between quiet sobs. Shifty just pulls you closer, pressing kisses to your forehead as he whispers quiet words of comfort.

“You’re safe, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to you, you hear? I’ve got you, not gonna let you drown”, something about his tone calms the storm within you a bit.

Looking up with tear rimmed eyes you mumble,

“Promise?”

You know you probably look and sound like a scared child, but with the way Shifty is looking at you right now, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“I promise, now let’s get you back to bed”, you nod and wrap your arms around him tighter, making no move to leave.

A small sigh leaves his lips, as he pulls you down onto the cot. His hands run along your back as he continues to hum softly. Between the slightly elevated thrum of his heartbeat and the melodic rumble of his voice, you soon find yourself asleep. Only this time your dreams are filled with warm touches and sunlight.

Masterlist

(So I am not super happy with this, but I wanted to post something new/original for you guys. Hope it was okay!)

Taglist:

@croatianbagudna @thisclassisriddikkulus  @junojelli   @higgles123 @wexhappyxfew

[montyprescottjoy]

Para: Sunflower (title from the song of the same name by Post Malone HERE)

Who: Vitya Cristo & Monty Prescott @vityacristo

When: July 7th, 2020

Where: Vitya’s apartment, The Flame

What: Vitya goes to work for the first time since his health scare, leaving Monty alone in his bed... but Monty follows him and doesn’t like what he sees... fighting ensues...

Triggers: General mental health; seeing inside the mind of a mentally ill person. Prostitution and brief explicit sexual acts.

Vitya

Vitya had never moved so quietly in his life. He opened his dresser drawers inch by inch, extracting what he needed, then slowly closing them again. Instead of getting dressed in his bedroom, he opted for his bathroom. It was taking nearly four times as long to get dressed, all in the effort to ensure the man sleeping in his bed didn't wake.

Monty was visiting. Again. He was a constant now. A more accurate description was he practically lived in Vitya's dorm, at this point. For weeks, Vitya loved it. The sex, the company, all of it. But, reality is a bitch, and Vitya was handed the leash. He was out of cash, entirely. He had not worked in weeks, and he needed money, soon. And he was not about to ask Monty. No, he already took too much from the other man. So, he opted to slink around his own dorm, putting on his 'work clothes.' Skin tight, torn jeans, a shirt made out of mesh, a leather jacket, and his boots. Straightened his hair, patted his face with a foundation, smudged his eye-liner, everything to announce he was available. A classic escort fuckboy.

Looking at himself in the mirror this time felt... wrong. Previous times he felt powerful, invincible. Now, he felt gross. His eyes turned to Monty, still asleep. He tiptoed over, and leaned down, moving some of his hair out of his face. He smiled softly. He looked so peaceful like this, no stress on his face, no worry. No hurt. Just him, as he was. It made butterflies dance in Vitya's stomach. He placed a soft kiss to Monty's temple before heading toward the door, and off into the chill, dark night.

Monty

Monty stirred at the sound of a door closing, his brow furrowing automatically at the unexpected sound. He sat up quickly, eyes scanning for Vitya until he realized it had been the front door and that Vitya had left. Hurt and confusion tumbled into his mind. Why was Vitya sneaking out of his own room without saying anything. Monty staggered out of the bed trying to see if Vit had left a note or sent him a text. There was nothing to indicate why he'd left.

Panic shot through Monty, had something happened? Something to do with his illness or his family he'd tried so hard to escape? But it didn't seem logical for Vitya to leave Monty in those scenarios, though Vitya was still incredibly private and independent so it could be a possibility. Monty grabbed his phone and pulled on his pants and jacket as he stumbled around the dorm calling Vitya's phone. "Fuck sake" he swore loudly, when the other boy didn't pick up.

Monty took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind and think clearly where Vitya could be. He pulled a cigarette out of the packet on the beside table and lit it up, heading out of the dorm and in the direction of the bar Vitya frequented. The little store on campus was closed at this time of night and they had plenty of alcohol and smokes and food so this was the only place he could think of that Vitya would go.

It made sense in his own head that Vitya had left, whatever this was between them had scared Monty awake several times so he was thinking it had probably happened to Vitya too, he'd just never caught it until now, or it had never been bad enough he'd had to leave before. Either way Monty was going to find him and bring him home where he was safe.

Once he arrived at the club Monty headed directly to the bar, opening his cellphone up with a picture of Vitya pulling faces wearing a sexy as all fuck outfit to show the bar tender, to ask if he'd seen the boy in question. He had less provocative photos but those seemed even more intimate than a half naked Vitya and that was something he didn't like to share. An enthusiastic nod was given in reply to Monty's question and his eyes followed the mans pointed finger to the edge of the dance floor where he spotted Vitya, not alone but instead with a middle aged business man who was trying to touch Vitya who seemed to be teasing and whispering in his ear. Monty felt like he was going to throw up the way Vitya was moving. Monty remembered those moves. Vitya was trying to pick up a client. Monty was frozen to the spot, unable to move or speak or think.

Vitya

To say the pounding bass of the club, the rhythmic pulses of the speakers, the sweat and vibrant lights were a welcome sight would be an understatement. Vitya thrived here, within these walls. It was so easy to forget where he was, where he came from, and what he was doing, surrounded by strangers. He saw no regulars in the crowd- Good. No regular needed to know he was back on the street. Like a minx, he scanned the crowd, and began his work. He'd gel into the crowd, dancing to the music, and then scan the faces of who was there. Who was watching him. Then, he'd walk over, slowly, and begin his tease. This time, a fish out of water had his eyes locked on Vitya's hips. A business man, suit and tie and slick-back hair, was practically watering at how he moved. Bingo.

Vitya slid over, taking the man's drink front his hand and sipping softly before putting it back. "A bit-eh, overdressed, dah?" Vitya said, laying the accent on heavy and thick. This made the john's eyes light up, and just like that Vitya had his first client of the night. Like a staving beast pounding, the man had his hand on Vitya's hip, and it took every fiber in is being not to recoil. He needed to do this, he needed to survive. He pressed on.

The man's hand kept sliding up into his jacket's sleeve as they talked, nothing of note being said. That didn't stop how badly this guy wanted to see Vitya with less clothes on, point out how pretty his mouth was; this was a blowjob, then. Easy enough. Vitya let him slowly work the jacket off, Vitya leaning up to his ear. "You 'ave cash, dah?" he asked, Vitya's own hand starting to slide on the man's pant-leg. The man was new to this, unceremoniously reaching in his pocket and revealing wads of cash.

Without ceremony, Vitya grabbed the man's tie and walked him towards a back hallway, to the small exit toward the alleyway. The look on his face, as his back was now turned from the client, was one of sad regret. These were the moments when freedom tasted bitter.

Monty

Monty's face was clouded with disgust as he watched the middle aged man look at Vitya, talk to Vitya, touch Vitya. The fact the man was old enough to be Vitya's father, maybe even grandfather, didn't help either. It made his stomach turn in disgust that this man would dare touch someone so precious, so deserving of so much better; better than him, better than Monty too. But for some reason Vitya had allowed Monty to stick around and in some ways to take care of him, just a little.

Monty's fists clenched when the John pulled out a fat handful of cash. All he wanted to do in that moment was beat the guy black and blue. The guy was lucky Monty didn't have his gun really, though he could certainly do just as much damage with his fists or the switchblade stuffed into his boot.

Then Vitya was pulling the man across the room and out of a back door and Monty had to shake himself to unfreeze his limbs and stealthily follow them. He didn't want to watch whatever was about to happen, but he couldn't let Vitya go alone. He didn't want Vitya to get hurt just as much as he didn't want it to happen at all. He would protect Vitya at all costs which he'd been trying to do by paying for as many of the things they needed but it seemed Vitya was desperate for cash for some reason. Why couldn't he just ask Monty for whatever it was?

Eventually Vitya and the John stopped in the alleyway and Monty had to force himself to stay in the shadows as he fought himself. Maybe Vitya was just picking up some drugs or trading information Monty tried to placate himself but it was stupid, he knew what this was, he'd been on the receiving end far too many times and that in it's self made him feel sick. He'd done this, he'd payed this beautiful man for his mouth and his ass. Monty was disgusted at himself.

"Vitya! No!" Monty tried to call out to stop him but it came out barely more than a whisper as his eyes burned.

Vitya

Once out the door, the man in the suit was all aflutter. Vitya had to put his mask on, pretend he was attracted to this man, just for a little while longer. "W-well, do I pay you before-"

"Yes."

"Oh, um, here. You can count it-" Vitya didn't bother counting. He took the money and slowly slid it into his belt-line, making a show of it for the client. He smirked, his free hand pushing the man against the brink wall of the alleyway.

"Relax. You're in good hands," Vitya cooed, inching himself onto his knees, not breaking eye contact with the client.

The next few minutes, Vitya refused to focus too much on. He slid the belt off, pulled the cock out, and did was he was paid to do. The client tried to tug at his hair, but Vitya stopped him; Only Monty gets to do that. The businessman, instead, was stiff as a board, enjoying himself, but so unsure if he should have done this. Vitya knew this type. The man's hips started to buck, so he simply let his jaw hang lax as his mouth was fucked.

With Vitya being little more than a warm hole at this point, he let his mind wander. Despite being nowhere near his size, Vitya let himself pretend who was on the other end. It made the stinging in his head hurt a lot less, imaging Monty was the one using him like this. It was a hollow attempt; this lame john was simply too lax, too boring, each movement making Vitya wish he had never come out here in the first place...

Monty Monty's eyes fell shut despite how hard he tried to stay focused but it was like his mind was protecting him as money exchanged hands. Why was this making him so angry? he had no reason to feel like this. Vitya didn't belong to him, they weren't a couple or whatever the fuck Schuyler would call it. They were just two broken people who stuck together because they understood each other's pain, but Monty's mind didn't seem to be understanding that. His heart was thundering against his ribs and possessive anger was rising when he saw the John try to slide his hands into Vitya's hair.

"NO!" Monty yelled out, his feet propelling him forward and his right arm pulling back ready to punch the John in the jaw and knock him way from Vitya. The John looked terrified of Monty as anyone in their right mind would at the look on his face. His eyes were dark and teeth bared as he leaned in for the hit, sending the man staggering back.

Vitya

To say Vitya was surprised would be an understatement. To say the john was afraid would be, as well. Vitya was frozen when Monty came out of nowhere, catching Vitya in the act. Monty had seen- who knows how much, enough to know that this man's cock was four inches deep in his mouth. It was when The john staggered backwards that Vitya was brought back to reality, standing back up from the dirty concrete. "Hey! What the fuck-"

"What is- who are- I don't want any trouble! Please, please don't tell my wife!" The John whimpered, Vitya rolling his eyes and shoving him further down the alley way.

"He wasn't sent by your wife. Get out of here," Vitya snapped, dropping the heavy accent. The john looked between Monty's furious face and Vitya a few times before Vitya reached out again, grabbed his suit jacket and tossed him towards the end. "I said get the fuck out of here!"

As the man ran away, scared to death, Vitya turned his back to Monty, wiping away the excess spit and drool from his mouth, spitting onto the concrete to get the man's taste out. He laughed, cold and vicious, his leg bouncing quickly as his anxiety started to build. The light above them flickered every few seconds, the alley going from amber yellow to pitch black. The thundering bass from the club could still be heard through the walls.

"You better have a good fucking reason for that, Prescott." he snapped, spitting once more. "I was working, he was nearly done anyway. Now he's probably called the cops or some shit..."

Monty

Monty growled low in his throat when the John didn't move fast enough and every time Vitya touched the man again sent a spark of anger through him even if the touches were to get the man away from them. His anger was uncontrollable and he could barely understand it but all he knew was nobody else should be touching Vitya not ever again.

Words wouldn't come as Monty opened his mouth to try to explain his actions to Vitya. They didn't make any sense to him so how on earth could he begin to describe it to this man who sent every shred of common sense out of the window.

Monty grabbed Vitya by the neck of the flimsy tank he was wearing and pressed him up against the wall of the ally and kissed him hard and messy with sharp bites and his hands gripping Vitya in a way that was sure to leave bruises in the morning but he couldn't care less. He could taste the John on Vitya's tongue but underneath was still the taste Monty had grown so well aquatinted with and he pushed through, his need to claim won out.

Vitya

"Fucking- How did you even find me? You were sleep, I made sure of it. Damn asshole, are you spying on me? You do nothing but fuck and you think you can just come in and-"

Vitya's rant was cut short when Monty took his collar and pinned him to the wall. Vitya's eyes went wide as Monty took his mouth, gripped him so hard it hurt, making his lungs burn with shock. Vitya tried to pull away, tried to move, even punched Monty's shoulder twice, but Monty was so much stronger than him. And tasted so much better, and held him so harshly, so possessively, so... perfectly.

Vitya's resistance melted away, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let Monty ravage him. His body was shivering in pleasure, all of his inner wants this entire night coming true as Monty clenched onto him, kissed him to harshly he was sure his lip was bleeding.

Vitya broke away when he ran out of air, placing his forehead on Monty's shoulder. His hands came up to grip the front of his shirt, his hot breath on Monty's neck. "What the fuck," he whispered, body responding to Monty's touch. "I need to... I need to work, you can't just run in like that..."

Monty

Monty ignored Vitya's rant, rolling his eyes and keeping tight hold as his kissed the smooth cool lips. It felt like coming home, it felt peaceful and calm and sure despite the anger rolling through him. It didn't take much of his strength to keep Vitya against the wall and lips connected even while he tried to fight and a small voice said this was not okay behaviour but the part of his mind that had been learning Vitya knew this was what he needed to do.

Once Vitya relaxed into the kiss Monty loosened his hold and the kiss became more passionate, as if he was trying to tell Vitya all the things he couldn't say out loud. There were so many things he wanted to say but he had no idea how to voice and that terrified him. The old Monty would have stormed away and never spoken to the person again but this was Vitya and this was some new Monty that felt things he didn't yet understand, things that were so different to the ones he'd felt for Schuyler.

Monty let Vitya break out the kiss when he could tell he was relaxed and wouldn't run away. Vitya's head on his shoulder felt nice and instinctively wrapped one of his hands around the back of the redhead and card his fingers soothingly through his hair, the other resting on the small of his back, rubbing soft circles there even though part of him felt sick to be this gentle. His mind and body were so conflicted.

"No. Ya done. No more of that shit." Monty growled. "Ya just got outta the hospital five fuckin' minuets ago. I've seen what them assholes do to ya, beat the shit outta ya, put drugs down ya throat ya have no idea what they are. I ain't lettin' that happen ever again. I got money, ya don't need ta fuckin' do this shit." Monty ground out, his voice low in Vitya's ear. "Ya not workin. Not like this."

Vitya

Vitya's body leaned into Monty's touch. His hands were so warm, and he just... understood what Vitya needed. He didn't want to be here anymore, not while he had... Fuck, whatever this was! He didn't get it, but Monty made him feel sick but amazing at the same time. Near rejoicing, yet close to vomiting. Nervous. But content.

Monty saying no made him tense up, shoving Monty back a step. "You don't get to..." Vitya ran a hand over his face. "I need to make money, I am not going to rely on you like a parasite- Why do you even want to stop me?" He laughed again, this time, his voice breaking. "You benefit from all this, yet you want me to stop?"

Vitya shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. "I get it, having a personal whore is fun and all, but I need to fucking work. I can't be your private cockhole forever. This is how we fucking met, you paying me and me fucking you, so why are you all over me now?"

Vitya leaned himself against the brick wall, crossing his arms. His eyes went from a fiery passion to a glassy, still numbness. He didn't get it. Monty had him running back and forth, between visceral emotions, chasing rage with regret, and meeting in the middle for a flare of happiness, it nearly made him break down. Feeling everything at once. Sour, then sweet. His voice was shaking, shattering, collapsing, as he tried to make sense of his own head, on top of Monty. "I don't give a fuck what happens to me, what they do to me. You shouldn't, either."

Monty

Despite being much stronger than Vitya with his thick arms and thighs and broad chest Monty staggered back when he was shoved by the taller man. These emotions were making him weak and he hated it, yet nothing could surpass the feeling he got when he could let his walls down and still feel safe. None of this made sense, and when the two were alone Monty couldn't bring himself to care but here they were in the open and it was terrifying.

"Fuckin' call it a loan then! Take what ya need then when we get this gallery shit up an' runnin' ya pay me back with fuckin' interest. Fuck I'll even do it Borgata style I ain't ran as a shylock for a minuet but fuck it ya don't wanna take my money we do it this way 'cause like hell ya gonna be doin' this shit anymore!" Monty growled, face close to Vitya's, eyebrows pulled together as he slipped on his Mafiosi mask.

Mont didn't ever have to be this way in front of Vitya. Even from that first time they'd had an easy banter that had allowed Monty to be himself, not having to put his walls up and pretend to still be the perfect Mafia son. It proved just how deep into a mess of feelings he was that he needed to do this.

"We just fuckin' had this conversation ya prick! When the fuck was the last time I paid for ya ass, huh? Try an' tell me ya remember because a few fuckin' days ago ya couldn't an' I can't either! I don't know what any of this shit is but I know for a fact we fuck 'cause we want to an' I'm not sendin ya ass back out here ta be fucked by some old perv who's gonna kill ya!"

Monty's face was screwed up into an expression that wasn't so much terrifying because it looked like he would hurt you but terrifying because it looked like something out of a horror movie. He was so enraged he was no longer handsome or sexy, he was animalistic. "You might not give a fuck about ya’self but someone has to an' that's me!" He yelled, not caring who'd hear him.

Vitya

Vitya groaned, rolling his eyes and locking his jaw. Monty was... off. This was like when he came to his dorm, near breakdown over Schuyler; open, vulnerable, revealing more than just a want or need for his body. Monty was trying to connect here, appeal to Vitya's emotions. It made his heart race, so unsure if he could even try to talk anymore.

He let Monty yell at him, and like a child, he looked down at the floor, kicking at the concrete with the toe of his boot. He licked his lips, his leg bouncing; this was too much. Vitya heard conversations like this, in melodramas and soap operas. His breathing got quicker, his face turning from angry to nervous. Monty was being so vicious and raw with his words, and the fact was Vitya was crumbling hearing them. His skin itched with discomfort. The reality was, the entire time he was out tonight, he felt disgusting. Like he needed a shower, like his chest would implode on himself. Every waking moment, he was hoping it was Monty on the other side of his advances. And now, he's there, saying things that he never thought he'd hear.

Vitya's face lifted up again as Monty's face twisted to an enraged passion. Vitya's jaw dropped a moment, only to close and twist into a sad smile, his own mask grumbling to pieces. A deep-rooted sadness and self-hatred were laced in the smile, body shaking with how much he was trying to keep his emotions in check, not wanting to explode more than he did. "What the fuck...' he tried to say, his voice broken. "Don't, don't..." He placed a hand on Monty's shoulder, gripping his shirt with a desperate hold.

"I-I'm not worth all that. It's fun, it is, I have not had this much fun with someone, at all, since meeting you. I didn't want to be out here, but I need to. Now you're here, and I..." He shook his head, unable to find the courage to go any deeper, express any more emotion. It hurt, it hurt too much. Instead, his face twisted in anger, lashing out. "I don't understand this. I don't understand you! I'm not special, I'm just a whore- I know that's why you kept coming over, I know it's because I look like the other redhead, so why do you care if I'm out here? Aren't I just part of your fantasy?"

Monty

The feel of Vitya’s hand on his shoulder broke Monty’s mafiosi mask when that sad smile twisted Vitya’s handsome face. It caused a pain to shoot through his chest that he couldn’t understand but made him give in to an unexpected need to pull Vitya close and hold him tight to his chest, burrowing into his neck and inhaling the familiar scent he’d become so used to being surrounded by.

“Fuck that I’m not worth it bullshit man. Ya know who’s nit worth shit? Montgomery Prescott, son of a psychopath Don from St Louie who treats his family like shit for any chance to gain even the smallest spec of power. But fuck Montgomery cause Monty can do what the fuck he wants an’ got the hell out just like you for fuck sake we’re the same man came from a place that treated us like shit to get the chance to fuckin’ be more than the clone of our fathers!” He whispered hotly to Vitya, lips moving against the shell of his ear.

A growl of anger left Monty’s chest at the mention of Schuyler and he pulled back from Vitya, running his hands through his hair and turning on the spot beginning to pace. “So fucking what just cause ya got red hair it makes ya some stand in for him? Ya completely fuckin’ different ta him. I don’t want him! He scared the shit outta me but you- it’s...” Monty trailed off not knowing how to express the mess inside his mind.

Vitya

Vitya tried to resist Monty's embrace at first, not wanting to held in that moment, but his hold was too wrong. He sighed, and leaned in, his own hands gripping Monty's shift, not wanting to let go, but giving the other man enough room to pull himself away. It felt so good, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Vitya choked down his own breathing, unable to truly contradict Monty. He was right, they were alike. In that way, there was common ground, a place to start from every time.

Vitya breathed in at Monty's pacing, adrenaline pumping through him. He was successful again, pushing someone's buttons to discomfort. But instead of feeling accomplished, powerful, at doing it again, he felt guilty. He brought up Monty's skeletons in the closet, just to get him to back off, to get an upper hand when he didn't know what else to do. He still didn't, he was drowning and gasping for some way out of this tsunami, and had no other way to react.

"No! No, don't you start that. You better fucking stop that, right now." Vitya snapped, pointing at Monty's chest. "You know damn well this isn't anything like that." He shook his head, starting to walk down the alley, but the pivoted back around. "You were about to say something there. 'He scared the shit out of me but you-'... I what? I'm different? He is your ex, you fell for him, and got burned. It fucked you up, and now you come at me. I know what this was supposed to be. I'm him, I'm 'the other Schuyler' for you. That what this is!"

His fingers were in his hair, gripping, trying his best to not fall apart. "I just... I want to go home. I..." He looked down at himself, taking the money out of his belt-line and waving it in the air. "I got what I wanted. And you got what you wanted, fucked up my night."

Monty

Monty felt numb and cold as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Vitya had ever been like this with him but then he remembered their talk after he’d hurt the Clarington kid. Vitya had lashed out because the kid got under his skin. Was he doing that? Was whatever this was hurting Vitya?

Monty back tracked, trying to swallow down words and feelings but right now that seemed like an impossible task.

“Shut the fuck up I ain’t sayin that we agreed we’d never do that again your the one who made me promise not ta do that ya myself again so I know ya fuckin’ lyin’ if ya don’t give a shit about me protecting myself so here I am tellin’ ya ta protect your self.” Monty grabbed the hand pointing at his chest.

“You ain’t him because us givin’ a shit about each other an fuckin’ doesn’t hurt me, it don’t make me wanna run!” He yelled, trying to explain any of the millions of thoughts spinning through his mind.

“I just want ya safe fuckin’ damnit! What’s fuckin’ wrong with a loan huh?” His eyes were begging and pleading but his voice was hard and determined.

Monty reaches up and pulled Vitya’s hands from his hair where it looked like he was trying to pull out chunks. He held those long soft hands tightly, terrified the man would slip away and with it he’d take Monty’s soul.

Vitya’s voice sounded uncharacteristically stuttered the way he wasn’t quite finishing his sentences. Monty grabbed the money and shoved it into Vitya’s boot where he knew it would be safe and took his hands again.

“Ya wanna go home let’s fuckin’ go.” He said softly, trying to resist kissing him again. He didn’t really know how to comfort people, with Vitya they used their bodies to communicate a lot of the time but in this moment that didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

Vitya

Vitya was shaking with internal rage at himself, his heart racing as they continued this shouting match, this fight, what ever this was. Monty was under his skin, crawled in deep, making him feel joy and happiness, just by being around him, but confined at the same time. He tried to shove it all away, as if he wasn't feeling anything at all, the dominating numbness that had followed him his whole life, but instead he was flaring, fuming with a passion he never had before.

He was scared to death.

"Do not say it like that!" Vitya bit, baring his teeth. "This isn't anything! It's convenient, it's available, it's... anything but caring. I can't care, I fucking can't!" It sounded less like he was yelling at Monty, but more at himself. His internal struggle was letting loose, a indiscriminate spray of his inner demons. His leg was bouncing again, but he didn't fight back as Monty took his hands out of his hair.

"I didn't earn it, that's what! You loaning me money, paying for all of my shit- It is no different than back home! Just a pampered, sniveling prince with no real achievements, no real drive, doing nothing but whimper and die- I need to earn it, and you coming out here and-" Vitya motioned to the money now shoved into his boot. "And ruining the only damn thing I am good at-"

Vitya gripped Monty's hold, a vibrant flame in his eyes. "I fucking hate how good I am at all of this. At being able to read people, at playing The Game, at politicking, manipulating- That guy would have never cheated on his wife if I didn't convince him that he needed more than just watching me dance. And you... You're no different. I'm probably manipulating you, too."

Vitya tore his hands away from Monty, staring at him a moment before turning on his heel, starting his trek out of the alleyway. "Follow me or don't, I don't give a fuck... I'm going home."

Monty

"Then why the fuck did y make me promise not ta fall in love again then huh? Why would ya say that ta someone ya didn't care about, care that they were hurtin'? My brother's the only one who's ever tried ta protect me from ma self 'cause he's the only one who's given a shit!" Monty shouted back, he really had no idea why he was so adamant about this; maybe he wanted proof Vitya cared for him even if it was just friends with benefits, but maybe it was because he wanted Vitya to believe someone cared about him because it seemed like he didn't believe Monty cared.

"Aye! It is different 'cause we're gonna set up the gallery thing and sell ya stuff an' ya payin' me back with interest, an' I'll treat it just like any other mark that owes me, if ya don't pay on time I call in the enforcers. Ya never saw me runnin' for the mob but I can show ya that side an' I can tell ya it ain't pretty." Monty ground out, "This gallery thing is gonna make ya enough ta pay me an' get ya’self set up then ya can do whatever the hell ya want with ya fancy degree an' I sure as shit ain't lettin' ya sit by like a pillow princess doin' fuck all. Ya gonna work this con an' I'm gonna watch ya play these folks outta there money, yeah it's a game talkin' it up but ya art shit is fuckin' good man, ya deserve ta fuckin' sell it 'cause ya did work hard! It just so happens this shit is hard ta break into so ya have ta be a socialite asshole ta get ya’self in on the ground floor." Monty spoke fast, shaking Vitya's shoulders trying to force the words into the taller mans brain in place of all of the negativity about himself he'd clearly been brain washed into for years.

Monty couldn't believe how many words were flying out of his mouth. He usually only spoke so much when he was talking about his research and experiments in science which was his true passion. It was as if he wanted to leave no silence where Vitya could find space to think those demeaning things about himself.

Monty

"If ya had no drive, just wantin' ta curl up an' die why the fuck would ya have left that place with ya cushy life, ya could have just walked away ta some shit hole an' put a gun ta ya head, I'm sure there were plenty shit-holes in Russia where ya couldda froze or starved or been murdered, didn't have ta come all this way for that!" Monty argued, trying to prove there must have been some instinct in Vitya that wanted to live and be more.

"Ya ain't manipulatin' me, I ain't someone who falls for that shit, been through too much to fall for anythin'. I'm the one who does the manipulatin' or ain't ya seen me an' him at all? Ya know why he hates me don't ya?" Monty laughed bitterly, not offering any more information on his relationship with Schuyler, just enough to show he wasn't a push over.

"Don't be an idiot of course I'm followin' I just told ya I was comin' didn't I?" Monty sighed, rolling his eyes and taking quick steps to catch up with Vitya's long strides. He grabbed one of Vitya's hands, letting the pad of his own thumb draw soothing circles on the others hand.

Vitya

"I don't know!" Vitya yelled back. "I don't know why! I don't know why I do anything anymore, my fucking head starts to hurt when I think of you, and I don't know why!" Vitya ground out the last few words with gritted teeth. "I don't know what I think anymore, it's all too jumbled up and messed up and confusing- I can't focus half the time because you're in here-" Vitya points at his temple. "-fucking ruining everything, making a confusing fucking mess, making everything hurt, and I want you out!"

He breathed in, out of breath, as well as realizing what exactly just came out of his mouth. He stopped himself from yelling, all the wind in his sails depleting, his face falling into a gaze of collapsing despair. He steeled himself, opting to pretend nothing came out. He didn't even react beyond, gripping Monty's arms to get him to stop shaking him as he went on and on about this con, this way to get Vitya's art out there, to be successful. He was so done with arguing, his steam out, the fire in him dimmed. All at once, his lack of sleep, his exhaustion of the night, and his terrible attitude collapsed all at once on him. That's what he was running from this time, then. Monty was just in his head, all the time, and Vitya had no idea what to do with him. And, as always, he lashed out. Trying to get rid of him. And, somehow, Monty was still there. Resilient and constant.

Vitya stopped walking when Monty took his hand. His gaze snapped to it, staring, then back to Monty's face. He didn't say anything, his jaw locking shut, holding in the bitchy, rude comment on the tip of his tongue. He was tense, as if he was about to hit Monty to get him to let go, but instead, he turned his gaze back to the side walk. Instead of saying anything, he opted to gripping Monty's hand the slightest bit. Not to say he wanted to hold it; every fiber in his being told him to let go. But more to show that he was listening. He heard everything Monty said, and simply lost all energy to fight it. There was no more fight to have because Monty had been through all of this himself. He'd seen the worst the world has to offer, including Vitya, and yet... he was here.

Vitya let out a shaking breath, one he had been holding, as he started to walk again, this time slowly, casually. Carefully. "...I just want my head to stop talking. That's all."

Monty

"Just fuckin' chill al'ight" Monty responded softly. They both seemed to have run out of steam on the argument. It was like Vitya's mind had jumped from fighting about caring to fighting with his own mind and that had Monty worried. He couldn't bring himself to yell anymore when Vitya was clearly hurting; it was like the taller man had become a shadow of himself as the fight left his features and fuck Monty wanted to hold him so badly, wanted to hold him until the pain was gone.

Monty jerked when Vitya stopped suddenly but allowed Vit to look between their clasped hands and Mont's face. "We'll make it stop, I'll make it stop." He couldn't read the expression on the handsome face but it seemed so incredibly pained and that was enough to let Monty know that right now nothing more needed to be said. Inevitably they would have this conversation again but right now neither of them were able to keep talking.

Instead they would return to Vitya's room hand in hand because neither had the strength to let go and be alone and they would talk with their bodies, wiping away each others memories of the other man Vitya had touched tonight and surround themselves in each other, holding tightly like a life raft that without they would float away into the darkness